9
Lia
In another lifetime, I would have rebelled at Logan’s cruel treatment, but it’s not rebellion now that has me inching tentatively toward the door.
Aurora is asleep, curled up in a little ball on the bed, but I’ve spent the last hour tossing and turning, a pressing need keeping me awake.
I really need to fucking pee.
The last thing I want to do is wake her, because she needs to sleep. But it’s torture to leave her side to head toward the door that Logan warned me against walking through.
I’m just going to have to risk it. I’m not going to piss myself, am I?
Slowly turning the doorknob, I take a step out, and nearly fall over the shape lying on the floor just inches away from my door.
Oops.
A moment later, the form has sprung up, and Logan’s got me pinned against the wall, his hand closed around my wrists.
“The fuck are you doing, Lia?” he growls.
I do my best to swallow. “I just… I just need to go to the bathroom, Logan.”
I let out a breath of relief as I feel him slightly relax his hold. “Fine,” he mutters. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s… go?”
Before I can ask what that means, he opens the door that opens out into the hallway. Right. A shared bathroom. I should have known.
I barely have time to notice that the bed in this room hasn’t been touched, and to wonder why the hell Logan was lying on the floor beside my door instead of sleeping in it like a sane person, before he’s pulling me out into the hallway and leading me to the bathroom.
“You know, I can walk by myself,” I huff out.
“Shut up.”
I bite my tongue to keep from lashing out at him, because that would not be a smart thing to do right now, but I’m definitely thankful when we reach the grimy bathroom door.
I really need to get away from him, at least for a few moments, because it feels like I’m going to explode from the intensity of everything he makes me feel.
But instead of staying at the door, he… walks in with me.
“What the hell, Logan? I need to pee!”
“Go ahead.”
“Not with you in the room!” Before I have time to realize what I’m doing, I’m batting him away, as though he’s the cute boy who used to take my abuse without reacting, instead of the murderous man in front of me now.
Though I guess he’s never really been okay with me getting physical with him.
I take a step back, flinching, expecting him to do his worst. But instead, he leans against the wall, folding his arms and regarding me with something like… a smirk.
“Go on, Lia.”
“Not with you looking,” I insist, swallowing my nerves.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
For the first time since he hunted me down on the side of the road, he’s looking at me with something other than pure rage. It’s almost as though he’s enjoying my embarrassment.
“You’re an asshole,” I grumble, starting to very slowly and reluctantly unbutton my jeans. “Aren’t you at least going to look away? Pervert!”
Again, probably not the best idea to insult the guy who looks like he’d have no qualms about snapping my neck, no matter what he said about his intentions before.
But he doesn’t look angry. If anything, his smirk deepens. “I’m used to your insults, Lia. They don’t hurt me anymore. Go ahead and pee, and if you keep running your tongue at me, I’ll take you over my knee and punish you.”
Uh, okay.
His threat does something to me. But its effect is dampened by the other thing he said. They don’t hurt me anymore.
That means they did, once. My insults hurt him. I hurt him.
Of course, I assumed they did, but it feels pretty unbearable to hear him say it.
“You’re crying.”
“What?”
“You’re crying,” repeats Logan. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.” I turn my head, sniffing loudly. “I have a cold.”
“Uh huh. Sure.” I’m not looking at him anymore, but I can just hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s fine, Lia. I like seeing you cry. It makes me happy to know you’re suffering.”
Asshole.
“Now pee,” he says, his voice hard again. “I don’t have all fucking night. I’d like to get some sleep. We’re gonna be traveling all day tomorrow.”
We are?
“Where are we going?”
“I told you that already. To your husband. Now, pee.”
That must mean Carmelo is already in Idaho. I’d rather be dead than join him there. But I guess I will be soon, anyway.
I grit my teeth.
“I am not peeing in front of you.”
“Then I guess you’re just gonna have to die from a burst bladder. C’mon.”
He crosses the room toward me, his arm lifted to latch onto me again. I take a step back, bumping into the toilet.
“Okay, okay, fine,” I say hastily. “I’ll pee.”
“Fucking finally,” he grunts, then leans back, his temporary annoyance giving way to undisguised pleasure. “Go on. I’ll be enjoying the show.”
Asshole. Asshole. Asshole.
“Pretty sure Carmelo will kill you if he learns you got an eyeful of his wife,” I mutter, as I slowly peel down my jeans.
“Pretty sure I don’t care.”
My face is flaming, and I just know that between the recent crying and the embarrassment, I’m a blotchy mess right now, but I lower myself onto the toilet seat anyway.
He doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes drift down to take in my naked lower body as I sit.
Moments later, the embarrassingly loud sound of my pee tinkling down has his face splitting into a wide grin.
“You really did need to pee.”
“Jerk.”
I’m not sure how I’ve gone from being terrified of him to insulting him in such a short lapse of time.
Maybe it was him telling me he wasn’t going to kill me.
Or maybe it’s the way his anger has given way, temporarily at least, to that mocking air that reminds me of the class clown from my childhood.
Though there’s something harsh about it now. Almost like it’s an act, or something.
“Finished?” he questions.
“Yeah,” I mutter, standing up again and getting ready to pull up my jeans.
“Leave those down,” he orders, his voice suddenly strained. “Leave those down, Lia. Turn around.”
My heartbeat picks up, my stomach clenching again, though I can’t tell if it’s from nerves or… something else.
“What the fuck, Logan?”
“Turn around.”
Something in his voice makes me realize it would be a bad idea to disobey. So I keep my jeans at my ankles, my face hot as I slowly face away from him.
“Hands on the wall.”
Uhm… okay.
I stifle a gasp as I sense him move off the opposite wall and come near me. The warmth from his body burns my skin, and I nearly jump when his hand lands on my back, even though his touch is so light I can barely feel it.
I whimper as he drags the pads of his fingers down, lower and lower, to the place where my back meets my ass. He doesn’t stop there, sliding his palm over the swell of my bottom, before cupping my left cheek.
“Who do you belong to, Lia?” he growls in my ear.
I swallow an audible squeak.
“Lia,” he says, his voice lower and something that I could almost imagine is neediness softening its menace. “Who do you belong to?”
His hand slides toward my inner thigh, and I inhale sharply, squeezing my legs together so he doesn’t see the wetness gathering there.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
He darts his hand back up, grabs the flesh from my right ass cheek, and pinches hard.
Ow!
“Well, Lia?”
I’m on my tiptoes now, trying to get relief from the burn of his fingers as they torture my flesh. And then his other hand comes up and wraps itself around my neck, squeezing hard enough that I can’t breathe.
Fuck you! Fuck you!
I’m seething, angry, terrified, confused. He’s hurting me, he’s humiliating me, and yet a strange, incomprehensible pressure is building in my lower stomach.
But mostly, I’m just so fucking pissed.
I’ve grown lightheaded by the time he loosens his hold slightly, whispering in my ear, “Who owns you, Lia?”
No one!
God, I hate him so much. I fucking despise him.
The second he lets go of me, I croak out, “My husband.”
I don’t know why I say it. If there’s anyone in this messed-up world that I never want to belong to, it’s Carmelo Moretti.
But I got the sudden feeling that those words would anger Logan.
And after he’s just forced me to pee, then pinched my ass and squeezed my neck, the only thing I want to do is make him furious.
So much for self-preservation.
But he doesn’t seem angry. Or maybe he is, but his features grow impassive as he steps back.
“That’s right,” he says, his voice neutral. “Your husband. Pull your jeans up, Lia. I’m gonna take you back to your room.”
Somehow his cold, detached voice makes me far more terrified than any show of anger could.
Shaking so hard it feels like I’m going to collapse, I fumble with my clothing until I’m dressed. He grips my arm again, and when I glance up at him, not even his eyes tell me a thing.
I let him guide me back to my room, not trying to resist. As the door clicks shut behind me, I slide onto the old musty mattress, and curl my body protectively around Aurora’s.
I’m struggling with a turmoil of emotion that I can’t even begin to decipher.
It doesn’t seem possible that I’ll ever fall asleep, and yet, moments later, I feel myself drowsing off.
The next thing I know, it’s morning.