43. Clara
CLARA
THOUSAND EYES
I’m your Samson.
The urge to recoil becomes too powerful to fight when his forehead touches mine. I rear back, my vision sharpened with shock. My Samson? My Samson ? He’s delusional. He has to be. There’s no other explanation.
And I know the absolute last thing I should do is provoke him, but God help me—I can’t help the words that come out of my mouth.
“You’re not my anything !”
His head snaps up, and the madness I see in his gaze terrifies me more than anything. The unhinged expression on his face screams at me, telling me I made a mistake.
The blow comes so fast I don’t see it coming. White-hot pain radiates from my cheek to my temple as his hand connects with devastating force, whipping my head to the side. My legs give out instantly, and I crumple to the dirt floor.
I barely have time to register what just happened when I’m forced onto my back. Samson straddles me, his legs bracketing mine as his hands wrap around my throat. I try to breathe, but the air won’t get past his grip. My vision swims with black spots, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.