Chapter 5 #2
Well, he did have a point, but still, I wanted to sleep, and I wanted him gone. He was making my brain short-circuit, and I didn't like it. I liked my control, and I liked to think that my emotions didn't rule me, but that I ruled them.
"I don't like seeing others in pain," I mumbled, pulling back slightly. "Even if they deserve it."
His hand slipped from my hold as I turned toward the sink, rummaging through the first-aid kit. "You need a better first-aid kit." I looked back at him. "Considering your profession and all the other thingies you might be doing."
"Thingies?" The hot fucker chuckled. "And what thingies do you think I'm involved in?"
"Well." I pressed my hand to his chest, ignoring the scorching heat from his skin against mine, and started pushing him toward the bathtub.
"If you're going around kidnapping people, you're bound to get hurt.
Just look at tonight," I said, guiding him to sit down on the edge of the bathtub.
"Adrenaline can do crazy things to people, and if we were in any other situation, I don't think I would've been able to go this deep with just the fork. "
Realistically, the wound wasn’t all that deep, but I'd read somewhere that hands could bleed more than other parts of the body, and I was pretty sure that’s what’s been happening here.
He flexed his injured hand, wincing, but he didn't say a thing.
Bringing the first aid kit back from the sink, I placed it right next to his hip, and lifted his hand back into mine.
I didn't miss the fact that his hand alone was more than twice the size of mine, or that he could literally kill me right now.
But something told me that he didn't really want to. At least not yet.
"You're my first." I looked up, my eyebrows scrunching. "I mean, the first person I have kidnapped," he corrected himself, and had I looked away, I would've missed the crimson slowly seeping into his cheeks, and the fact that he couldn't meet my eyes.
"That's… good to know." I guess.
My brain went into a completely different place for a second there, and those were the thoughts I shouldn't even be entertaining. Besides, the man in front of me was not someone to scratch an itch with. Not someone to experiment with
He was too... much. Too pretty. Too hot.
Too fucking young. And probably also too much of an alpha to follow my lead.
I'd had that problem before., I wanted to submit to somebody else, yes, but I also wanted control.
I wanted to see someone on their knees, begging.
For their release. For me. And for a second, I could see him, like that, with his crimson cheeks and hooded eyes. Begging.
"Anyway," I said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence as I grabbed a pad and soaked it in antiseptic. "You never answered my question."
"Which was?"
"What are you doing here? In this room. Bathroom. Whatever?"
I lifted the pad, bringing it toward his hand as he said, "This is my roo—Oh, fuck! Cazzo!" He screamed as I pressed the pad to the four puncture marks that had opened up again. I guess I’d done more damage than I’d initially thought.
"I beg your pardon?" I pressed harder. "This is your room?"
"Fuck, yes. Fuuuuuck." He tried pulling his hand away, but I held his wrist with my free hand and dragged the pad over the marks. "Can you just stop?"
"No," I said sweetly, pressing even harder. "Why the fuck am I in your room, Nicolas?"
When he lifted his head, I should've been prepared for the insanity shining in those dark depths. I should've been prepared for what would come out of his mouth, but I wasn't. Not even close. I took another pad, soaked it, and pressed again. This time he didn't yell. Didn't even flinch.
"Because I couldn't bear to have you anywhere else," he muttered. "Because, for whatever fucked-up reason, I couldn't bring myself to put you in another room. Because I needed you here. Where I could see you. Where I would know you were still here."
"Why?" I gritted out. "I am just a prisoner. I don't even know why I'm here. You haven’t told me anything, you haven’t shared anything, so–" I punched his shoulder. "Speak the fuck up or let me go."
A tick jumped in his cheek, and the vein on his forehead bulged up, telling me I was edging way too close to the abyss. But I didn't care. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now.
"Because when I saw you with that fuckface in the restaurant, I wanted to break both his arms and his legs,” he said.
“Because when the shooting started, I knew he’d orchestrated it.
Because I think you know more about him than you're letting on.
Because I'm afraid you're a spy sent by one of the families to kill me. "
"W-What?" I stammered.
"And because–" his free hand wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer. "–I can't stop fucking thinking about you. And every time you look at me, every time you order me around, my cock feels like it's going to explode from words alone.I'm too fucking tired of denying myself what I want."
"And what do you want?" I breathed.
"You."