CHAPTER SIX #4
I keep watching him for a few seconds after that.
Probably to let everything sink in. By that I mean the fact he broke someone’s face for talking smack about me.
First, I can’t believe Ethan did that. I thought we were friends.
Sort of. And second, good. I’m glad he broke that asshole’s face for me.
And that’s exactly why I need to shut my thoughts down.
I’m still acting like everything is normal.
Like he’s my Phantom who watches me and keeps me safe.
Instead of being a hunter who kidnapped me and is my family’s biggest enemy.
Didn’t he say he saved me from all those men so he could keep me for himself?
This is what the Ethan thing was too. I’m his favorite pet, his favorite prey, that he doesn’t want anyone else to toy with except himself.
So I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head in a very stern way: “Tell me your favorite color.”
But the asshole that he is, he doesn’t even let his plump mouth twitch.
“You like to read, don’t you,” I keep going. “Tell me your favorite book.”
Of course, he doesn’t.
I hop down from the dresser, my feet landing with a loud thud. “Do you have a tattoo?”
I don’t expect him to answer, but somehow his not answering tells me he does.
“Where?” I ask, walking toward him.
Nothing.
“Did you do it yourself?”
He watches me saunter over, his expression blank, calm.
“Can I see it?” I ask next, only a few steps away from him.
He glances down at my boots before glancing up, probably because he expects me to stop.
Both my steps and my questions. But I don’t.
I keep going with both. “How old are you? How do you take your coffee? Do you have a favorite food? Do you like summer or winter? Tell me a song you can listen to on repeat. Is there a song you like enough to listen to on repeat?”
I only stop when I’m this close to him. So close that our boots are knocking against each other and I have to crane my neck up so high, I’m looking at the sky.
I’m looking at his stunningly beautiful face and that wicked scar that sends a million emotions swirling through my head every time I see it from this close.
Then, looking into his eyes, “Are you at least going to tell me your name”—a pause—“Radisson?”
If he’s shocked that I already know it, he doesn’t let me see it.
He shows no reaction to any of my questions.
I know he gets what I’m doing. I know he gets I’m angry.
Angry at all the games he’s played for months and the ones he’s still playing, the way he’s still toying with me.
Treating me like he’s still hunting me, stalking me, when for all intents and purposes, I’m already captured.
I’ve already agreed to do what the Graysons want me to do.
And if, in fact, there’s more to this fucked-up story, if there’s something he’s not telling me, then I need to know.
Which is why I spent the last hour overcoming my ridiculous fear and pumping Haven for information, though in a way that she doesn’t suspect anything.
His name is Radisson and he’s their cousin—their aunt’s son—and he grew up with them.
He also happens to be the foreman of Rawhide and Arsen’s best friend.
Which is probably why Arsen trusted him not only to keep an eye on the Turner Princess but also to kidnap her and bring her to the ranch.
And like the loyal best friend he is, he did.
“You’re not a Grayson,” I tell him like he doesn’t know. “You’re a King. Radisson King. That’s what your name is, isn’t it?”
At last, a muscle clearly moves in his jaw.
“You weren’t born to hate me.”
“No.”
My heart pounds in my chest. “But you still do.”
He doesn’t have to say anything at this point to confirm it.
“Out of what, loyalty?” I ask, even though I shouldn’t care.
His eyes go back and forth between mine. “You understand loyalty.”
I breathe out sharply.
“Don’t you?” he goes on. He moves his eyes over my face, studying me as he murmurs, “Ain’t that why you did what you did?
Last night. Walked into that piece-of-shit bar, hooked the bait, set the trap.
Went to all that trouble just so you could find your best friend.
Didn’t work out in the end like you thought, but you gave it your best shot. That’s loyalty, ain’t it?”
“It is, yes,” I agree, tilting my head to the side.
“But if we’re handing out trophies for who’s the most loyal, I think it has to be you.
I mean, you went above and beyond for your friend, didn’t you?
You not only kidnapped me for his revenge plan, but you kept an eye on me for months.
You watched me flirting with guys, going on dates, buying myself coffee and pretty dresses and a million other boring, airhead, and princess-y things.
All so you could support your friend in his vendetta.
Now that is what loyalty is. I think you should start writing your speech, Phantom, because this is the one award no one can take away from you. Unless…”
There’s no more space to cover between us, but I still inch closer to him.
I go so far as to put my hands on his biceps.
My breaths stutter at the feel of his hard muscles.
Hard and hot. Something I should’ve known, given he’s manhandled me enough times today, but I was either drugged at the time or probably freaking out of my mind.
I’m still freaking out, but it’s more because of how strong he feels, how good he feels to my fingers.
I ignore all that, though, and continue, “Unless there was another reason.”
He glances down at where I’m touching him, and even though I know I should stay the course and not get distracted, I can’t help but follow his gaze.
I have to bite my lip at the picture we present.
My hand, small and pale, looks even smaller and paler against the backdrop of his dark shirt and big muscles.
It makes my belly clench, too, as I whisper, “Did you like it?” He lifts his eyes and I grip his arms tightly. “Watching me.”
He stares into my eyes and I notice the green going darker.
Maybe it’s yet another ploy on his part, but my heart still races as if he already knows what I’m referring to.
I wasn’t going to talk about it, wasn’t going to even think about it, but somehow, I am.
Somehow, I’m the one bringing it up because I want to shake him.
Make him react, provoke him. Get to him like he gets to me.
“I know you were just doing your best friend a favor, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the show,” I say and let myself smirk a little.
“And I did put on a show for you, didn’t I?
Back when you were just my Phantom. A man in a mask who watched me.
Who saved me in that dark alley one night, who kept me safe from all the bad men out there.
” I slide my hands up his strong biceps then, tracing the hilly terrain of his muscles, making my way up to his powerful shoulders.
“God, I’d get so wet for you, thinking about you standing there, watching me through the window.
I’d think about your eyes, all green and mesmerizing. Your hands, so big and strong…”
I’m up to his collar now, and before I can stop myself, I slide my fingers up to his thick neck, tracing his hot skin, a pulsing vein, his prickly stubble.
Despite myself, I have to squeeze my thighs before I’m able to continue.
“I’d think about how it’d feel if you put them on me, in me.
I bet it would take some work, fitting it in.
I bet you’d stretch me out because I’m so small, and God, you’re so big.
And the moment I’d start thinking about how much you could overpower me, I’d come.
I’d come so hard, Radisson. I’d make a mess of my thighs, my sheets.
I’d moan so loud. I didn’t care if someone heard me.
All I cared about was you. I wanted you to hear me. I wanted…”
I don’t know what I was going to say, but I don’t get a chance to figure it out because it all happens at once.
I realize my fingers had reached the edge of his hard jaw, the left side, and I was about to touch his scar.
But before I could do that, he strikes. He grabs my wrists, both of them, taking my hands off his neck, his body, even.
He twists my arms behind my back, holding them captive with his.
And he does it so hard—harder than the rope he bound me with this morning—that I gasp.
Both from the pain and the way my small body crashes into his hard one.
Staring down at me, his eyes the only bright thing on his shadowed face, he growls, “This what you wanted? My hands on you.”
“I—”