Chapter 8
Myles
She's so still when she sleeps. Curled up on the tiny cot bed like some wounded animal, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them.
As if that would keep her safe. Like we aren't all monsters here.
Pathetic.
She’s been here a week now and still hasn’t said a word to me. But it doesn't matter. None of that matters.
Because, fuck, she’s beautiful. Even like this. Especially like this.
Her tangled blonde hair looks so soft, her cheeks and cute barbie nose, dusted with freckles like kisses. And those full lips—goddamn—the kind you want to bite, just to hear her scream.
Her smooth skin glistens in the moonlight and I can see her figure perfectly since Zane’s blanket-of-betrayal has slipped off the bed.
The white singlet clings to the curves of her body, threadbare enough that I can make out her breasts as they rise and fall with each breath. The khaki shorts hug her hips just right, drawing my eyes to the dip of her waist and the sweep of her thighs.
She looks like something made to be held. My cock is hard as a rock simply from watching her sleep.
Curling my fists around the bars, I watch her, soaking in her presence as if she's some kind of drug. Like if I stare hard enough, I’ll be satisfied. But I’ll never have enough of her.
I’ve never felt so sure of something in my life. I don't give a damn what the boys think. She's here and she's mine. She just won’t admit it yet.
Unable to resist any longer, I reach through the bars.
Just one touch.
My fingers gently brush her thigh. So warm and smooth.
She flinches like I branded her, eyes snapping open. And for a second, I think maybe she feels it too. Maybe she was dreaming of this.
But her eyes are wild as she scurries backward so fast she nearly falls off the cot. She scrambles until her back hits the wall, chest heaving.
That look—as if I'm something to be feared—cuts through me sharper than a blade.
Narrowing my eyes, I pull my hand back, slow and disdainful.
I thought we were past this fear. All the progress we made this week. It’s a stinging slap across the face.
She needs me. I know she does. But she's looking at me like I'm nothing but danger.
My jaw clenches. Rage twisting in my chest.
Before I can even think about it, I'm moving.
The cell door slams open with a crack that echoes through the building. The sound bounces off the concrete walls, loud and final, my boots pounding like war drums as I storm inside.
She freezes, eyes wide, shoulders pressed tight to the wall as if she's trying to squeeze between the cracks.
“Don't run from me,” I growl, shaking with something feral. “Don't flinch from me.”
She just stares, trembling, like she's waiting for shrapnel from my explosion to hit her.
Every muscle in my body pulls tight.
I can feel it. How close I am to doing something I can't take back. Feel it in my blood. In the way she looks at me like I'm the monster under her bed. Not the man who’s offering her a new life.
Why can’t she see? I can give her everything.
My heart hammers against my ribs, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles burn. Every part of me screams to make her see me. Make her understand.
I can't stand that look on her face right now. I'm losing control.
Turning on a dime, I slam my fist into the concrete wall.
“Fuck!”
Pain flares in my knuckles, but it doesn't fix the ache in my chest. Nothing feels right now. Not even her.
Especially not her. Not with that look in her eyes.
Lashing out, my hands fly to either side of her head, knitting my fingers into her hair so tight she squeals.
Wincing, her body tenses, shoulders lifting. She trembles like I'm the thing that chases her in her nightmares.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I roar, voice breaking. “I saved you! You had nothing. Just another scavenger waiting to be torn apart out there. And I fucking saved you.”
Her expression changes, staring at me with those huge eyes filling with tears—blue and deep as the goddamn ocean. They twist something in me every time she looks at me like that. As if I'm exactly what she needs, but she just doesn’t know how to say it.
“I didn't have to,” I sneer. “Phoenix didn't want you. Zane didn’t care. But I—”
Releasing her hair before I hurt her, I grip her by the arm, yank her off the bed as she yelps and slam her against the concrete wall.
“I can take care of you,” my voice cracks with desperation. “I can give you everything you need.”
I’ve tried so hard to stay away and give her time. But I press into her harder, clinging to the heat of her body and burying my head into the crook of her neck, inhaling that smell again.
The sweet scent of her hair fills my lungs, and I groan. Shampoo? Where has this little doe come from, smelling like that?
My dick throbs, straining against my zipper as I fight the urge not to bend her over and claim her right here and now. My hips instinctively thrust against her warm body, begging to find purchase between her legs.
“Why can’t you see that? Let me take care of you,” I mutter, yanking the strap off her shoulder to expose her glowing skin.
“I’ll be all you need.”
Watching my own tattooed fingers trail over her flawless pale skin, I trace down her collarbone, following the curve of her breast.
But she flinches and my eyes flash back to hers. Silent tears stream down her face and those pretty eyes plead with me as she shakes her head faintly.
The second rejection stabs into me, releasing a poison into my veins.
My lips curl back, bitterness bursting on my tongue. “Be grateful!” I roar, fisting her top and ripping it off her body in one go.
Her hands immediately fly up to hide her pretty pink nipples, but her hands barely cover the generous swell of her breasts.
Snatching her wrists, I yank her hands away so I can see her properly.
She doesn’t get to hide from me.
A sob racks her body, the sound breaking through my blind rage.
I look up at her face again, and all I see is terror in her contorted face.
This isn’t how I wanted it to go. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to be grateful. Swooning over her saviour.
I back away, shellshocked, as she hunches over, trying to hide her body again. Tears stream down her face as she cries as if I broke her heart.
“Why did you make me do that?” My voice cracks with panic and regret as I back out of the cell. “Why did you make me do that?” I repeat in anguish.
Grabbing the cell door, I slam it shut and lock it, retreating as fast as I can.