Chapter 7
Turner
Maybe this won’t be so hard. She appears easy to please, and I like her laugh when it comes naturally. I finish what she doesn’t, and she stands at the same time as me, picking up her own plate.
“I can do the dishes,” she offers, holding out her hand to me. “It’s only fair since you cooked.”
“It’ll go faster if we work together.” I don’t know why I say it. She seems surprised by any nicety I extend to her, and that makes sense. I’m a scary fucking asshole who shot her and knocked her around.
And I feel guilty as fuck for it right now.
“I need to change that,” I gesture to the bandage on her hand. “It got wet in the shower, and I glued it shut. It needs air to heal.”
“Oh, yeah,” Emersyn shakes her head as she slips past me, her arm brushing mine. “I forgot about it. Let’s just change it after dishes.”
My core heats up at the momentary touch, and my mind conjures up an image of her bare beneath me. My hands tremble as I think about reaching out and brushing her skin again, the warmth of her against me. I forgot how good it could feel, and the more she talks—even if it’s awkward and tense—the more I wonder what her full lips would taste like.
“I can wash if you want to dry?” she offers, her voice unsticking me from my mind. “Or vice versa?”
Everything is a question with her.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her as she grabs the pans from the stove and sets them in the sink. I don’t know why I fight the urge to stare at her so much. It’s probably because I haven’t been around someone in so long, right? She’s giving me a glimpse of what it might’ve been like to have someone… if I was just different. If I didn’t end up killing any living person in my vicinity.
I shake it off and grab a towel, drying and putting everything away as she washes them. It doesn’t take long before we’re done, and I’m left in the kitchen there with her, handing her the towel so she can dry her hands. Afterwards, she hangs it on the handle of the oven, and then turns to retreat to the living room, where Gunner is camped out on the couch.
“Wait,” I call after her. “I need to take care of your hand.”
“I can just take the band aid off,” she laughs, her voice light. She’s trying so hard not to be a burden, and I almost feel guilty for what I told her earlier. But it’s the truth. I didn’t want her to be here. I still don’t really want her here, but here she is.
And I want to touch her again.
“I’ll do it.”
Emersyn stills, and I notice the darkened spot on her sweater from the water at the sink. “Okay, fine.” She approaches me, stopping a foot away and extending her injured hand.
Heart pounding in my ears, I take her wrist in my hand and peel back the bandage with the other. She doesn’t wince, and I take in the burned flesh around the closed gash, the sight beckoning me backward. I don’t hear what she says then. All I hear is the click of a magazine and screams lighting up in my ears, exhilaration taking over body. My mouth grows dry, and my gut furls with impending excitement.
I should tell her to run. Run as far and as fast as she can.
I drop her hand as Gunner’s collar jingles, and within seconds, he’s there, pawing at my leg. I blow out a sharp breath, and the desire to play war fades from my mind. Gunner’s whine replaces my mind’s chaos as I stroke the black fur on his head.
“Are you okay?” her voice comes next, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to tell her. No one ever asks me that. Not anymore.
“Yeah, he just needs to go out,” I clear my throat, avoiding her gaze as I lead him toward the back door. The back porch is screened in, and while it’s cold as fuck, duty calls. Gunner has to do his business on artificial turf, but it’s better than nothing. I swing the door open, the sharp winds whipping through the house.
I don’t look back at her as I step outside with my dog. I don’t think she has any idea of the threat looming here. It’s better that she doesn’t. I take a long breath. The way the sharp breeze cuts through my shirt reminds me that I’m still fucking alive, and I close my eyes. Having her here is a good exercise of self-control, and I could use the restraint training. Maybe she is a challenge.
“Do you want a coat?” Emersyn sticks her head out the door, her nose scrunched up. “It’s freezing out here.”
I shake my head. “No.”
Her green eyes tug at me, and grief of my reality threatens to take hold. She’s got this new way of making me not like being a trigger-happy lunatic. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you should go to bed.” My tone is rough, and borderline condescending. I know I sound like an asshole, but she doesn’t realize I thought of killing her a few minutes ago.
“I’m not really tired.”
I glare at her, shaking my head. “I didn’t ask if you were tired.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, and as the winds howl and snow blows, she disappears back inside. The door closes quietly, and I stay outside with Gunner for a few moments longer, letting him finish. He’d been a gift from my brother when I was discharged…
And I wonder, if even from six feet under, he still thinks the damn dog would fix me.
“If he only knew,” I grunt, my eyes casting out toward the place where all my sins are buried beneath the snow. I zone out for a few beats, and then when my fingers grow numb, I head back inside, taking in the room.
Her bags are gone, and my guess is that she lugged them to my room. The only signs of her are the pair of jeans and women’s hiking shoes by the fire. She missed those. My eyes dart down the hallway as I pass it, making my way to the kitchen. I turn the light off, and let the house fall into darkness aside from the fire—but even that is dying down.
Checking the time, it’s late enough I could sleep. However…That’s also when the worst of my urges have always started. It all starts with me going to bed, and then I wake up, lost in my head.
With another warm body in the house, will it trigger me?
I eye the bedroom door and then glance back at Gunner. If I have any shot of not killing her, I need the bottle of pills from the nightstand. I haven’t slept since Emersyn arrived, and things will only get worse if I keep putting it off.
I’ll just have to go get them.
Because you know, of course, being sleep deprived can be a trigger, too. Fuck, in the right setting, anything can set me off, especially when I’m on edge. I take in a deep breath and push forward, heading down the hallway to the bedroom door. I knock twice on the door, and then wait.
Within seconds, it swings open, Emersyn in the threshold. She peers up at me, curiosity in her gaze. The low light dances across her face, mixing with shadows, but I can see make out the light splash of freckles on her face. She’s growing on me. And I know that’s a bad thing. She clears her throat—and I realize I’ve been staring at her like a fucking creep.
“I just need to get something,” I say, eyeing her as she steps to the side. “Then I’ll be upstairs for the rest of the night.” I don’t know why I tell her that, and honestly, I’m starting to get loose lipped with her.
“You really don’t have to sleep on the floor,” she reasons. “I can sleep on the couch or something.”
“I don’t sleep a lot, so it’s fine.” I make my way to the nightstand, ripping it open and pulling out the bottle of sleeping pills. “And with these, I can sleep anywhere.” I mean it as a joke, but it comes out so fucking flat that she just stares at me blankly.
Jeez, I’m bad at this. Gripping the bottle, I shut the drawer, and head back for the door.
“What’s your dog’s name?” she calls after me, and the tone of her voice causes me to pause instead of ignoring her. There’s something desperate underlaying her generic question. I recognize it, and spin around to face her. Her arms are wrapped around herself, and even though I find her presence a nuisance and her questions annoying, there’s something admirable about the way she just doesn’t stop talking.
I wonder if she’d understand I also have unstoppable habits.
“Gunner. He’s ten. Getting up there in age.” I sound so awkward and so pathetic I could bang my head against the wall. I used to know how to talk to people. I used to fucking flirt. Now, I can barely talk and not sound like an imbecile.
“Is he a service dog?”
“Excuse me?” I shoot back at her, offended. “Why the fuck would I need a service dog?” She’s making assumptions.
And it pisses me off.
“I noticed him pawing at you…” Her voice trails off. “I thought maybe… Your expression changed… I?—”
“You, what?” I growl as my hand is suddenly wrapped around her throat, her pulse throbbing against my finger. “You think I’m fucking crazy? Huh? Why don’t you run your mouth a little more?”
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she chokes out, her teeth suddenly chattering.
I catch a hint of her sweet scent and guide her backward until her ass hits the side of the bed. Forcing her to sit down, which damn near puts her face cock level, I growl, “How sorry are you, Emersyn?”
She swallows, biting down on her lip. “Very?”
I tilt my head, studying the confusing expression on her face. She’s scared, that’s for sure, but there’s something else in the mix… intrigue, maybe? Hard to say.
“Who I am, is none of your business,” I bite, tipping her chin back. “Got it?”
“Okay,” she whispers, her eyes boring into mine. Something in my chest rattles at the look there—the unrelenting softness and the way she’s searching my face. It’s like she’s trying to understand me.
And now, I’m the one confused.
“It’s okay, Turner.” Her tone is achingly sweet. “I won’t ask you anymore questions.”
I can’t conjure up a response. Everything is wrong in my head right now. And before I can stop myself, I’m leaning down, brushing my lips across her jaw. My cock grows rock hard as she shivers against my touch. I wait for her to pull away from my lips on my skin, but she only lets out a sharp breath.
What a good, weak girl.
My thoughts grow dark and lustful. She’s so fucking easy, moldable, even. Could I keep her as my own?
“What do you want from me?” Emersyn whispers, her voice barely audible as I pause, my grip loosening.
I rest my head against hers. “I don’t know.”
Emersyn’s breaths are ragged, and it sparks a new kind of excitement in me. My mind races. Is she wet for me? Does she want me? How far can I go before I snap? I thread my fingers through her hair and tip her head back, sliding my other hand from her throat and down her body. I suddenly want to dance with the fucking Devil.
“Here’s your chance, Emersyn,” I taunt her as I graze her breasts. “Tell me no, and I’ll think about it, but…” I catch her gaze. “Part of me thinks you’re as turned on as I am right now.”
Her lips part as I dip lower, reaching the button of her jeans. “St-stop.”
Fuck.
“Why?” I demand, my exhilaration growing ragey in its cage. “Why should I stop? Do you not want this? Because I have a feeling you want it.”
“My boyfriend?—”
“Isn’t your boyfriend right now,” I cut her off, unsnapping the button. “We’re trapped in this house, Em …” You’re either going to end up fucked or dead. Or both. Not sure yet if fucking will be enough to stave off my madness.
“I don’t know… I don’t really know you…”
I let out a frustrated sigh. Fucking fine. I’ll just go to sleep. I drop her back and stalk from the room, grabbing the pills I left sitting on the dresser. I thunder up the stairs, the echo of my footsteps barely audible over the anger humming in my mind.
I slam the lookout door behind me, Gunner barely slipping inside, and then I flip the lock. I open the pill bottle, and shake out a handful, popping them into my mouth and dry swallowing. I set the nearly empty bottle on the desk and retreat to the corner, taking a seat on the carpet and leaning my head back against the wall.
Fuck her for saying no. Fuck me for not killing her. Fuck me for not knowing how to be a normal human being anymore.
Closing my eyes, I let the chill sink in, the draft providing me with the cold shoulder I desire right now. Gunner sits beside me as the heaviness takes hold, drawing me into an unconscious stupor that numbs my brain and body.
It’s the only time I ever get any peace.
I just hope it lasts a while.