I shove at his chest and he takes one stumbling step back before he grabs me. Grabs me and tries to pull me into him. “No. It wasn’t us, Sophia. I swear it wasn’t us.”
“Then who?!” I screech and shove at him again.
“I don’t know yet,” he says, sounding almost sad as he tugs me back.
Still not believing him, I lash out, slapping him across the face.
The sound of my hand connecting with his cheek resonates through the bedroom as a loud crack.
And his head whips back either from surprise or the force I put behind it.
Panting with emotion, I glare at him as he slowly turns his face back to look at me. I see the deadly glint in his eyes, but it doesn’t affect me.
I’m too worked up to be afraid now.
Not satisfied with the flush of red spreading across his cheek and wanting to hurt him more, wanting to hurt him as much as I hurt, I raise my stinging hand, ready to slap him again.
“But when I do, I’m going to make them fucking pay,” he growls and grabs my hand out of the air in mid-slap, tugging me to him.
Crushing me in a hug, his arms lock tight around me, so tight I can barely move.
I try to squirm free, but the more I fight, the more his hold tightens around me.
“They’ll pay. Their family and future generations will pay,” he grunts while keeping me caged in his arms.
Unable to break free, no matter hard I try, I give up and collapse against him.
Crushed by both the constriction and his threat.
“Hell will feel like a fucking vacation when I’m done with them,” he declares so vehemently, goosebumps break out across my flesh.
His breath puffs against the top of my head, followed by a tender brush of his lips. “I promise, love, I won’t let them get away with this. I’ll get them all, even if it kills me.”
His promise cuts right through to my soul, completely shattering me and challenging everything I’ve ever believed in.
To say this wasn’t what I envisioned going down when I decided to confront him about my father’s death would be an understatement.
I expected him to deny it, of course. Perhaps even try to slyly convince me there wasn’t any way he could have been involved.
Not crush me in a hug and promise retribution.
It feels like my world has suddenly been turned upside down.
I’m so… disturbed, so damn unnerved by his promise and the way things have turned, I tip my head back and peer up at him.
There’s this strange light in his eyes. An almost diabolical light, like he’s thinking about what he’s planning to do and how much he’s going to enjoy it.
“Why?”
Why would he do that?
What does he get out of it?
It’s not like we’re family or even friends.
His jaw tightens and he grits his teeth, making the expression on his face even more frightening. “Because they hurt you.”
Breath quickening, his answer causes both fear and excitement to flood through me. A mix of emotions I’ve never felt before I met him, but one I keep experiencing whenever I’m in his presence.
I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me. Finding any joy in that…
Maybe he’s not the only one who’s sick.
Shaking my head, I try to keep my mind clear so I can stay focused on the issue. “So what? Why do you care?”
His eyes grow darker, becoming downright sinister.
“Because you’re mine,” he declares, the word ringing in my ears.
Then he adds, his voice almost cracking, “My baby.”
Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath. “Nobody hurts you. Nobody fucks with you and gets away with it on my watch.”
“What?” I exhale in more confused and excited horror. My heart so conflicted it doesn’t know if it wants to race or stop beating completely.
Did I hear that right?
Reaching up, he grabs my face again and rubs his thumb tenderly along my bottom lip, his expression unchanging. “You’re mine and I’ll always protect you.”
My mind whirls, trying to process all this new information. Trying to process how I feel about it.
I’m his? Like an object he’s owns or possesses?
He’s going to protect me?
Since when?
Then he kisses me.
Kisses me like a man who’s both proving a point and utterly desperate.
When he finally pulls away from me, tearing his lips from mine like it pains him to do so, I can only gape at him.
I knew he was crazy…
But this…
This.
Oh my god, what am I going to do about this?
What am I going to do about the tiny dark part of me that’s soaring at his declarations? Practically reveling in them?
“You’re mine, Sophia,” he repeats like now that he’s said it he can’t stop saying it. Then he tenderly brushes a curl out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. “You’ve been mine since the night we met, and I’ll always take care of you.”
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what the fuck just happened.
How did me confronting him about my father’s death turn into him giving me a declaration of ownership?
It’s like I’ve suddenly slipped into an alternate reality or a fucked-up dimension.
The tightness of his arm still wrapped around me though is proof I’m still right here.
It’s truly happening.
It’s real.
James stares at me as if he expects me to contradict him. His expression and the set of his shoulders prepared for it.
I try to work up the will, the energy to fight him on this. To tell him no way, no how, I’m his anything.
But I just don’t have the energy for it. I don’t have the energy to argue with him over this. I don’t have the energy to deal with this, on top of all the other shit that’s already overflowing off my plate.
And god only knows what else he might admit if I address it.
When I only stare up at him wearily, his expression gradually softens.
“Sophia?” he asks, staring into my eyes, still expecting something from me.
Gratitude? A fight?
Simple acknowledgement?
I don’t know what he expects.
All I know is that, “I’m tired.”
So fucking tired of it all.
I need to get off this ride before it crashes and burns with me stuck inside it.
His next words are said carefully, as if he’s worried I might suddenly break and fall to pieces. “Do you want to go bed?”
I press my lips together, swallow, and nod my head.
I’m not only tired, I’m disturbed as fuck, and wish to heaven I never asked the questions I asked. I’m only more confused now and fucked up in the head.
And the longer I stand here in his arms, the harder it is to resist the temptation to accept and believe that I truly am his.
His craziness must be contagious.
As if he can’t stop himself, James brushes another kiss against my hair and tucks another curl behind my ear. “Let’s go to bed then.”
Numbly, I nod my head again.
I need space. I need time to think about all of this.
I need to figure out a fucking escape plan.
Reaching around me, James yanks the covers back then nudges me to get in, finally releasing his hold on me.