“Oh.” My breathing slowly returns to normal, but the stab of pain doesn’t subside. I’m glad he found a loving owner, but I wish I could’ve said goodbye. “Do you know who adopted him?”
“No clue. Heard about it from Dr. Stephanie when I went to feed him this morning.” He playfully tugs on my cheek. “Now, spill the actual reason you’ve been gone. And don’t give me the ‘busy with school’ bullshit. Did you go on a beauty retreat without taking me? I’m gonna need deets on where you do your facials, because, sweet Jesus, you don’t only look like a doll, but your skin also feels like a doll’s.”
I smile. “Shh, don’t tell anyone about the beauty retreat. It’ll be our little secret.”
“I knew it. This little bitch, I swear.” He teasingly pinches my cheek more. “Take me with you next time?”
“Can you let go of me first?” I laugh.
“Not until you promise. Just the two of us so none of the others find out the secret.”
One moment, I’m laughing at Harry’s antics, the next, I’m pulled back by a savage grip on my waist.
I slam against a hard chest as an all-encompassing presence looms over me.
Creighton’s fingers dig into the fabric of my dress at the waist as if he’s intending to burn it and engrave his fingerprints on my skin.
My head whips up to get a glimpse of his face. There’s no trail of blood now, no soot or impurities over his criminally attractive features.
There’s darkness, though, the slow, simmering type that could and would transform into a hurricane.
Despite my resolution to stay away, malevolent butterflies erupt in my stomach with the intention of devouring me from the inside out.
It’s unfair that he’s in his usual jeans and hoodie but still looks straight out of a fashion show. It’s even more unfair that he has the superpower of snatching my attention without even trying.
“She said to let her go.” His deep voice is laced with a timbre of anger and I shiver, even though it’s not directed at me.
Harry, who is forced to release me, seems oblivious to the tension and merely gawks at him. “Oh my, hi there, handsome. Didn’t know you actually talked. And we missed you this whole week! Wait a minute, do you only come for Anni?”
My lips part. Don’t tell me Creighton hasn’t been at the shelter when I wasn’t around?
Instead of answering him, Creighton basically drags me with him to the small nook I use as an office, leaving Harry behind.
“Nice talking to you!” he shouts behind us. “And don’t forget about our deal, Anni, or I’ll sacrifice you to Jesus and start calling you Nika.”
“Don’t you dare!” I glare at him over my shoulder.
He just makes a face, grins, then forms a hole with his fingers and slides the index finger of his other hand in and out of it in a suggestive way.
My cheeks heat as Creighton pushes me into the room and slams the door shut behind us.
All the embarrassment is forgotten when his chest crashes against mine.
My feet falter backward until I hit the wall. I open my mouth to speak, but even that is put to a halt when he grabs my hands and throws them above my head against the wall.
The deep gravel of his voice reverberates on my skin when he whispers too close to my face, “I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’ll answer them, Annika. Lie to me, and you’ll be punished. Are we clear?”
13
ANNIKA
The longer I stare into Creighton’s eyes, the more my breathing shatters and splinters into pieces.
Harsh eyes.
Completely-devoid-of-emotions eyes.
I’ve always seen him as detached, with ice in his veins instead of blood, but this is the first time I’ve witnessed it firsthand.
And that iciness? It’s currently seeping underneath my skin and hooking against my darkest part.
“Are we fucking clear, Annika?” The lethal sound of his voice hits my skin like a whip.
I can’t help the slight jump in my shoulders or the dryness in my throat, despite my attempts to stand strong.
Swallowing, I nod slowly.
“You have a voice. Use it.”
Tchaikovsky.
Come have a word with this guy because he has no business sounding so infuriatingly hot when he’s bossy and controlling.
“Yeah,” I murmur and attempt to smile. “Can you let me go now?”
“Quit that fucking habit of smiling when you’re uncomfortable. You’re not a bloody doll.”
How…the hell does he know that?
I’ve perfected my fake smile so well that no one can read through it, so why can he?
The act has become so subconscious that I don’t pay it any attention anymore.
So why does he?
A cloud of disapproval cloaks around him like a second skin as he presses closer, the length of his body crushing against mine. “Tell me, Annika. Why haven’t you answered any of my calls or texts?”
My chest saturates with a carnal urge that even I can’t put a name to, and I have to clear my throat to be able to speak. “You know, it was crazy after the fire, and Jeremy kind of confiscated my freedom.”
“He didn’t confiscate your phone, which you used to talk to everyone else but me just fine.”
Shit.
Considering his nature, I was so sure that he wouldn’t focus on that detail, so I didn’t pay attention to that angle.
Apparently, that was a mistake.
His fingers dig into the soft flesh of my wrists and the rich timbre of his voice lowers further. “Answer me.”
“Feels bad to be left on Read, doesn’t it?” I deflect, grabbing onto my composure with bloodied fingers.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“What? I didn’t realize you were the only one with Read privileges. I thought I’d try and see how it feels, and it’s safe to say, your reaction kind of sucks. Might keep it up if I’m in the mood. Also, can you speak without touching me?”
He grips me tighter, not only disregarding my last request, but also doing the exact opposite. I’m assaulted by his otherworldly presence, striking warmth, and addictive scent all while trying to remain unaffected.
Chances of actually succeeding? In the negative.
“What are you playing now, little purple?”
My heart and mind war for an appropriate reaction to his words. A part of me wants to pull out of this charade, save everyone the trouble and bury myself in my bubble.
But the other part, the part that falters at the little purple nickname, claws and bangs, demanding to be set free.
“Can you remove the little before purple?”
“You are little.” His fingers flex on my flesh and the air shimmers with his assertive intensity.
“I’m going to be eighteen soon, you know.”
“It’s not about your age.”
“Then…what is it about?”
His eyes shift, growing hot as he rakes them over my face and heaving chest. “You’re so small and breakable that I’m always craving to bite, bruise, mark, and pound the fuck out of your tiny cunt while you cry because you can’t take it anymore.”