Shattered King(18)

But there was another threat. One I had no defense against. I could feel it building between us, breaking through the harsh words and the disgusted looks. It was volatile and fierce. So hot it had the ability to burn me alive. If he chose to act on it, not fight it like I knew he was, I wouldn’t be able to say no. I could never say no to him.

I couldn’t let that happen, for my own sanity.

If he touched me like that . . .

I jammed the key into the dried paint, slicing and chipping at it. I couldn’t allow myself to think about that, or I might give up. I might put the key back in my pocket and do nothing. I might sit here and wait for him to come for me. I might let it happen. I squeezed my eyes closed.

Shit.

How did I become this, this weak, broken person? Hunter might hate me, but not as much as I hated myself.

I don’t know how long it took, but I’d been in here all day—working on the window for half of that time at least. My fingers were cramping, but finally I’d removed enough of the paint around the sides to open it. Shoving the key in my pocket, I grabbed the latch and tested it. The thing barely moved. Gripping the latch with both hands, I pushed as hard as I could. It opened with a loud squeak. I paused, listening, holding my breath.

Nothing.

I went up on my tiptoes on the toilet seat, pulling the window open farther, and poked my head and shoulders through. It was dark outside, silent apart from the rustling leaves and the sound of insects chirping. I wriggled and dragged myself up to my waist. The intense darkness, the lack of sound that wasn’t bug or tree related, gave me pause. I didn’t know where I was, had no way of getting away. My only option was to go on foot and hope like hell I didn’t get lost, that another car came along so I could hitch a ride.

Shoving down my fear, I pushed up farther, shimmying, working my butt though the small gap.

A hand wrapped around my ankle. “Going somewhere?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I stayed where I was, ass in the air, head dangling, afraid to move. He gave my leg a tug, and I kicked out in a last ditch effort to break free. The hand left my ankle and then two were at my hips, dragging me back in.

“No! Let me go.” I fought his hold.

It did me no good. I was pulled back inside, ass hitting the toilet seat a second later. Hunter reached up and shoved the window shut, then lifted me off the toilet and carried me into the living room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I landed on the couch hard, head bouncing on the firm cushions. I stared up at him, but he ignored me, walked away to the kitchen, and came back with a bottle of water and two slices of pizza.

“Eat.”

He was pissed, so I kept my mouth shut and did what I was told. Plus, I was starving. I finished both pieces quickly and half the water. He grabbed my arm again and dragged me to my feet, but went past the bathroom door and toward a room at the back. “Where are we going?”

“Bed.”

“What do you mean, bed?”

He didn’t answer and flicked on the bedroom light.

The room was small. A double bed with a slatted headboard and a floral quilt sat in the middle, a dresser beside that. Nothing else. I wanted to run screaming from the room.

“Lie down,” he barked.

I did what I was told, without protest. Protesting would be pointless. I heard the chain when he lifted it, threaded through the baseboard. He wrapped it around my ankle, padlocking it into place. The chain wasn’t too thick, but it was cold and uncomfortable.

“Now what?” I whispered.

“Now I get some fucking sleep.”

He yanked his T-shirt over his head, revealing all that beautiful inked skin. His jeans sat super low, a trail of dark hair leading my gaze even lower. God, I remembered kissing my way down that taut stomach, tracing those abs with my tongue. His chest was more defined, arms thicker. I’d never seen a man more beautifully made. He turned his back, and I traced every stunning inch of him with my hungry gaze. Across his shoulders and back, down to his narrow hips . . .

I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of my name inked into his skin. It hurt to look at it, to look at him. To look at what was once mine. What I’d been forced to give up. But Hunter wasn’t just a gorgeous body. When he let you in, like he had me, you were the luckiest girl in the whole damn world. I’d never get over it. Never get over him.

The light flicked off, and a second later the mattress dipped. He didn’t touch me, kept to his side of the bed. He used to roll me into him, even if he was asleep. He’d pull me close, tangle his legs with mine, arm around my waist, hand going to my chest. Always.

I rolled away, onto my side and listened to him breathing in the dark.

How was I supposed to sleep with him right beside me?