He narrows his eyes, so I do the same. He laughs. “I had to correct her once more.” Seeing his smugness makes me clench my fists, and I have to resist the urge to strike him. Taking a step back, I try to calm myself down as my hands clench at my sides. I don’t acknowledge his statement, because I have more of my own. I won’t let him control this conversation.
“What’s this about you talking to Melinda?” My eyebrows rise, and he stiffens. “Are you making promises you can’t keep? That seems a little dishonest."
A cold calculating smile stretches across his face, and it makes me want to rip his face off. “I never promised her anything like that,” he says, but I know better. “I had to present her with something. My heart was lonely, I needed comfort. So I offered her a bribe, for some attention in return.” I can tell from his tone that he’s so proud of himself, but I’m disgusted. That’s not the story she told me, but I won’t tell him that. There’s no need for me to; in the end we’re all playing the same game. He scoffs at me when he realizes I don’t have anything to say to that. “Don’t get all bent out of shape about it, Zedediah, he would have said no, anyway.”
The smile on his face widens. “Because,” he draws out his sentence as if it’s some tension-building cinematic effect. “He’s already told me that Melinda is mine.”
My eyes say more than my mouth is able to, and he can see it. “Keep one thing in mind, Zedediah. It is important that you do not turn your back on this fellowship. It is even more important that you do not turn your back on me—we wouldn’t want Catarina to suffer from the same fate as Lucy. Now would we?” The threat hits me like a punch to the gut, but I don’t show it. I fight the urge to kill him here and now. Sure, I could. I’d like to. Even so, I know it’s not the right time. Not yet, anyway. I brushthe rogue strands of hair out of my face. Gritting my teeth, I walk out of his office. I may not know all of the answers swirling inside of my head—but one thing I do know is Catarina is mine, and I will walk through the depths of hell to be her savior.
Chapter Thirteen
Catarina
Isit down at the table looking at the food in front of me. I’m really not hungry. Well not for food anyway. My appetite hasn’t been right since I got here. I haven’t spoken to Zedediah much since he’s been back, but I do catch myself staring when I shouldn’t. My mind has made little notes about him. Like how his jaw tenses when he’s deep in thought and that flicker in his eyes when he catches me looking. God, I want him, my body aches for him. But does wanting him mean I trust him? No. Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know. Does it?
My mind and body are in a game of tug-of-war, one I’d much rather not be playing. On one side, there’s the way the thought of him melts me. His touch, his words, it all pulls against the feeling of what he did to me, and both sides are putting up a pretty good fight.
He apologized—I hear the tiny voice in my head peck at me again. He’s the only person who’s ever apologized to me, so of course it felt genuine. But how do I know if he meant it? Plus, let’s be real. I was in a position where I had no other choice thanto take it. Where my only worth seemed to be how well I bent to his will, like they always have.
He didn’t put you there, Fenris did, and if you’re going to be honest with yourself, they did this to you. Mom and Dad.
I haven’t thought much of them since I arrived. Fenris mentioned they’ve called to ask about me, but I find that hard to believe. I mean, they couldn’t even be bothered to watch the van drive away. I close my eyes and feel Zed’s lips on mine, his hands tangled in my hair. The rush I felt when he pulled my body into his before pinning me against the wall. His body was pressed close enough that I could feel him through his jeans. I can still feel the fabric around my fingers from gripping his shirt before his tongue swept into my mouth. My cheeks flush remembering the way he pulled a moan from me while his hands explored the curves of my body with a possessiveness that made my knees weak.
Just focus on your sandwich, unwrap the brown paper, yeah, I’m good. I’m doing fine. I feel his eyes before I see them. I don’t look, at least not right away. I’m too busy giving myself a full-blown TED talk just to focus on something other than where he is. But, it’s no use. If I so much as think about him, a bat signal is sent straight to his dick. The moment I look up, I know I’ve lost. Because there he is. Zedediah sits in the shadows, his stare pinned to me like he’s trying to memorize every inch. When our eyes meet, it’s like the air in my lungs turns to smoke. I peel back more of the brown paper, tell myself I’m fine, and take a bite, all while holding his stare.
I’m not fine—I’m choking. Actually choking. The bread fuses to my esophagus like Gorilla Glue and my eyes begin to water as I slap my chest. I look up hoping he saw me, that someone sees me, but he isn’t there. I turn my head left and right as the panic sets in. I move to stand, looking to my right again, and see him stalking toward me like my choking is a mating call, andthank fuck for it. Then I realize how fucking slow he’s walking, or maybe everything is moving in slow motion as I die from an arousal-adjacent esophageal crisis.
My hands fly up to my throat and I close my eyes. The more I try to swallow, the more I struggle. Then, I feel him. His hands wrap around my waist, and I’m pulled against him. Suddenly I’m lifted off the ground as he starts bouncing me. Like actually bouncing me, up and down. His hands grow tighter around me, and the sandwich attempting to assassinate me is finally pushed out, landing with a disgusting splat as it lands across the table. I gasp for air as the remnants slide down, leaving my throat burning and raw.
I’m still in his arms that are laced tightly together, like he’s afraid to let go. I feel the thrum of his heart against my back as his face inches in closer to mine, his lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “Just breathe through it, Cat.” Those words land a little differently in my head. One hand starts patting my back while the other leans past me to the table, picking up my water bottle before helping me straighten up. He unscrews the top of the bottle and brings it to my lips. Both of my hands wrap around it, taking it out of his, and he helps me sit down before sitting beside me. I turn to him, still sipping. His lips twitch. “You’re lucky I was here.”
“Thanks,” I murmur before I spin around to place the bottle on the table. He has this proud look on his face. “Have you ever heard of the heimlich maneuver?”
His brows furrow together. “The what?” His tone lets me know he’s mocking me.
“Right. Remind me to never choke around you again.” I exhale and look at him; he just laughs. “Thank you, Zedediah. Really.” My hands fidget in my lap as I pick at my nails to try to distract myself from looking at him. It doesn’t work.
He leans back and my eyes linger on his chest before dragging down his front. The way his button-downs fit him just right. His tan forearms. His broad shoulders. I’m pretty sure this man was built to wreck me. I can practically feel my mouth watering just as he clears his throat. “Easy way to make us even. Call me Zed, sit with me tonight during chapel, and maybe…” He wiggles his eyebrows. He’s got to be joking.
“Did you save me so you would be able to plead your case?” I cock my head to the side.
“I thought I already lost?” He rubs his shoulder against mine. “I was just hoping for an appeal.” I don’t say anything. “I know you don’t owe me anything.” I arch a brow.
“Then why ask?”
“Because I’m selfish and want to see you beside me on the pew.”
“Fine. But I swear to god if you breathe on me without permission I’ll carve your apology into your ribs.”
He props his elbow on the table, cupping his chin and leaning in. “You plan on getting that close?” He has no idea just how bad I want to.
I lean back and he drops his voice to a teasing tone. “Watching you choke might’ve ruined turkey sandwiches for me, but I’ve never seen someone almost die and make it look that good.” He looks over and brushes his finger along the tray. My nose scrunches up.
“That is the most deranged thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He leans back into me. “Then you’d be appalled at what I was thinking when you were gasping for air.”
I laugh. “Gasping? That’s what does it for you?” I drag my eyes over him before I stand, putting my hands on my hips. “You should hear the noises I make when I’m not dying.” I spin and walk away, knowing he won’t be able to stand up for a good ten minutes.
