“Of course. What’s mine is yours.”
Aiden tosses me a shirt. I catch it in one hand and try not to think about strangling him with it.
His smirk is more vicious than playful. I know he isn’t joking. He really doesn’t give a shit about me, and he probably cares even less about my father.
I can’t hope for anything with Aiden. Whatever shreds of hope I had are done, gone. It’s all ashes.
Thankfully, he doesn’t stoop so low as to follow me into the bathroom. I almost tear the thin strap of my dress as I yank it off, frustrated with everything that’s happening. I can’t believe I’m in this situation. I can’t believe I have to be here.
How did everything turn into a nightmare?
When I pull it on, the shirt barely covers my ass by an inch. I didn’t expect anything less.
I wash my face quickly, then run a hand through my hair to ruffle it before glancing at my reflection in the mirror.
I look nervous. Hunted.
That won’t do.
I press my palms into my cheeks until they’re flushed and count my breaths until they’re even. I stare into my own green eyes in the mirror until the sharp edge to them has hardened to marble. I won’t look like some damsel in distress.
I can hear Aiden move on the other side of the door. The floor creaks softly beneath his feet, and I know I can’t stall any longer, so I open the door and hold my things in my right hand, trying to keep it at my waist to distract from my legs.
His gaze lands on me for a moment, and I swear I can see heat in them, some flicker of what I saw in the car coming to life before it’s gone in a flash.
Doing my best to ignore him, I pad over to the bed and get in. I pull the covers up to my chest and try to pretend my heart isn’t racing.
I wait for him to head toward the bathroom, thinking maybe I can pretend to be asleep when he comes back, but he doesn’t go.
He starts stripping in front of me.
He’s not looking at me, thank god, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s impossible for me not to look at him.
He has tattoos I’ve never seen across his chest and arms, intricate things that remind me of the tapestries I saw when I arrived. There are words too, though they’re not in English and I don’t understand them.
He looks like a beautiful devil. Like a god of vengeance, a demon come to life.
When he gets down to his boxer briefs, my breath catches. But rather than stripping entirely, he goes into the bathroom, and I feel like I can breathe for the first time. I gasp in a lungful of air, pressing my hands to my cheeks.
I turn onto my side and try to pretend I’m falling asleep. The bathroom sink runs, then the light turns off as he comes over to the bed.
His body heat radiates into me as he crawls onto the mattress, and I curl up on my side, scooting away from him.
It doesn’t help. I can still feel him like we’re touching.
I stare at the wall for what feels like an eternity before I finally fall asleep, exhaustion winning out over the discomfort and uncertainty I feel.
* * *
My eyes snap open sometime in the middle of the night, my heart lurching. For a second, I’m dazed and disoriented, but as I remember where I am, I realize it was a sound that woke me. The room is dark, and I blink, staying still and quiet as I listen.
Aiden is muttering, his body twitching slightly as he dreams. I can’t tell what he’s saying, but his muffled words sound agitated.
He’s angry, in pain.
Fear spikes through me. I don’t know if I should wake him or not. I’m not sure if he might do something in his sleep.
