him.
I didn't even get my apparent newfound interest in old poetry.
There was just something hypnotic about the way he recited the poems—with a sort of reverence I found myself inexplicably drawn to.
"Are you done pretending you're asleep?" Ace asked, making me jolt at the sudden change in tone.
His reading voice was smooth and soothing.
The voice he used on me was sharp, cutting.
Like he was annoyed with me.
With me!
Meanwhile, I was the one ripped off the street, cuffed, injured, held captive, used, and drugged.
The bastard.
"I was hoping you would shut up and leave," I told him, sitting up, my chin jerking up.
"Dressed up for me to tell me to fuck off?" he asked, closing his book as his gaze raked over my exposed skin. And there was a lot of it, thanks to Red's signature style.
"For your information, Red seems to be allergic to cotton and comfy," I told him, confused and annoyed by the way the skin his gaze moved over felt suddenly warm and sensitive. I was sure that if I looked down, I would find a flush over my chest and neck. So I went ahead and didn't look down. I didn't need proof of how screwed up I was about this whole situation, and this man in particular.
He ignored that, likely knowing it was true.
"No riveting commentary about the poem selection tonight? Were they, perhaps, pretty?" he asked, not even trying to pretend he wasn't mocking me, throwing my own words back in my face.
"Why are you such an asshole?" I snapped, too annoyed to care about keeping the peace, not provoking my captor. "I mean, where do you get off being so nasty? Were you the one kidnapped, held against your will, and drugged? If you find me so inconvenient, you can let me go. I will even let my damn self out," I said, flicking off the blanket, and making my way toward the door.
It wasn't like I thought he would actually let me go.
I was just sick of being a good little captive while he made me miserable and confused.
My hand barely even closed around the doorknob before I heard a growling noise—so animalistic-sounding that I felt my heart leap in my chest—a second before a hand slammed into the door above my head as another hand grabbed the back of my neck, yanking me backward, forcefully turning me. His hand slid around my neck to my throat, slamming me back against the door by it.
"Don't fucking test me," he demanded, voice rougher than I'd heard it.
And his eyes.
His eyes didn't seem so blue anymore.
They seemed red.
But no.
That didn't make any sense.
People didn't get red eyes.
It was just a trick of the light.
I swallowed hard.
Because I was supposed to be terrified.
Why, then, was there something else coursing through my system? Something warm and liquid, something that made my nerve endings feel like they were humming, something that made me very much aware of an oppressive weight on my lower stomach?
"Or what?" I heard myself asking the question like I was suddenly outside my body, watching on as some weird, bold, daring version of myself decided to try to go toe-to-toe with her captor.
"You should keep your mouth shut, Josephine," he told me, my name sounding way too good rolling off of his tongue. "Or I will find some other use for it," he added.
It was a threat.
Yet my sex tightened at the sound of it.
"You said you wouldn't force me," I reminded him, head feeling a little swimmy with the pressure of his fingertips on each side of my throat.
"You think I'd need to force you?" he challenged, hand sliding to my shoulder, pushing until I started to go down on my knees.
I knew I was going to hate myself for it, but my hands rose, grabbed the front of his pants, and started drawing them down.
I had no idea, though, just how much I was going to be disgusted with myself when his hand suddenly grabbed my chin, fingers digging in.
"Told you," he said, eyes as cold as his voice.
And with that, he yanked his pants back into place, sidestepped me, and made his way out of the room, closing, and locking the door.
Leaving me there on the floor feeling pathetic and rejected.
Which was fitting, I guessed.
Because I had been pathetic.
What the hell was going on with me? Why would I want someone who had treated me like he did?
Maybe it was something primal.
There was no denying Ace was extremely alpha, dominant, the