to believe it was for him so badly, he yanked viciously at his chains, trying to break free. She stilled and glanced up at him warily from under her lashes, still not meeting his eyes.
“Sorry,” he said thickly.
She lowered her gaze again and moved closer. Her scent invaded his senses, and he wanted to fucking cry, to roar in frustration. Why wouldn’t she remember? He needed her to remember.
Placing her bowl on the floor, she wrung out her rag and began her daily task, cleaning his wounds, healing them for the next round of torture. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as her delicate fingers gripped that rag, moving it gently over his abused flesh.
And like every day, he asked her the question he was desperate for her to answer. “What is your name, female?” His heart continued to thunder in his chest as he waited, desperate for her to answer, to say anything, to hear her voice again.
Her hand stilled for a split second, but instead of ignoring him and carrying on cleaning his wounds like she always did, she paused and licked her lips before her gaze darted to his for a split second. “I…I don’t know,” she said softly.
His fucking legs almost gave out. Her voice. Christ, it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. It would be light and sweet if it wasn’t for that slight rasp she’d always had. He loved that fucking rasp. It hit him in the gut, and he wanted to laugh, fucking weep, from the pleasure of hearing her again.
She rinsed the rag in her bowl again and brought it back to smooth over his shoulders, up his throat, and along his jaw where the demon had sliced him deeply. “What is your name?” she asked.
He had to swallow several times to get his voice to work. “Tobias,” he rasped. “My name is Tobias.”
Her hand stilled, and her gaze met his again for a brief moment. “Tobias,” she repeated like she was tasting it on her tongue.
“Your hair,” he said. “So beautiful.”
She licked her lips nervously again. Another thing that was all Scarlet, his Scarlet.
“Th-thank you, for wearing it down. I’ve been imagining how it would look since I first saw you. You’re so incredibly beautiful, I’m finding it hard to breathe.”
She shook her head. No. She didn’t see herself the way he did.
“Yes,” he said.
She backed up a step.
“Don’t go.”
“I have to,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder.
“Please. Please stay with me, just a little longer,” he begged.
She shook her head, looking distressed, and turned to leave.
“Can I give you a name?” he called after her. “Since you don’t have one.”
She paused at the door and nodded without looking back.
“Scarlet,” he said, his voice breaking as pain sliced through him. “Your name is Scarlet.”
She rushed out the door, closing it behind her.
And Tobias began counting down the minutes until she came back again.
Chapter 9
Lazarus nudged him with an elbow as Gunner paused at the end of the hall, watching as Grace, Eve, Meredith, and Mia, armed with bags of “apartment warming” shit, stood outside the room Luna had insisted on having—away from him.
He didn’t want her down here with the other demi. He wanted her in his apartment, where she belonged. Everyone, his brothers and their mates, knew she was his, his female. Luna was oblivious. And okay, that wasn’t unheard of. Grace sure as hell hadn’t wanted anything to do with Chaos, even though she’d known who he was, and Eve and Mia had been drawn to Zenon and Laz, but they hadn’t understood what it was.
Luna seemed…indifferent.
What happened now?
He couldn’t force her to want him, to fall head over heels for him like he had her the moment he’d opened that fucking basement prison cell and felt her familiar presence.
“Don’t overthink it, brother,” Laz said.
Zenon’s yellow eyes slid from his mate back to Gunner before he nodded his agreement.
Gunner huffed out a breath. “Easy for you to say. Eve actually wanted you.”
“Give her time.” The muscle in Lazarus’s jaw jumped. “Fuck knows what she went through with that monster.”
Zenon’s entire face went hard, his irises washing black. “Need to be patient, Gun.”
Planting his hands on his hips, Gunner met Zenon’s hard yellow gaze head-on. “I know that. Do I want her? I fucking crave her like oxygen, but I don’t need to tell either of you that. I also shouldn’t have to tell you that I would rather cut off my own fucking head than hurt her