“Take a guess,” he dares. My senses scatter as he leans in close and brings the paintbrush up to leave a dab of red along my cheek. I jump, though it’s little more than lukewarm paint. “I think you know what,” he murmurs, flicking his gaze down to my chest. “Something important to you.”
He makes his intentions very clear when he waggles his eyebrows.
“Fuck you.” I put everything I have into making my voice sound as scathing as possible.
“Fuck me.” His smile widens as he traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. “Now there’s an offer I might consider—”
“Get away from me!” I try to push past him, but his hand latches on my forearm.
“Not so fast.”
My brain stalls. Self-preservation replaces every ounce of fear. Endurance fails. Nothing matters but getting away, and I resort to the dirtiest of tactics I know. Hollowing my cheeks, I spit in his face.
“The fuck?” He rears back, swiping at his jaw, and I succeed in shoving past him, my eyes on the door.
Before I even go a single step, he grabs my shoulder and yanks me back. My arm flies out and strikes a pile of paintings, sending them toppling, but the clamor doesn’t faze him.
“Would you?” He tightens his grip until I wince. All trace of mocking is gone from his tone, and it’s icier than ever. “Would you trade yourself to pay Zhang’s debt?”
“Let go of me.”
“Answer the fucking question. Would you?” The choice is too dangerous to even contemplate. So he spells it out with a sneer and a whisper. “Fuck a stranger to save an old man?”
“I said, let go of me!”
“Just admit it,” he goads, unconcerned by my struggle. “Because I think deep down, you knew what coming here alone really meant, rabbit. What was it?” He lowers his mouth to my ear. “You wanted to earn your Girl Scout badge? Do your good deed for the day? Girls like you are all the same. You want to save the world but run scared shitless when you discover that protection comes with a price. The others learned their lesson. But with you? Maybe I’ll make an exception—”
Pepper spray. I reach into my bag, but he surprises me by backing away with both hands raised before I can activate the nozzle. Another coy smile distorts his lips. “Careful. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“You too.” I stare at the bandage on his hand pointedly. “Don’t touch me. If you think you can use Mr. Zhang as a bargaining chip to assault me, you can think again.”
My bottom lip trembles, undermining how intimidating I might seem. God, I can’t breathe.
Trade. Trade. I hate that he’s right. Money alone would have been too damn easy. Even Mr. Zhang had alluded to the truth that his debt went way beyond a few dollars. Blood money. And if it all wasn’t paid tonight, then what fate might await an elderly man too terrified to even call the police? What might the bastard before me obliterate next beyond the glass of a display window?
The thoughts won’t stop coming. One. Right. After. The. Other.
But I’m not shaking in the face of them.
Again, I feel like my blood is boiling, feeding off the rage only he has ever inspired in me before. It’s…intoxicating.
“You couldn’t just leave it at stealing books? Though I doubt you even know how to read. You want to add r-rape to your repertoire?” Disgust laces my tone, along with flecks of spittle that strike his bare chest. “You’re pathetic!”
“Again, the little rabbit speaks.” He strokes his chin, eyeing me through a heavy-lidded gaze. His intentions are harder to read this way, his motives impossible to guess. “The way you run your fucking mouth… I bet you really are a screamer, rabbit.”
I recoil against a nearby table. “You’re sick!”
“I am.” Another laugh rumbles from his chest as he shrugs. “I don’t know about rape. But I’ll tell you what I really want.” He comes even closer this time. By sheer willpower, I bite back a scream when he reaches out, snagging the hem of my shirt with fingers streaked with scarlet paint.
“I want to play, little bunny. An hour,” he proposes as cool air ghosts my belly. Winding his fingers, he lifts the hem of my sweater higher, higher… “You’re mine. I do whatever the fuck I want to you. You can’t say shit after. By tomorrow, Mr. Zhang