I’d barely taken a full breath before the air rushed from my lungs again, my body trembling as he held me in place, his head tilting to the side as he watched me struggle.
“Is that what you want, Lisbeth? To taste me?”
It wasn’t like I could answer him with the way his hand crushed my face, wasn’t like I couldn’t shake my head no, or nod with an emphatic yes. I could barely think in that moment, much less react. So, I stared silently instead.
Callan knew it.
He had to.
His expression said every word he wasn’t speaking, his eyes drinking me in while his mouth hovered a teasing inch from mine.
“Our paths have crossed again, Lisbeth. And that’s your fault, not mine. It wasn’t my decision whether to bring you to this house or leave you homeless. And I couldn’t care less about if you’re penniless or not. All I care about is where we are now and what I’ll do to you while I have you. I hope you enjoyed manipulating me when we were young. For abusing me. For laughing with your friends at the poor little servant boy who wasn’t allowed to fight back. This is what he grew into because of you. So, stop thinking you have the right to ask anything of me. Not for me to talk. Not for me to let you go. And not for me to stop hurting you. Because I won’t ask for anything from you. If I want something, I’ll take it. Are we clear?”
I couldn’t respond, couldn’t say a damn thing with my jaw held open and the inside of my cheeks scraping against my teeth. It was impossible for me to do anything except hang where his hand held me in place, but I guess it didn’t matter.
The bastard nodded my head for me, just before his hand released my face and I fell to the ground.
Back on hands and knees, I knew when he’d pushed to his feet again, could see the shadow of his body hovering over me.
“I’m glad you understand. Now clean this mess the fuck up.”
Coughing now that I could breathe again, I clenched my eyes shut as he walked away from me, every step rattling the floor beneath my body until he went quiet. I lifted my head to see he’d retaken his place on the couch, his arms extended over the backrest, his legs stretched out in front of him.
Like a king on his damn throne, Callan sat waiting for me to entertain him.
There was no way in hell I would ask him to talk again, his deep voice still wrapping my bones in warning. He didn’t just hate me for what I’d done to him, Callan wanted to wipe me out of existence.
Something broke inside me at that moment. Not my heart or my pride, something else. I couldn’t put my finger on just what it was, but he somehow knew. And now, as he stared across the room at me waiting for me to clean for him, I stretched my jaw to relieve the pain from the way he’d held me.
I was a Rose.
Just like him.
Regardless of whether he ran this family or not. And even if he had me trapped in place right now, he couldn’t keep me here forever.
There had to be a way out of this, but I wouldn’t find it by poking the beast so much that I got myself killed.
No.
I had to be as devious as him.
He wanted my pride. That much I could tell from the way he watched me. And if that was the only thing that would please the man, I would make damn sure it was the only thing he couldn’t take from me.
Because that’s the truth when it’s all broken down: nobody can take your pride if you’re not willing to give it to them.
They can abuse you. They can make you crawl. They can kill you in the end if that’s what they want.
But they’ll never take what matters most unless they can trick you into hating yourself.
I had shame. And my past wasn’t always pretty. But I wouldn’t allow him to drown me in his bitter hatred, not when I knew I could change.
Callan may be able to make me crawl, but he would never change who I am.