My body was shaking, and I tried to convince myself it was the cold air in the room, but I knew - I knew - it was him.
How was that possible? How could a man that was powerful enough to consume every room he occupied also be able to be as translucent as a ghost? As insubstantial as a shadow?
“You’ll have to prove it,” he finally answered, his palm brushing down my face to threaten my neck.
Tilting my chin up, I offered him that spot, every place, the air that I needed to breathe, the blood that pumped through my veins. He could have all of it if that would be proof enough.
The man could read my thoughts, apparently.
“You’ll give me everything? Even if I abuse it? Even if it hurts?”
A nod of my head, a squirm of my body over his mattress. The straps cut into my wrists, but I ignored the pain. It wasn’t worse than the whippings he’d endured as a kid, wasn’t worse than the way he tortured himself now. I deserved a little bit of pain if only to somehow relieve him of what he carried.
If I could soothe away his scars I would. If I could strip them off and mark my skin with them, I wouldn’t hesitate. I deserved them more than he ever would.
I’d caused them.
His lips brushed mine on a tease, the softest of temptation. But then he claimed my mouth, the kiss brutal, hard and punishing. I sighed into his mouth, my body heating, the sheets beneath me bunching as I rolled my hips in invitation.
One hand on my throat, the other went to my hip to still me in place. A sound of complaint crawled up my throat, but it didn’t affect him. He continued kissing me how he wanted, at his pace. My naked skin wasn’t enough to force his hand or bend his will.
I was beginning to think nothing could make Callan do what he didn’t want.
It made me envious of him.
His fingers squeezed my throat, but not enough to steal my breath. It was just one more tease.
When he released my hip, he trailed his fingers up my body, never stopping until they found the straps at one wrist, tugged it free, and then moved to the other.
Instant relief flooded me, my skin burning where the straps had been. Callan wrapped an arm beneath me and moved me enough that he could lie down and pull my back against his chest. I rolled my ass against his hips, but his hand clapped down to stop me.
“I have a fight tomorrow,” he said.
Terror raced like ice water through my veins.
“I know.”
“Then let me sleep. Unless you don’t want me walking out of that ring.”
My heart skipped a beat, coming back with a painful thud I could feel down to my toes.
“I don’t want you in that ring at all.”
Quiet laughter shook his chest, the heat of his body warming mine.
“That’s not for you to decide.”
Breath rattled from my lungs, a tremor taking over. “Will I be there tomorrow? At the fight?”
Callan nodded his head and tugged me closer. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Silence and then, “Because it’s time you learn where your family’s money comes from.”
Lisbeth
Callan was gone when I woke the next morning, his massive bed disturbingly empty, the sheets practically swallowing me. I breathed in his scent as if that could comfort me.
My stomach hurt. It’s what cracked my eyes open. Even in sleep I hated today, tonight, this life that kept me chained and constantly aching. I was a ball of frenzied nerves, my pulse painful and hard.
He could die tonight.
The thought was on repeat in my head.
I have no idea how long I lay there suffering the stinging cold of worry. Eventually, a knock at the door snapped me from the fog, a whip crack voice cutting through the wood.
“Lisbeth, it’s time to get up. You have work to do.”
Gretchen.
I was half happy to hear her voice and half annoyed. If anybody could snap me out of the dreadful haze, it was that woman.
“I’ll get dressed,” I answered.
“Be quick,” she snapped through the door. “I’ll wait for you out here.”
Be quick...
It was just like her. Which is probably why she was the best thing for me in the moment. Gretchen was sharp as a tack, and while I couldn’t stand how stern she was and how she held everybody to an impossible standard, I couldn’t claim she was a hypocrite.