Page 61 of SKIN

Today, I needed to work on fattening her up a bit. Clearly her body was unfit to carry my child or she’d already be well on her way.

I released her legs before moving on to her ankles, then offered her a palm to help lower her back down to her feet. She scowled at me the entire time but didn’t dare say a word.

Someone was learning.

It took two steps down the hall for me to realize I was giving my pet far more credit than she was due. She dug her feet into the ground, forcing me to look over a shoulder to glare at her.

I take that back. Emily hadn’t learned shit.

“Where are you taking me now, Cohen?” She liked to use my name a lot. I think she thought it humanized me. It didn’t. It just turned me the fuck on. Something she claimed she didn’t want. Yet she kept doing it anyway.

“To my bedroom, Emily.”

“For what?”

“For whatever I damn well please,” I grunted before tugging her behind me again. She had to know I only paused in my steps because I chose to. Otherwise we’d still have been moving.

I didn’t have to look back again to know she was trying to take in her surroundings. Count doors. Memorize landmarks. There was no point. The tunnels beneath Briarwood were a maze of connecting rooms and dead ends. It took me years to figure them all out for myself. Longer than that to add the additions. Like my bedroom and her little cell. But I’d let her think she had a chance of finding a way out. Because it would be so much more amusing when I finally got to see the expression on her face when she realized she couldn’t.

A few minutes later, we were pushing through the metal door of my underground bunker. The room where I spent most of my time when I wasn’t out there looking for Emily. It wasn’t much to write home about, especially compared to my former life, but it sure as shit beat pissing in a bucket and sleeping on a concrete floor.

I dragged Emily inside and pressed the button on the panel that had everything locking from both sides. One of the little bonuses that came with making nice with Bugs. I helped him with medical shit and he helped me with the techy shit. Everything with the Renegades was about a fair trade—or at least it needed to appear that way. No one really sat down and made sure.

And, yeah, I still thought the name was fucking stupid. But I’d given up on trying to change Casper’s mind while Adrian like to appease the fucker wherever he could. His way of keeping the kid out of trouble. A feat that was almost as fruitless as whatever plan my pet was concocting in her head as she shot me what I could only assume was supposed to be a scathing glare.

I pulled the chair away from the little dining set I’d positioned in one corner of the room and motioned for Emily to sit down. She complied begrudgingly as I took my seat opposite her, lifting the dome of the plate I’d had Donnie deliver about thirty minutes ago.

It seemed my pet decided to sacrifice a hot meal for acting bratty, so now we both had to suffer and eat our food cold.

I handed her a dulled-edge fork—I wasn’t stupid—and began cutting up her steak into bite-sized pieces. Placing the utensil out of her reach but well within mine as soon as I was done. Then I stabbed a soggy piece of broccoli with my own fork, setting it into my mouth and forcing it down before landing my reluctant dinner guest with a smirk.

“Eat up, Emily. We have so much to discuss.”

73

EMILY

Ieyed the plate in front of me. Portions far larger than anything I’d seen since my last meal on the outside. And could feel the saliva pooling in my mouth.

I knew it would be stupid not to eat. First of all, I was starving. Second, refusing Cohen wasn’t an option. He’d get what he wanted. He always got what he wanted. Eventually. Me being here proof enough of that for everyone while the matter of how remained the only question in the equation. That said, I also knew the shit could be laced with any number of things. And the more of myself I gave to him, the more he would take.

It was a lose-lose situation. So I decided I’d rather lose with a much fuller belly and a bit clearer head.

The first bite of cold mashed potatoes had me holding back a moan and quickly scooping up another until I could feel his eye on me. Watching me. Following my every movement. Like I was the most interesting thing in the room. And considering where we were, maybe I was. This place was a far cry from the Cohen Michaels I knew. Or rather knew of. The one who always needed the fastest bike between his legs and the most popular girl… well, also between his legs. It was another reason his interest in me in college never made sense.

Besides the occasional insecurity, I didn’t question it all that much at the time. Mostly because I didn’t want to know the answer. But now I had to wonder…

Was there something about me that called to him? Something about the darkest parts of him that were drawn to the darkest parts of me? The parts that had me creeping closer to the sound of footsteps in my house instead of running away? Had me waiting for some shadowy figure in my bedroom instead of locking my door? Had me rushing to stash evidence in the trunk of my car instead of bringing it to the police?

Deep down, I had to admit the last five years felt almost empty without that hint of danger that seemed to follow me everywhere. Almost like if adrenaline didn’t have my heart rate spiking, I wasn’t sure if the damn thing was beating at all.

Maybe some of the demons in this room were my own… Or maybe Stockholm Syndrome was a very real thing and I was starting to sympathize with the devil a little too much. Fuck if I knew anymore. Fuck if I cared about anything other than some more butter melting on my tongue.

By the time my plate was practically licked clean, I was actually grateful for the airiness of the green dress he’d forced me to wear today, which gave my extended belly room to breathe. I set my little shaved-down fork on the table—smart move on his part—and glanced at the man in front of me.

“So what is it that you wanted to discuss, Cohen?” I quirked a questioning brow while settling my hands on my lap. No matter how much I was itching to grab for the knife at his side.

He shrugged a single shoulder. “Our future of course.”

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