Page 9 of Misery and Ecstasy

What?

That’s actually … thoughtful. And nice.

My trust issues are beginning to get out of hand.

“Oh.” The muscle between my eyebrows constrict as a feeling of stupidity hits me.

I feel bad for jumping down his throat. God, I need to get it together. Shaking my head slightly, I curl my hair behind my ears and try to settle down before I make myself look any more like a fool.

“You don’t have to do that, but thank you.”

He offers me a thin smile and starts back down the hallway.

“Uh … Draven,” His golden-honey eyes dark back to me. “How do you take your coffee? I’ll be happy to prepare it for you. Please don’t think of it as me waiting on you. I’m just not used to having people in my personal space.”

“Black is fine, thanks.”

I nod, turning away from him to grip the edge of my countertop. Why did I tell him that? I’m never,everone to just blurt out unsolicited facts about myself. It must be nerves.

Get it together, McK.

This is part of the reason I don’t want to work with the MC. They set me on edge from the second I enter their presence to the moment I leave it. I feel like I have to walk on eggshells around them, constantly in fear that I’m going to do or say something—ornotdo or say something—to get myself whacked.

Does the MC even call it that?

It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t feel like I can’t relax in my own home.

Although thinking about it, I guess I should feel safer being here rather than at their compound. Completely out of my element and miles from anyone who could save me if they suddenly decide they no longer need me.

I’ve put my trust and faith in Delilah being on my side. That the work I’ve done with her will keep me in their favor. But if I really think about it, I suppose she has the power to determine my fate just as much as Royce does.

Trying my best to push my fears from my mind, I wait for the coffee to finish brewing before pouring two mugs full and returning to the front of the house. The door to my office is open when I get there, and I find Draven sitting on the sofa across from my chair.

He’s relaxed into the end of it with one foot propped up on the edge of the table in front of him, his knee bent and leaning to the side. His elbow rests on the arm, and he appears deep in thought as he fingers the dark, five o’clock shadow on his chin.

“Here you go.” I grab his attention as I hand him his coffee.

“Thanks.”

I place my own mug on the table before dropping the file I got on him from the police station onto my desk. Then I grab a pad of paper and a pen before taking a seat across from him.

“Now,” I clear my throat, nervous to get this conversation started. “Let’s talk a little bit about why you’re here.”

CHAPTER FIVE

DRAVEN

Iattribute the visceral reaction I had when I touched the doc in her kitchen to the adrenaline surge I had from rushing to her side to keep her from toppling over.

The ache that cut into my wounds from the spill I took on my bike last night traveled from my chest out to the tips of my fingers and from my knees down to my toes. The tingling in my hands that began the moment I touched her faded away by the time she sat in the chair across from me.

Thankfully.

I don’t need one more insecurity taunting me while I’m sitting in the middle of a psychologist’s office I don’t want to be in. Not on top of the utter exhaustion I’m battling. All I want to do is go home and crawl into my bed. Though the moment I show my face at the compound, I have a feeling I won’t be getting much sleep. Not before Royce gets his chance to lay into me.

“Let me guess,” I speak before the doc is able to elaborate on the reason I’m here. “Royce is pissed at me, and he’s asked you to play a role in my punishment.”

Puckering her lips, she appears thoughtful before responding.

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