Page 72 of Redeemed

“Colton—”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

I clench my jaw at his condescending tone and the blatant misogyny, but before I can say anything, he throws me over his shoulder and carries me across the garage.

“Colton! What the hell are you—”

He slaps my ass. “Shut up.”

I do, but only because I’m shocked into silence. The asshole justspankedme.

Inside the house, he sets me on his kitchen counter. The black granite is cool on the backs of my thighs, and my skirt flares out, now dirty from my fall.

“Stay,” he tells me.

My anger flares up again. First, he carried me inside like I’m an object to him, something to move around as he pleases, and now he’s giving me orders like I’m a fucking dog?

“You don’t own me,” I say, even though I’m in no position to piss him off right now.

He hums, the sound deep and dark. “We’ll see about that.”

Colton

IcanfeelHaven’sglare on the back of my neck as I leave the kitchen.Good.I want her pissed. These days, it’s the only time she looks alive.

In one of the downstairs bathrooms, I rummage around the cabinet for a first aid kit. I’m still ticked about the fact that she ran into the street and almost got herself killed, but I’ll deal with that later. For now, I’ll take care of her injuries and put her to bed.

A plan is already forming in my head. Idly, I’ve thought of finding a way to trap her into something like this. To torture her more intimately, to have her pretty tears to myself, to...

I swallow.

Notthat.

But then Haven walked directly into a trap I hadn’t even set yet, practically throwing herself at my feet and begging for my help. She has no idea what she’s done—no idea what I’m going to do to her.

Making my way back to the kitchen, I pull out my phone and shoot a text to Xander and Lucas.

Colton:Get over here fast. I have Haven. Bring the cage upstairs.

Not bothering to wait on their replies, I shove my phone into my back pocket. Haven is waiting obediently on the counter where I left her. I’d call her a good girl just to set her off, but we both know she’s not.

Instead, I soak her in as I cross the room.Fucking hell.Even though she ran halfway across town and then almost got hit by my car, she’s still as tantalizing as always.

She looks like my specific brand of sin, all curves and black lipstick that I’d love to smudge across her cheek. Images of her tied to my bed flit through my mind before I can stop them. Of her crying, screaming—from pain or pleasure, I’m not sure.

“This will probably sting a little.” Setting the kit next to her, I open a few alcohol wipes and start with her scraped knees.

She shies away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting these cleaned up before they get infected.”

“Yeah, I knowthat.”She bats my hand away when I try to continue. “But why areyoudoing it?”

“Don’t think you’ll particularly like the answer to that, angel.”

She winces at the nickname, as she often does. It held a different meaning before I started spitting it out with disdain. Back before she revealed herself to be a traitor. It hurts her, but she knows she deserves it.

She snatches the wipe from me. “I can do it myself.”

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