Page 87 of Penance

“Please what, Mercy?” he asks. His eyes narrow, his gaze sharpening like a serrated blade. “What do you want? Tell me.”

I want him to hold me, to tell me that this is all right, that I’m not damned for all eternity. I want him to take me, to claim me, to make me his in every sense of the word. I want to feel every inch of him, even if it hurts.

No.

Especially if it hurts.

I want him to cleanse me with pain.

I. Want. Him.

But the words won’t come. They’re stuck in my throat, choking me.

“I… I don’t know,” I stammer.

His eyes flash, and I can see the disappointment in them, the anger.

He’s mad.

Why?

What did I do wrong?

“Go to bed, Mercy,” he says, his voice cold and distant. “It’s late.”

Looking down, I can still see the outline of him tented against the front of his sweatpants.

It’s there. He wants me, but he won’t do it.

Why not? What did I do wrong?

I can feel the heat of his gaze. He has pulled me apart at the seams, only to leave me dangling like bait on a hook.

Doesn’t he want me?

After everything, after all the lines we’ve crossed, the sins we’ve committed, how can he just stand there?

Maybe I’m disgusting.

Maybe that’s why.

Am I?

“Draco, please?” I try again.

I need him to say something, anything. To explain why he won’t take me. His eyes narrow, a flash of something dark and dangerous crossing his face. I shrink back, my heart pounding. Maybe I’ve pushed too far, maybe I’ve finally crossed that invisible line of his.

There’s something so cold behind his eyes, and it scares me.

“You think you want this, Mercy?” he asks, his voice so calm that it’s chilling. “You think you want me?”

I do.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but now I can’t deny it.

I need him.

I need him like I need air to breathe, like I need my heart to beat.

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