Page 35 of Chain Me
I was breaking my resolve to stay angry again. Perhaps hating him took too much effort? Still grinning, I looked over—but Dublin wasn’t laughing. Instead, his eyes cut to mine, imparting a chill that made me shiver.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh?” I returned my attention to the view and braced my fingers over the glass. “About what?”
His scoff warned that he wasn’t playing along this time—but anger I could stomach. His low tone alarmed me far more. “I think you know what.”
Did I?No, I decided, shaking my head. “I’m tired.” I turned toward a random direction. “Is the bedroom this way?”
“Eleanor.”
Before I could take a step, his hand fell over my shoulder pinning me in place.
“I’ve played along until now,” he admitted. “But I lack the energy to pretend anymore.”
“Pretend?” I asked innocently.
“Yes, pretend—as though you don’t know what really ails you. It isn’t cancer.”
A part of me felt relieved that I couldn’t see his face from this angle—and that he couldn’t see mine.
“My contract was one aspect requiring clarity, but now we need to discuss—”
“I don’t want to talk about this now,” I said. “Frankly, I’m not in the mood for more personal attacks on my character, either—”
“Can you blame me?” His strained tone turned cutting. “Put your pride aside for a second. This isn’t a little game, or a fantasy, or a contract that you can confront by stripping naked and turning the tables. This is your life. For whatever reason, I’d rather not see you squander it in denial.”
“As if you care.” Because he didn’t obviously. At least, not beyond some ulterior motives he had yet to reveal. Sighing, I tossed out potential answers, saving him the trouble. “Allow me to guess why. Raphael has put a bounty on my head? Or maybe your aim is more selfish than that? You get your precious years back as long as you—”
“I’m trying to talk to you reasonably. You decide to provoke.” His grip tightened, straining the fabric of my dress. I could feel the ridge of every finger and memories triggered. Sensations I didn’t want to recall. Emotions I didn’t need. All of them descended at once, constricting my chest in a vice. “Look at me.” He spun me to face him. “You demanded an apology. Fine. You have one.”
God, I trembled at what I saw in his gaze, lurking beneath the gray irises, so faint that it could have been a figment of my imagination. Hate?
Or something far worse.Guilt.
“But I won’t humor you anymore. I refuse to let you mock me as well.” His tone deepened and I understood the true source of his irritation. I had the nerve to taunt the great and terrible contractor with two concepts that seemed to affect him more than any other. Life and death. “According to Dr. Martin, your condition is not fatal. And yet you still choose to refer to your mortality as casually as the weather? Fine. But first, face the fact that youmayhave a tumor. Or—”
“Stop.” I had to clench my hands into fists to keep from slapping them over my ears as he snarled his next words.
“Orsomething far different. If I can acknowledge as much, why can’t you? Say it.”
“Fine. Somethingunnatural.” I blinked, surprised as moisture slid down my cheeks. “So unnatural that you accused me of having loose morals rather than believe it. Is that what you want me to say? I would rather have a tumor—”
“I had every reason in the world to deny it,” he pointed out. “Or at least deny that I had any part in it. Can you admit that?”
Maybe I could… If life and death weren’t the very tools of his trade.
“So, why believe it now?”
He laughed, spitting out each chuckle through clenched teeth. “Perhaps because I’ve ceased being surprised by anything where you are concerned? And I don’t want to fight with you, but I won’t watch you lie to yourself, either.”
More tears spilled from my eyes though I wasn’t sure why. “Why not? Tormenting me is what you do best, after all.”
“Stop trying to bait me into a fight.” He reached out, tucking a stray curl behind my ear.
I went rigid—there was no gentleness in the act. He lingered as if daring me to recoil, so I dug my heels in just to ensure I didn’t.
But then he remained, taunting me with seconds of contact. So, I gave in and tried to swat his fingers away. “I’m not the one who attacked your character—”
