Page 33 of Shadowman
He asks the question as if he already knows, and it turns my stomach.Because I’m sure he does.
“No one,” I mutter. “I wanted to playCandy Crush.”
This time, he actually laughs. Even so, it’s a low, growly,I can’t believe your audacitysort of sound.
“Byron, you seem to forget that I’ve always given you the benefit of the doubt.” He lifts a light eyebrow, and I gulp. “Never once have I interfered in your affairs, or held you accountable, despite your often questionable choices…”
“Like what?” I seethe defensively. It just comes out, like the quip of a petulant child.
But he gives me an obvious look that has me shrinking into myself. “I can only hope you know what you’re doing.” He sighs. “I’d hate to see such potential squandered on some pretty blue eyes and a brilliantly deceptive mouth.”
Now my jaw is clenched so tightly, my teeth are aching. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…”
The Ivory shakes his head admonishingly, giving me thattsk-tskbullshit. Heated shame is rushing up my neck, and it’s pissing me the fuck off. “I know it feels good in the moment, but he’ll never be your Michelangelo…”
In an instant, I’m set ablaze. His words, the match on my puddle of kerosene.
Launching at him, I lean in close, hovering over him while my chest heaves with rage. If my hands weren’t cuffed behind myback, I’d be grabbing him by the throat. Undoubtedly a terrible idea, but I can’t help it. I’m fast-fuming.
“You don’t get to say that name to me,” I snarl. “I’m done playing games. I’d rather you just slit my throat and be done with it.”
The Ivory is entirely unaffected by my threatening stance.Of course.If anything, it’s just entertaining him more. Straightening, he inches his face up to mine, holding me still with those black irises.
“My sweet Byron,” he whispers over my mouth. “Where’s the fun in that?”
In a snap, he grabs me by the shoulders and shoves me to my knees. I crash onto the floor with a wince, but I don’t have time to register the pain becausehishand is aroundmythroat.
“I cannotbelievehow ungrateful you’re being,” he hisses, long fingers digging into me. “Do you know that I believed you from day one, Byron? I saw the truth in you when no one else did, and this is the thanks I get?!” His tone is taking on a maniacal volume as his grip tightens, cutting off my air supply. “You should bebowingat my feet, you little shit. We’re done playing whenI saywe’re donefucking playing.”
Having him in my face, saying these words, is infinitely more terrifying than him choking me. He’s not loud by any means, and yet he’s roaring at me like a malicious beast. I know he could tear me to shreds with his bare hands, and he’d probably love to do it.
But Manuel Blanco’s weapon of choice has been, and always will be, his ability to get inside your head…
And turn it into his personal playground.
The fear, the way my pulse is rapping frantically beneath his palm, the deranged twinkle in his obsidian eyes… On my knees while evil bares its teeth right in front of my face. It sends an unexpected lightning bolt through my insides.
I don’t understand it, not one single fucking bit. But my skin is balmy, and my lips are quivering.
“I’m… s-sorry,” I croak, blinking a hazy gaze up at him.
His grip loosens slightly, as if I’ve uttered the magic words. And he growls, “Say it again.”
“I’m so sorry,” I breathe. He loosens more. “Sir…”
A hum rumbles from within his throat, dark eyes falling to my mouth.
I feel like I’ve been strung up by my feet. My blood is rushing, fire burning me from the inside out, flushing my entire body until I’m sweating.
I can’t believe this is happening to me again…
“Why do you insist on testing my patience, inmate?” He finally releases my throat, sliding his fingers to cup my jaw. “You know how much worse I can make things for you…”
I don’t really know what he’s talking about. It barely even seems like he’s talking to me…
And yet, I nod. Rippling with fear, but also some bizarre heat. “I know.”
“Is it because you… like it?” Fingertips brush over my bottom lip.
