Page 127 of Shattered Souls
I’ve barely allowed myself to give them more than a passing thought since I left the hockey arena. In my bones, I know they’re out there looking for me. Hunting for answers. However, I can’t simply sit back and wait for them to find us.
Which means I’ll have to play Bertram’s twisted game until I can figure out how to get me and Aurora safely out of here.
Seconds.
Minutes.
Hours.
Time is an irrelevant thing as I sit numbly on his lap, cocooned in my own world, until my head is wrenched to the side with enough force to have tendons snapping along my neck.
My lips part on a gasp as a sharp pain skitters along my nerves, my wide eyes clashing with dark ones that are so familiarand yet so distinguished from the ones I’ve gotten used to seeing every day.
“Isn’t that right?”
An edge to his tone makes it clear he’s been trying to get my attention for a while.
“Sorry,” I apologize around a choked throat. “What were you saying?”
His eyes narrow, his hand on the top of my thigh tightening to the point of pain.
“That you’re going to be a good girl and do as I say.” Loosening his grip on the back of my head, he strokes a finger eerily gently down the side of my face. “That you’ve got this defiance out of your system.” His nail drags across my lower lip, and I shiver at the sheer act of possession. At how he so brazenly touches me. Claims what has never been his. I don’t know if he mistakes my disgust for pleasure or if he gets off on how I react to him, but his eyes flash with a gleam, stare raking over my face. “I’m done with the teasing and the games. I’ve cleared the path for us to be together, and I’m just about out of patience, so I would advise younotto push me any further.”
Questions stick in the back of my throat, rendering me speechless as I slowly blink back at him. I swallow, his gaze dropping at my audible gulp before flashing back to my face. He tilts his head to the side, and it’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen—being analyzed by someone so incapable of empathy but who is well-versed in reading my every emotion.
“Or am I going to have to call dear little Aurora down here again?”
“N-no.”
His responding grin is the least bit comforting. It’s like staring into the maw of a rabid wolf standing over you, getting high on your fear before it goes in for the kill.
“Good.” His gaze flicks behind me. “Go make sure she’s tucked up in her bed for the night then join me in my room.”
At the offered escape, I slide from his lap. However, I barely make it to my feet before he captures my face. His fingers dig into my cheeks, and his expression is terrifyingly unreadable—kind of like Grayson’s used to be back when he first hauled me into his house. Only now, I realize Grayson hasn’t looked at me like that in a long time. Unlike his father, I can interpret the emotions behind his facade even when he doesn’t want me to.
“Where are your manners?”
“S-sorry.” He arches a brow, and another involuntary shiver wracks me. “Daddy.” I go to pull away again, but those punishing fingers threaten to slice through my skin.
He doesn’t say anything. Simply waits for me to put the pieces together. To figure out what he wants. My thoughts scramble.
His free hand slides up the back of my thighs, over the curve of my ass, before it flattens against my lower back, forcing me closer.
No.
My eyes widen with understanding, satisfaction flashing across his face when he realizes I’ve connected the dots.
Using his harsh grip on my face and hand on my back, he forces me closer. I resist at first, internally screaming my protestations.
“This is not my good little girl,” he rasps against my lips. I can feel the sting from where his fingers have broken the skin on my cheeks. “Maybe the time apart has changed you.” Again, those dark, menacing eyes flick toward the door where Aurora disappeared. “Perhaps I need to start again with Aurora. She’s a bit young for my tastes, but oh, how I could mold her.” His lips quirk. “I could make her perfect for me.”
“N-no,” I stammer. “No. There’s no need for that.”
With his gaze thankfully riveted on me once more, he no longer drags me toward him. Instead, he waits, the picture of endless patience.
Forcing back the urge to gag, I drop my gaze to his chest. I place my hand over his sternum before slowly sliding it over his shoulder and along his neck. Dragging my attention back to his face, I force the words he wants to hear past my lips. “You don’t need her. I’ll be your good girl.” I lick my lips, his gaze tracking the movement with a predatory focus. “Iamyour good girl.”
Dark eyes meet mine, his voice husky as he says, “Prove it.”
