Chained (Caged #2)(17)

She blinked, jointly hurt and stunned by the tone of my irritation, and most probably my severe mood swing. “You promised.”

“No.” I took her chin in my fingers and glared at her, tightening my grasp on her until I saw the wince of pain flash in her eyes. “I nodded. A nod isn’t confirmation of an oath.”

“What are you scared of?”

I laughed, shaking my head at her naivety. “Scared? Oh, I’m not scared, I’m just not sure how sharing tales between us will make a damn bit of difference.”

“It won’t make any difference, but I just want to share something, anything, with you. I want to learn, Anderson. I want to understand.”

“You think we have a connection, but we don’t. I’m me. And you’re you. Romance didn’t bring us together, Kloe, nor did fate. You have these stupid notions that there’s an explanation for everything.”

“There is,” she whispered. “It’s the only way I can explain anything to myself.”

“Then you’re a damn fool.”

“Possibly. Yes. But how do you explain what brought us together. Neither of us, to begin with, had any idea of the similarities…”

“Similarities?” I scoffed. “You mean that we were both f*cked and f*cked up as kids?”

She flinched. I hated that I was hurting her yet I couldn’t stop every vicious word that fell from me.

“That we were both pinned down and bled over cocks and pain.”

“Stop it!”

“That we were both whores to the very people who were supposed to nurture us?”

“STOP IT!”

She tried to strike me but I grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards me, bringing her face to mine. “Accept it. You’re a whore, Kloe. You have proved that time and time again to me. So quick to spread your legs for me. So easy for my cock to slide inside you.”

“Why are you being like this?” she sobbed, the quick tears that ran down her face stabbing my heart and making me bleed for her pain. “I know you love me, Anderson. I know you do!”

“You stupid woman!”

Her watery eyes fixed on me and the dejection that wept from her engulfed me.

I took her cheek in the palm of my hand, and finally lowered my voice. “This isn’t love I feel. It isn’t soft. It isn’t romantic. It isn’t soul inspiring. It’s violent. It’s furious. A storm of rage that burns right down to my soul, Kloe. And it hurts. It’s f*cking agony.”

Her gaze on me softened and her lips lifted into a smile. Her reaction threw me, confused me. I couldn’t understand what she found so pleasing in my statement.

“And you say you don’t love me,” she whispered. “Love isn’t soft. It isn’t romantic. But when it’s furious and engulfing, then it’s the only type of love that’s right. It’s meant to be a rage that devours every part of you, Anderson. It’s meant to be f*cking painful. Because it is painful. Love is f*cking agonising.”

I frowned. My throat dried and I struggled to swallow. Kloe looked at me, that f*cking smile of hers making her pretty face all the more beautiful. Unable to resist, I took her hand and pressed it to my chest. We both felt the beat as though it belonged to both of us. “You think I have anything left in here to love you with? You think I’m even capable of love?”

“I know you are, Anderson.”

“I…”

We both jumped when the bedroom door flung open and Robbie’s silhouette carved a black sculpture against the bright background of the hallway. I blinked when he didn’t move, bewildered by his sudden entrance.

“Rob?”

Kloe’s breathing shallowed, and very slowly she uncurled her legs and stood from the bed. “Anderson?” Her voice was quiet and hesitant as we both stared towards Robbie.

When he finally fell to his knees, Kloe shot across the room. Instantly she lifted him onto her lap and lifted his face to hers.

“Call an ambulance,” she yelled. “Anderson, phone for an ambulance.” Her eyes found mine, her tears glistening in the soft light now spilling into the room. “He’s been stabbed.”





HOURS WE’D BEEN SAT IN the dreary and aged room within the hospital’s casualty department where we’d been ushered in as the sun broke through the black sky. Anderson hadn’t shifted from his spot by the window, the old and decrepit chair he sat in struggling to contain his huge body.

He hadn’t said a word to me as we waited for news of Robbie. He hadn’t even acknowledged me. I wanted to help him, to hold him and soothe the turmoil that spread through him like a wildfire.

“Do you want a drink?” I asked again, sick of hearing the sound of my own voice. And once again I was met with silence.

Blowing out a breath, I decided to stretch my legs and go in search of a vending machine. Just as my hand rested on the handle of the door, Anderson finally spoke. “Don’t think of running, little wolf.”

I wasn’t sure if it was anger that overpowered me, or frustration. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.” The tone of his voice was so different from the man I had woken beside; it was sharp, harsh and low, a growl of ice that made my ears hurt. The caring and soft Anderson was gone, replaced by a personality that confused me. I hadn’t encountered this one yet, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like him very much.