Does It Hurt? (47)
He takes a menacing step toward me, a black shadow blanketing him. “Did he touch you again?” He doesn't wait for an answer, turning to glower at the door. “Lo uccido,” he spits, deathly calm.
“What does that mean?”
He turns to me, searing me beneath his blazing stare. “It means I’m going to fucking kill him, Sawyer.”
I scoff, baffled at why the hell he’s acting like he gives a shit.
“Whatever. You don’t have much room to talk anyway.”
He turns that glower to me, and I shift. He's seriously scary.
“Come again?” he challenges.
“Well, did you not fuck me while actively drowning me? You’re going to act like there isn’t something wrong with that?”
A dimple begins to appear in his cheek, and I swear to God, if the fucker actually smiles right now, I’m going to kill him.
“You’re right,” he concedes, pausing a beat before saying, “and I’d do it again. I’m the only one allowed to touch you, bella ladra, and I’m the only one who will cause you pain. Capito?”
My eyes widen in shock, and for a few seconds, the only thing I’m capable of is sputtering at him.
“What are you—a barbarian? Did cavemen raise you?”
“I wouldn’t call nuns cavemen,” he responds casually. I just stare at him, and he calmly walks to the bed, picking up the book and studying it. I get the feeling he’s just trying to distract himself from me, and for some reason, that pisses me off more.
“You were not raised by nuns.”
“Where did you get this?” he asks, wiggling the book and ignoring me.
“The bookshelf. It's a shelf that you put books on,” I clip. “Where did you get your audacity?”
He continues to ignore me as he flips through the book, refusing to offer me a real response.
My hands ball into tight fists, a cocktail of emotions churning in my stomach. From his threats in the cave to Sylvester’s strange attitude, and now this… I’m overflowing with frustration from the entire male species.
I’m pretty sure women can live just fine without them, yet here they are, still plaguing Earth like cockroaches. A definite hiccup in evolution.
“Learn anything valuable about lighthouses? Anything that might actually help us?”
Us. There is no us. There's only him and me. No we. No unit or team. No partners or even someone to trust. We only became one person for a night. Now it’s he and I. That's it.
I cross my arms. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
He hums deep in his chest. It might as well be a tornado alarm.
“Is that because you want to get off this island alone?” he questions lightly, though there’s a hint of darkness in his tone that’s unmistakable.
I turn away from him, fully prepared to put myself in timeout and stick my nose in the corner just so I don’t have to look at him anymore.
Kevin used to get me in trouble all the time, and that was always my mother's solution. Nose in the corner. I was tired of looking at cracked white paint, so one day, I decided to stick my nose between the walls so hard I nearly broke it. I told my mother it had attacked me and that timeouts were too dangerous. So her solution was to make me stand outside on the front porch, facing the little playground set they bought for Kev. She said now the walls couldn't hurt me anymore.
Just the sight of watching my brother play without me. Free of sin.
Or at least that’s what he claimed.
And what Mom always believed because I accepted punishments for his wrongdoings in silence.
So, why stay quiet now?
“I don’t care what happens to you,” I mutter beneath my breath.
I only manage one more step when suddenly a hand is roughly gripping my curls and spinning me back around. A gasp leaves my tongue, and my heart bottoms out when I come face-to-face with two fierce hazel eyes. That dark spot in his right iris is sprouting, turning it nearly black.
He steps into my personal space and bares his teeth, tightening his grip on my hair until my skull is laced with pain.
“You’ve made that clear, baby, and it’s so fucking unfortunate for you that I care about what happens to you.”
I push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge, and I’m breathless as I bite out, “Why the fuck would you care?”
He leans in impossibly closer, a cyclone of electricity forming in the room. Every time his skin slides against mine, a storm cloud swells, and lightning strikes somewhere around the world.
How many others have shipwrecked because he can't stop touching me?
“Because I want to see you suffer. And I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. If that means keeping you alive just so I can tear you down, so be it.”
Then, he harshly pushes me away, causing me to stumble and land right on my ass, a harsh breath forced from my lungs.
“Asshole,” I wheeze, tears stinging the backs of my eyes while a shooting pain races up my spine.
God, I can’t fucking stand him.
Once again, he ignores me. Instead, returning to sit on the bed, leaning back against the stone wall with his feet crossed, skimming over the lighthouse book as if he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world.
But last time I checked, I've been ruining lives far longer than him.