Echo(73)

The moment fractures when he abruptly pulls away. My hands fall from him as his clutch tightens around my face. I can feel the strain in his hands as their nerves vibrate against my cheeks. His body locks up, the corded muscles banded around his shoulders contract.

“Why?” I breathe. “Why do you turn so cold?”

He grinds his teeth, and his eyes flare disdainfully at me. “Because I don’t want to be this close to you. Because I despise you. Because you’re a scheming witch.”

His tone stabs like an ice pick, and I wonder if it will always be this way with us. If he truly is incapable of allowing himself to ever be vulnerable with me again. Maybe he’s destined to be the yearning ache of my heart.

La douleur exquise.

“Then why have me here? Why don’t you throw me out, tell me you hate me?”

“I do hate you,” he sears.

“So why touch me, kiss me, f*ck me?”

“They’re my sick cravings,” he admits. “The hunger grows worse the more I feed it.”

And the scheming witch he just accused me of being comes to life. Because with him, I want to be selfish. I want him to be mine and no one else’s.

I know I’m narcissistic when I tilt my head to the side, presenting him with the soft skin of my neck, but I don’t care when I invite him to take, saying, “Then feast.”

“You don’t want me this way.”

“I want you in every way.”

His growl is low, deep within his chest, but far from the heart that beats in deadly ways. He’s a degenerate of love, but I want him regardless.

He stands and demands, “Strip. And when I return, I want you on your knees, face down on the floor and ass up.”

And he just made me feel like I’m a child and taking orders from Carl. I watch as he walks out of the room, and I begin to question if it was a lie. If I really do want him in any way I can get him. Because right now, I want to barrel my fist into his dick for ordering me to expose myself in a humiliating position on this freezing concrete floor.

As much as I want to spit my acrid words at him, I know the derelict I am.

So I do as commanded.

I strip.

And when I walk to the center of the room, I kneel down. With my knees parted, I lower my bare chest onto the ice-cold floor, whimpering against the scathing chill that bites the tender flesh of my nipples. Stretching my arms in front of me, resting my cheek on the floor, I spread my knees wider, lift my ass in the air, and close my eyes while my heart beats wildly.

Presenting myself in degradation, I wait.

And I wait.

And I wait.

Time passes; I’m not sure how long I’ve been in this position when the muscles in my legs begin to burn and cramp. My body grows colder with each minute lost with no sign of Declan.

Shivers overtake, and when I can’t hold on to this position any longer, I let my body fall to the side. Lying here naked and mortified, I finally blink out the tears as I pull my knees into my chest and quietly weep.

Was this his plan? Was this a punishment? To shame me, knowing he wasn’t going to come back for me?

My body turns numb after a while, making it difficult to move my muscles when I attempt to pick myself up off the ground. Slowly, I pull my clothes back on while I vacillate between loneliness, resentment, sadness, and anger. All of it swarms through me, taking my energy, and depleting me to the point where I just want to disappear.

Wrapping the blanket around me, I walk into the kitchen to get a drink, and when I do, I notice a car down at the gate on the intercom monitor. The windows are darkly tinted, so that when I move closer to the black and white screen on the wall, I can’t make out the person who’s driving. But then the car starts to back up, and when it drives away, I begin to wonder about the life Declan has here in Scotland and the people he surrounds himself with, if any at all. I only know about Lachlan—that’s it. I wonder if he’s as alone as he appears to be, and who’s lurking at the gate in the middle of the night.

I don’t even stop to peek in his room as I head to bed. I’m too embarrassed.

Did he ever come back to the atrium and see me exposing my body for him?

I shake the thought away, and when I go into the bathroom, I see he’s set the bottle of pills the doctor prescribed me on the sink. I take a pill out and stare at it, wondering if I’m just like her, just like the woman who never wanted me. I wonder who the hell I am. I fear I’ll never know if I stay here in this tug of war with the man who hates me.