Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)(45)

Her brows scrunched together, lips parted with a slight tremble and her eyes… haunted and uncertain.

Then she chose.

She crawled off the bed and slipped to her knees. A submissive position. One London would never do, but Raven would. She had to. It had been her survival.

I’d always come for her, but I’d always walked away too.

Her loft. Mexico. The auction. And then at the warehouse when I killed Jacob and she begged me not to leave her.

I’d left her with nothing of me to trust.

I sighed, uncrossing my legs. Fuck, this was going to be hell for both of us. “Come here.”

She came to her feet to do my bidding and walked toward me then knelt. But she didn’t stop there. Her hands went to my crotch.

Fuck.

I grabbed her wrist and I wasn’t gentle about it as I yanked her hand away, disgust tearing through me. I twisted it slightly so she was forced to shuffle back to alleviate the pressure and only then did I let her go. I knew nothing about therapy, talking bullshit in a room with art hanging on the walls that were supposed to have some underlying meaning other than blobs of colors.

What I did know was how to kill. Break. Destroy. And do it with a smile. That was what I was going to do to Raven. Kill her. And she was going to resist. She was going to hate me taking away her safety.

She ran from home because she was unable to live in that world again. She knew how to be a slave. She knew how to be Raven and being Raven allowed her to avoid facing what happened.

“Never do that again. I have rules and you break any of them I will make you lie in a bathtub of ice water until you’re so f*ckin’ cold you can barely breathe.” The threat had to be real. Something I could do if she did it again, because I wouldn’t lie to her.

She had to understand that every word out of my mouth was real.

London… no, Raven, she wasn’t London yet, sat back on her heels, but a fresh tear escaped her right eye and trailed a path down her cheek. A path because she was filthy and smelled like trash and required a shitload of soap.

I leaned back in my chair. “You’re good at following rules.” Well, she was now. She didn’t used to be. She had refused to sleep naked. “You just heard the first one. Repeat it to me.”

“Don’t touch you?” Her voice trembled and, if I’d been blind and didn’t know London was kneeling in front of me, I wouldn’t have recognized her.

“Good. Second rule, I ask you something, I want an answer.”

She nodded.

“No, repeat what I just said. I want no misunderstanding here.”

“Answer you.”

Good enough. The leather crackled as I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “And you will never kneel or avoid looking at me again.”

Her breath quickened and her hands lying flat on her thighs twitched. She was debating what to do. Whether to get off her knees now or wait until I told her to. I needed her to think for herself. She was no longer a slave to do what she was told. She had to make her own decisions, even if she thought the consequences were bad.

Eventually, she’d learn the consequences would never be bad, unless she was Raven. This was what she understood—rules. And I’d use them to find London buried underneath Raven.

Her lips quivered and brows lowered as she contemplated.

I waited. Patient.

Then she put her hands on the floor and pushed up and stood. It took longer for her chin to rise and her eyes to meet mine. But she did it and the second she did, I saw the flash of fear over what would happen because she had made eye contact. Then her eyes went dead again.

I nodded with approval. She repeated my words, her eyes staring at me, but she wasn’t seeing. Not really. It was a mask. I’d done it myself when I had to take my mind away from the pain that was inflicted on me at the farm.

“Bathroom is over there.” I gestured to the left with my hand and she flinched. Jesus, that pissed me off. How many times had Alfonzo or Jacob raised their hand and hit her? “Go shower. There are clothes next to the sink. Come out to the kitchen when you’re done and eat something.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. She’d do everything I told her to.

I stood, brushed by her and left the room.

It had only been eight minutes since I left her before she was walking barefoot across my hardwood floors into the kitchen.

I stood facing the stove, stirring the vegetable beef soup in the cast iron pot, the steam and aroma rising up in front of me.

I refused to direct her on what to do. This was a learning curve for me, too. I was pretty f*ckin’ sure her normal move would be to kneel on the floor, probably by the doorway. But my rule was blaring in her head.

I swear I heard her heart thumping hard against her chest a few feet behind me as she again had to decide what the next step was. For all I knew, she’d just stand there until I addressed her, but she’d have to wait a f*ck of a long time. I’d make her stand there all night if I had to.

I ladled the soup into two bowls then carried them over to the bar stools at the island which was a mere inch from where she stood. The scent of the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with the soup.

I pulled out both seats then sat.

Ask me, London. Fuck.

It was a simple test. I knew she was watching me and from the corner of my eye, I saw her bite her lower lip and her eyes waver to the stool, to the bowl of soup, and back to me.