Jaz held her breath, feeling his eyes penetrating through the wall and onto her back. I despise you, she thought. She didn’t know how but she knew it was him. At that moment, she hated the very air he breathed.
Though she was scared, she allowed the rage to sweep over her and take control of her limbs. She clasped the shard of mirror in her hand, the small towel wrapped around her palm twice to protect it. Within half a second she tore out of the tiny en suite. Her head nearly smacked into his elbow as he moved with surprise. She almost made it to the door before he grabbed her by the shoulder. She lashed out, slicing the top of his arm.
He gasped and jumped back towards the bathroom archway in amazement. “What the-?” he groaned, clutching his bleeding arm, just as she held up the shard ready to gouge his face. He reacted swiftly, locking his bloody hand around her wrist, then grabbed her other flailing arm with his left hand. The gash to the upper arm smarted as she whacked her limb against it. With one motion he swung her around and pinned her against the wall between the door and the end of the bed.
She gasped as her spine slapped against the rock wall. The pain in her back made her wince, but she wouldn’t let go of the mirror shard even now that the hand towel had unravelled and fallen to the floor mid-scuffle.
“Let go,” Driver commanded.
“No!” she barked.
The muscles around his eyes tightened.
She tried to slice at him again but his grip was solid. She then squirmed, kicking out. He stood back. She kicked at air.
“Let. Go.” The warning was ominous in his deep voice.
She didn’t respond but didn’t let go.
He fixed his eyes on her and slowly squeezed the wrist of her hand that clasped the shard. His grip was at first uncomfortable, then painful, then excruciating. Her hold tightened around the shard in response. The glass cutting into her flesh and his iron grip was too much for her and she cried out.
When he saw the blood trickle down her palm he loosened his grasp a little. At the same time she let go of the mirror shard and it fell to the floor, smashing like a glass raindrop.
They stared at each other.
Driver still held her there though he reined in the strength of his grip, sure that he'd already hurt her enough. He saw tears begin to trail down her hard face as she glared at him. As he watched her, his mind was shaken with a cocktail of emotions: surprise, shock, guilt, anger, disbelief.
He stared at her bloody hand. How can she be so stubborn and let that happen? Is she crazy?
He glanced at her heaving chest and heard her hammering heart. I’ve hurt her, she’ll never forgive me.
The pain in his arm escalated. He growled inwardly, So what? The bitch cut you up!
I deserve it, thought his forgiving side.
Oh grow a pair, he shot back.
Jaz's fierce eyes regarded him stubbornly and he stared down at her.
His lustful side thought, Man, she’s beautiful when she’s all wild and fiery.
His frown hardened. Shut the hell up!
Jaz saw his face change but she didn’t try to understand why he was looking at her so strangely. She didn’t want to understand him, or know him. Period.
“We better get that looked at,” he began in a low, soothing voice, focusing on her slashed palm.
She wanted to scream at him. Instead her words came out slow and shaky. “You fed me raw meat.” She was on the edge of losing control.
He blinked, then gently lowered her wounded hand by her side, but he still didn’t let go. “I didn’t make you eat it,” he replied. It was true in the physical sense, but he had known that the moment she smelt the raw meat she’d have had no choice.
“You knew,” she said. “Somehow you knew I wouldn’t be able to-to… not eat it. I don’t know what you did, but I couldn’t… “
“Stop?”
She shot him a venomous look though a glimmer of fear shone across her eyes.
He bobbed his head in understanding. She was beginning to see the truth. It didn't please him to see her like this, but he felt a sense of relief at her confession.
He could see her shivering but didn’t make any attempt to show his concern. She would only recoil from him. He felt a sinking in his chest but somewhere deep inside, Maz’s words stuck with him: he just needed to be patient. She would trust him…in time. Right now though, it was hard to believe.
“Come in here,” he directed. He held out his arm, encouraging her to step into his room- though she didn’t know it was his. He wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that. “I have a first-aid kit in here. Let me clean your hand up before it gets infected.”
She stayed dead still.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said sincerely. He held her gaze, trying to reassure her.
He could see the retaliation glaring back at him and the challenge allured, annoyed and upset him. He stared at her and she stared back for a long, icy minute.
It had been a complicated and strange few days. Now it was about to get worse, he realized, as the sounds of familiar footsteps came speedily down the hallway. He sighed in irritation, cutting off eye contact with Jaz and scowling at a spot on the floor. He muttered under his breath as she watched his reaction.