His breath scattered over my lips as he dragged me the final distance.
My eyes fluttered to half mast, entirely drunk and willing and wanting and waiting and—
“Shit.” Elder stumbled, pushing me away so I wouldn’t trip with him. His face etched in feral need, waging with anger at the interruption.
His head whipped to the side just in time to see the dog on the piece of string barrel down the road with the kid in tow. He must’ve run into us, locked unmovable in the street.
As suddenly as the moment had happened, it ended.
Elder wrenched his hands from me.
I sucked in a ragged breath, unable to control the leaping lemmings that’d replaced my blood.
What the hell was that?
And what would’ve happened if the dog hadn’t run into us? Would we have kissed? Would we have lost ourselves in the middle of a congested country where public displays of affection were a criminal offence?
Spinning on his heel, Elder clamped both hands on his head, staring at the sun. With his back to me, I didn’t catch what he said, but his curse curdled the perfumed air with untold frustration.
While away from the intensity of his stare, I wiped my lips, flinching at how sensitive they were. Dropping my hands down my front—trying to get myself under control—I shivered as my nipples tingled against the dress.
The foreign wetness remained slick on my inner thigh. Not wearing underwear made what’d happened unmistakable. A rainbow of pride filled me that even after two years of abuse, after promising I would never tolerate sex or lust, my body had found a way to heal just enough to accept a kiss.
From Elder at least.
I picked at the scabs in my mind from everything Alrik had done, hoping to see if perhaps, one day, I could tolerate more than just a kiss from a man who hopefully might earn my trust. But the minute I thought of naked bodies and entwined thrusting, a cold sweat drenched me; a panic attack snaked through my desire, turning it into rancid sickness.
I gulped at the suddenness of how something so desirable could turn into something horrific.
Elder spun around, dropping his hands. “I didn’t mean—” His arm came up.
All I saw was pain. I cringed, taking a step back.
He stiffened, looking from his me to his arm. Accusation and disappointment replaced whatever attraction remained in his eyes. “I wasn’t going to hit you.” His nostrils flared. “Fuck, what the hell happened between us? You fell, I caught you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you I was doing my best around you, Pim, but Christ you felt good in my arms.”
A swarm of locals cascaded around us like a swiftly flowing river around a boulder in its path.
Elder didn’t notice. “You didn’t fight me.” His voice lowered. “You responded. You wanted me to kiss you. Are you going to stand there and fucking deny it?”
I looked down, rubbing my arm as prickles raced over my skin.
“You wanted me, yet now you look as if I was about to bloody rape you. You’re still afraid I’ll hurt you, even now?”
I couldn’t fill my lungs. My heart tightened itself in a rusty metal thumbscrew, making me hiss in pain.
I’m afraid of myself.
Of what irreparable damage that bastard did to my body.
His head lowered, blocking the sun and casting heavy shade over me. The symbolism of standing in the shadows wasn’t lost on me. I’d been in the shadows for years. How the hell did I think I could live in the sunshine without getting burned?
“Goddammit, you frustrate me.” Glowering as if he’d expected better from me—as if he could snap his fingers and have me sing for him and kiss him and be cured by him—he dragged a hand through his hair and stormed off.
ONE WORD.
Fuck.
Two words.
Motherfucking Christ.
Three words.
I’m fucking screwed.
THE DUST EDDIES left by his shoes captured my attention.
He left.
He stormed away without Selix to watch me, guards to corral me, or leashes to hold me.
The chemistry between us snapped away—partly buried by the brutal history I couldn’t shake but mainly due to the freedom that suddenly opened up all around me.
I’m alone.
My heart looked up with binoculars.
I could run.
My lungs shed its sticky fear, demanding oxygen, feeding my legs in preparation of a sprint.
I could vanish.
I could hide.
I should run in the opposite direction.
My eyes locked on Elder as he continued to stalk away. He didn’t look back. Did he want me to run? Was this a test? If I did run, would he chase me? And if he did chase me, how far would I get thanks to my battered body and ill health?
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was to attempt to flee—to create a scene, to hopefully get the police involved.
To let people know I’m still alive and ready to go home.
Beneath the scintillating idea of running, guilt slowly bubbled.