coming?”
“No. The wind sometimes stops
before the fog rolls through.”
“Are you afraid of the fog?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“What if something came out of
the fog and tore off your arm?” I ask, caressing his muscular bicep. “Would you
be afraid then or would you shrug it off?”
“You need to stop touching me.”
“You didn’t kill me when I
pushed you. Why would you kill me for gently touching you?”
“I have no control over my
instincts. When they kick in, I react,” he says, and his jaw twitches with
agitation.
“Why would they react now but
not when I attacked you?”
Quill finally smiles, and my
entire body reacts to the sight. He’s the most flawless man I’ve ever seen. His
smiling lips beg to be kissed. He needs me to show him how to feel.
“You were attacking me?” he
sneers. “I know you have violence in you, but that attempt was pathetic.”
His words lose their power
while his arm muscles spasm under my fingertips.
“Stop,” he says, glaring at me.
I stare into his eyes as my
nails lightly scratch his bare forearm. “No.”
“Do you want to die?”
“You’d kill me quickly,
wouldn’t you?”
Quill narrows his eyes and
grabs my throat with his free hand. I flinch and begin to struggle. Flashing
back to John’s hand around my throat, I fear the sensation of running out of
air. Except Quill isn’t John, and I’m not in my old life.
Regaining my composure, I reach
forward with both hands and touch his cheeks.
Shoving me to the ground, he
exhales like an angry bull. I’ve enraged him, and his anger makes me smile.
“You do feel something,” I say,
staring up at him.
“Do you want me to hate you?”
“Hate is better than nothing.
If you weren’t a robot, you’d know that, Quill.”
Leaning down, he snatches my arm
and yanks me to my feet. I don’t flinch at his rough touch. I’ve known violence,
and Quill is only trying to scare me.
“I will lock you in your room
again.”
“Okay, but you don’t want to. A
part of you is bored too. Who knows how long I’ll be around to entertain you?
Why throw away an opportunity for a distraction?”
“You overestimate your worth,”
he says, squeezing my arm until the bone threatens to snap. “My only concern is
for myself. You could die tomorrow, and I wouldn’t even bury you. I’d leave
your corpse for the wolves to clean up.”
His words cut deeply. I hear a
truth to them. Quill might hunger for comfort in the way I do, but he will
never give into the desire. He would rather let me rot than relent to any
tenderness inside him.
I step back, and Quill releases
my arm. We stare at each other, thinking very different thoughts. He resents me
for my lack of manners and self-control. I only want him to make the pain go
away.
Deep inside, I feel cold and
empty. The sensation began in my chest when I first arrived, and it’s
spreading. I don’t know how to feel alive again. The voices in the basement
promised me death would ease my pain, but I don’t want to die. Despite his
callousness, Quill needs me around for a while longer.
Moving without thinking, I walk
straight for the basement door and hurry downstairs. The voices chime in with
dozens of thoughts all at once. I can’t think with them screaming. I barely
notice Quill behind me until his angry voice breaks through the noise.
I look at him for only a moment
before swinging the bat. The cracking sound of contact between his head and the
weapon startles me. I recall how minutes earlier he told me I had no strength,
yet somehow I knocked him out with one strike.
Dropping the bat, I know what I
need to do next. If Quill was angry before I hit him, he’ll be absolutely
homicidal when he wakes up and sees what I have in mind for him.
Chapter Seventeen
Quill
I was wrong when I told Odessa I
feared nothing. Being caged terrifies me. I don’t realize this fact until I
wake from the head injury to find my wrists chained to the wall.
“No. The wind sometimes stops
before the fog rolls through.”
“Are you afraid of the fog?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
“What if something came out of
the fog and tore off your arm?” I ask, caressing his muscular bicep. “Would you
be afraid then or would you shrug it off?”
“You need to stop touching me.”
“You didn’t kill me when I
pushed you. Why would you kill me for gently touching you?”
“I have no control over my
instincts. When they kick in, I react,” he says, and his jaw twitches with
agitation.
“Why would they react now but
not when I attacked you?”
Quill finally smiles, and my
entire body reacts to the sight. He’s the most flawless man I’ve ever seen. His
smiling lips beg to be kissed. He needs me to show him how to feel.
“You were attacking me?” he
sneers. “I know you have violence in you, but that attempt was pathetic.”
His words lose their power
while his arm muscles spasm under my fingertips.
“Stop,” he says, glaring at me.
I stare into his eyes as my
nails lightly scratch his bare forearm. “No.”
“Do you want to die?”
“You’d kill me quickly,
wouldn’t you?”
Quill narrows his eyes and
grabs my throat with his free hand. I flinch and begin to struggle. Flashing
back to John’s hand around my throat, I fear the sensation of running out of
air. Except Quill isn’t John, and I’m not in my old life.
Regaining my composure, I reach
forward with both hands and touch his cheeks.
Shoving me to the ground, he
exhales like an angry bull. I’ve enraged him, and his anger makes me smile.
“You do feel something,” I say,
staring up at him.
“Do you want me to hate you?”
“Hate is better than nothing.
If you weren’t a robot, you’d know that, Quill.”
Leaning down, he snatches my arm
and yanks me to my feet. I don’t flinch at his rough touch. I’ve known violence,
and Quill is only trying to scare me.
“I will lock you in your room
again.”
“Okay, but you don’t want to. A
part of you is bored too. Who knows how long I’ll be around to entertain you?
Why throw away an opportunity for a distraction?”
“You overestimate your worth,”
he says, squeezing my arm until the bone threatens to snap. “My only concern is
for myself. You could die tomorrow, and I wouldn’t even bury you. I’d leave
your corpse for the wolves to clean up.”
His words cut deeply. I hear a
truth to them. Quill might hunger for comfort in the way I do, but he will
never give into the desire. He would rather let me rot than relent to any
tenderness inside him.
I step back, and Quill releases
my arm. We stare at each other, thinking very different thoughts. He resents me
for my lack of manners and self-control. I only want him to make the pain go
away.
Deep inside, I feel cold and
empty. The sensation began in my chest when I first arrived, and it’s
spreading. I don’t know how to feel alive again. The voices in the basement
promised me death would ease my pain, but I don’t want to die. Despite his
callousness, Quill needs me around for a while longer.
Moving without thinking, I walk
straight for the basement door and hurry downstairs. The voices chime in with
dozens of thoughts all at once. I can’t think with them screaming. I barely
notice Quill behind me until his angry voice breaks through the noise.
I look at him for only a moment
before swinging the bat. The cracking sound of contact between his head and the
weapon startles me. I recall how minutes earlier he told me I had no strength,
yet somehow I knocked him out with one strike.
Dropping the bat, I know what I
need to do next. If Quill was angry before I hit him, he’ll be absolutely
homicidal when he wakes up and sees what I have in mind for him.
Chapter Seventeen
Quill
I was wrong when I told Odessa I
feared nothing. Being caged terrifies me. I don’t realize this fact until I
wake from the head injury to find my wrists chained to the wall.
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