Page 208 of The Doll and The Domination

“It’s a scratch,” he brushes me off but then catches the way I’m looking at him. The way I’m beating myself up internally over this. “Ruth?”

“I hate myself,” I mutter while shaking my head.

Don’t you dare cry again. Don’t!

“Talk to me,” he rasps, still a little out of breath.

“You shouldn’t have had to carry me.” My chest roasts with self-loathing. How am I supposed to live my life needing this much help? All I’ve ever wanted was to be of use to our family. To be able to fight. To run faster than the others. To do something. ANYTHING!

Warrose surprises me by smiling wide.

“What?” I try not to take offense to his satisfaction.

“Baby girl, I would have carried you in perfect health.”

My eyes turn round and glossy. No more crying. I am not weak. From now on, I’m going to put on a strong face. It’s the least I can do.

“You mean it?”

He nods with that same smile that makes my skin tingle. I bite down to keep the tears from rushing to my eyes.

“Why are you making that face?”

“I’m trying not to cry.” My voice comes out in a squeak.

He laughs, rough and beautiful. “It’s okay to cry, Ruth.”

“Not anymore,” I explain. “Not for me. I can’t let myself fall apart again.”

He lifts his chin, looks off to the prisoners scurrying across the heating metal.

“Then when this is all over, I’ll take you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can finally let yourself fall to pieces, okay?”

I blow out a strained breath. “You won’t want me in pieces, I can promise you that.”

“Oh, yes I will.” He touches the tip of his nose to mine. “I’ll just have to mix my pieces with yours. We’ll make a beautiful puzzle.”

56. Pyrophobia

Marilynn

“It’s a real bad sign if the stadium is spinning, isn’t it?”

“Shit,” Dessin says through an exhale. “It isn’t good, Niles.”

I have no doubt Dessin will get across that plank unscathed. Warrose just put on a show for everyone with how quickly he was able to maneuver every obstacle that was meant to throw him into the pit of heat. And we all know Dessin is better.

“Why do you say my name like it’s a dirty word?” Niles pokes Dessin in the side.

I try to hide my smile from both of them. It isn’t the time for Niles’s poorly-timed humor to surface, but it’s too funny not to enjoy.

“Because the name gives me a spike in cortisol levels. And it sours my stomach,” Dessin replies, preoccupied with watching the line disappear across the stage.

“But why?”

“Niles, stop.” I laugh into my hand.

“No.” He looks down at me with betrayal creasing his brow. “You’re pretty.”

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