Page 49 of Ruined Wolfsbane

He gives my throat a warning squeeze when I don’t immediately look up at him. My eyes snap to his.

“Are you incapable of following directions? Or is it just me you ignore?” Malachi hisses as he leans down until we’re nose to nose.

My eyebrows raise at his irritated tone, and my anger quickly follows. “I can follow directions just fine. I can also choose where I sit. Just. Fucking. Fine.”

As I enunciate my response, Malachi’s hand flexes on my throat. He squeezes hard enough I won’t forget where his hand is but not enough to cut off my airway. “I have yet to see you following any directions without protest. Why does every goddamn thing have to be a fight with you?” Malachi’s voice rises as he demands an answer.

“I’m the problem?” I ask incredulously, my volume increasing to match his. “Have you tried, I don’t know, not ordering me around every other sentence!” Yelling at him probably isn’t the most mature way to handle this, but it sure is satisfying to take my pent-up frustration out on him.

“I don’t order you around all the time!”

“You do!” I respond like a petulant child, continuing to handle things like the mature adult I’m not.

“I don’t!” he shouts at me in exasperation. Malachi visibly tries to collect himself before continuing. “Why can’t you just listen to me? It’s like you want to fight! Why pick a fight with me tonight?”

“Because I’m scared!” I scream at him and instantly regret it. I close my eyes and thump my head against the wall behind me. Letting my anger loose also let other emotions creep out when I wasn’t paying attention. In my emotional response, I revealed way more than I wanted to.

I’m not ready for anyone to see the fear that lives inside me. The fear that’s my constant companion. The fear that makes it hard to breathe through the stranglehold it has on my chest. I fucking hate Patrick for turning me into this weak, useless creature who can’t think straight through the fear. I’m supposed to be stronger than this. Ava needs me to be stronger than this.

“Of what?” Malachi asks softly, causing my eyes to pop open. I watch the anger and frustration drain out of his expression, replaced with something infinitely worse. Pity.

“Dying,” I croak.

“Why?”

“Patrick,” I grit out, barely able to force the words past the sudden rage choking me. Rage at the unfairness of it all. The unfairness that Patrick gets away with what he does to me. The unfairness that I might not make it to my twenty-first birthday. The unfairness that everyone else gets to plan for their future. Unlike them, I have to plan for Ava’s future to ensure she’ll be fine when I’m gone.

How the fuck is this fair? I want to scream to the universe. But I already know the answer. It isn’t fair. I know better than anyone that life’s rarely fair.

“Briar…” Malachi starts, shaking me out of my internal pity party.

“I don’t need your pity,” I growl at him. I can’t decide who I’m angrier at—him for pitying me or myself for being pathetic enough to earn his pity.

I need to buck the hell up and stop complaining. My whining isn’t going to change anything. All it does is make me sick of myself. Gritting my teeth, I mentally shove my thoughts about not wanting to die into the farthest corner of my mind.

“Good thing I’m not pitying you,” he rumbles back at me.

I scoff in disbelief.

Malachi squeezes my throat gently in warning. I wish he’d stop doing that. Each time his hand flexes on my neck, liquid heat pools low in my stomach. I know I shouldn’t be getting turned on by it, yet here I am.

I clearly have fucked survival instincts if this is what gets me going.

Christ. My own emotions are giving me whiplash. I can’t decide if I’m angry, scared, horny, or all three at the same time. “Can you stop grabbing my throat?” I ask, trying and failing to keep my voice steady. It comes out breathy instead.

“Why?” Malachi probes.

I groan. I walked right into that one. No way in hell am I telling him it’s because it turns me on. Instead, I press my lips into a thin line and look away.

Malachi tightens his hand around my throat to get me to look back at him. An embarrassing little gasp escapes past my lips. My cheeks flame as my eyes bounce back to his. Whatever he sees in my gaze has a slow smile spreading across his face.

He applies a little more pressure to the front of my neck, and I involuntarily moan. Malachi chuckles softly, the sound oozing masculine satisfaction. “You like it, don’t you, baby girl?”

I grind my teeth together, frustrated that I’m so transparent. Here I thought I was a master of stealth and deception. Apparently, I can’t keep a secret from anyone. Not seeing any point in lying, I give him a jerky nod.

“Mm, that’s good to know,” he rasps. His low, husky voice sends a shiver snaking up my spine.

Malachi flicks his gaze between my eyes a few times before continuing. “As I was saying, I don’t pity you. You, Briar Wylder, are one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. I could never pity you. I will, however, make sure that fucker doesn’t get a chance to hurt you again.”

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