Page 56 of Scorch

Ping.

“What was that crash? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Me? You don’t know? Haven't you recorded the bathroom?”

“Of course not. You can have some measure of privacy.”

“Oh, that is rich coming from you,” I tell him. “Jesus, Viktor.” I pick up my phone from the floor. “You tracked my phone.”

He has the nerve to shrug. “I never pretended I wasn't tracking you. Of course I am. How the fuck am I supposed to keep you safe?”

“So, smothering me, keeping me immediately by your side, marrying me, and not letting me out of your sight isn't good enough?”

He scowls. Of course it isn't.

“You were trying to break your new phone?”

“Yeah. It didn't work. What did you get me, some military-grade whatever?”

“Yes.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Jesus Christ! I was exaggerating. I didn't think you actually did that!”

“Of course I did. You just threw your phone out the window, remember? I knew the chances of you losing your temper and destroying it were pretty high.”

“I wasn’t the one who did that!” I snap.

He shakes his head. “What if you had something important on that phone? Somebody throws this phone out a window, at least you get to keep your pictures or whatever else you have on your phone.”

“You’re snooping on me!”

“I have no interest in snooping on you, but I do want to know where you are at all times. And that is never, ever going to change.” His frown deepens. “So you better get used to that.”

“You better get used to that,” I mimic, my hands on my hips. He takes a step toward me as if to intimidate me, but I’m unfazed. I'm starting to think that Viktor couldn't hurt me if he tried.

“Don't mock me,” he snaps. “God, you're such a brat.”

Fury claws at my chest, an angry, untamed beast. My voice shakes with the effort of controlling it. “I'm not a brat. A brat acts out over stupid things. I don't lie down and let people tell me what to do. Those are two very, very different things, Mr. Romanov.”

He's in my space, his breath tickling my hair. I'm breathing heavier, and so is he. He loves fighting with me. I love getting a rise out of him. We’re a match to tinder.

When he doesn’t respond, I try to drive the memo home. “Get this through your head. I'm someone who doesn't like to be told what to do.”

“Oh, I am well aware,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

His eyes darken as he steps even closer, crowding my space until I’m forced to back up against the sink. “You think you can push me, and there won’t be consequences?” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, sending a shiver down my spine.

I lift my chin defiantly. “You don’t scare me, Viktor.”

A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. “Oh, I think I do. But it’s not fear I see in your eyes right now, is it?” He leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “You like this, don’t you? The challenge, the danger. It excites you. It’s like that first strike of a lighter. You can already smell the flames.”

I try to hide my reaction, but I can feel my heart racing. He’s too close, too perceptive, too in my head. “You’re wrong,” I whisper, but my voice lacks conviction.

His hand snakes around my neck, firm but not painful, forcing me to look into his intense gaze. My heart turns in my chest. “Lying to yourself won’t help you, Lydia. I know you better than you know yourself.” His thumb strokes the side of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver through me. “You want someone who can match you, who can handle your fire. Someone like me.”

I try to twist away, but his grip tightens just enough to hold me in place. “Let go of me, Viktor,” I demand, my voice shaking.

“Not until you admit the truth,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “Admit that you feel something for me, something more than just hate.”

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