Page 18 of Pit

“Where exactly?” I ask.

She looks past me. “In . . . in there.”

I glance back to my room. “You went in my room?”

“I didn’t look at anything,” she rushes to add. “I just needed a shirt, and you were busy outside, so I—”

“Where were the dogs?” I demand.

She visibly swallows. “In my room.”

I look around and notice they’re not on the landing, so I grab her upper arm, causing her to wince, and shove her back into her room. I fill the doorway, setting my sights on my dogs curled up on the end of Tess’s bed. “What the fuck?”

“They were crying outside your door, so I let them in my room.”

Neither have bothered to lift their lazy, traitorous heads. “Heel,” I yell, and they rush to their feet, almost knocking Tessa out the way. “Out,” I snarl, and they leave the room. I slam the door and step farther into her room. “You went in my room,” I repeat. She gives a slight nod. “Without my permission.”

“You were busy,” she almost whispers.

“And you took the opportunity to make yourself at home?”

“It’s just a shirt,” she murmurs.

“My shirt,” I snarl, and she backs away, suddenly looking uncertain. “You’re not here as a fucking guest.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” I ask, tipping my head to one side as I close the space between us. “You’re wearing my shit, comforting my dogs . . . Jesus, you’re even pleasuring yourself on my balcony like you ain’t got a worry in the world.” Her cheeks colour with embarrassment. “Take it off.”

Her eyes shoot to mine. “Huh?”

“Take. It. Off.”

“Pit,” she tries to reason, but I have a dark desire to see her just once and it makes me a dick, but I never claimed to be anything other.

“Now.” She sighs heavily before fixing me with a steely glare that makes me want to smile. She removes the shirt in one fast motion and shoves it hard against my chest. “Better,” I whisper, trailing my eyes down her naked body. She’s thinner than she should be, and I vow to feed her more while she’s here. There arebruises down her legs from her encounter in the garden and they stand out against her pale skin. “Get on the bed.”

She swallows hard and slowly drops back onto the bed, dragging herself farther up until she’s resting against the headboard. I can see her inner turmoil—she wants to grab the sheets, but her stubbornness won’t allow it. I take the armchair from the corner of the room, dragging it to the foot of the bed and taking a seat. “Why did you marry him?”

She rolls her eyes. “I thought you didn’t care about all that? Aren’t you killing me anyway, so what does it matter?”

“Call me curious.”

“It was part of the agreement,” she snaps, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

“Tell me the agreement.”

“Why?”

I smirk. “Because if you don’t, I’ll take you back to the shack outside and leave you there for the night.”

“I wanted security and stability in my life.”

“You made the agreement?”

“What’s wrong with that?” she snaps. “He gets something he wants, and I get something I need.”

She’s embarrassed, her cheeks are red, and she’s defensive. She grabs the sheet and pulls it over herself. I allow it. “What exactly was he gonna pay for your virginity?”

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