Page 15 of Pure Vengeance

“Now you hurt yourself again.” He sighs, pushing off the door frame. “Come here.” He offers his hand to me.

I stare at it like it’s a rattlesnake ready to bite me.

“Claire. I hate repeating myself. Now. Come. Here.” He wiggles his fingers at me, beckoning me to listen to him.

Over my dead body.

I limp over to him, but I ignore his hand.

“Stubborn woman.” He shakes his head. “Up on the counter.” He pats the marble countertop.

I press my ass against the edge, managing to hide the discomfort that causes, but when I grip the countertop so I can hoist myself up, I wince at the pain it brings my knuckles.

“Stop,” he orders, gripping my hips and lifting me off the ground, plopping me on the countertop hard enough I yelp.

I wiggle my ass so I can scoot back, ignoring the discomfort the material of my dress rubbing against my sore ass brings.

He lifts my leg until he can get a good look at my foot. His rough fingertips trail along my ankle, inspecting the little tattoo there before moving to my foot. A sweet tingle lingers where his fingers were.

“You’re not bleeding through the bandage, so I’ll assume you haven’t caused any more damage with your childish behavior.” He checks the Band-Aid to be sure it’s still secure, then puts my leg back down.

He steps closer to me, pushing my legs open until he’s standing between them.

I press my hands down over my skirt, keeping it from riding too high up my thighs.

“The doctor said you have to keep the bandages on your hands until tomorrow.” He lifts one hand, inspecting the wrapping the doctor did around my knuckles.

“Yes.” I try to pull away, but he gives me a sharp look that suggests I stop struggling.

“He also said you need to take medicine every day.” He pulls a pill bottle from his pocket. “Here it is.” He pops it open and pours out one tablet before screwing the lid back on.

I watch him as he leans around me to the sink and fills a small plastic cup with water.

“Take it.” He offers the pill to me.

“How’d you get these so fast?” I ask, taking the tablet from his palm.

“Your car is parked in my garage. I have your purse, your wallet, your phone, and your medication.” He puts the bottle back in his pocket. “Take it.” He nudges his chin at me.

For a moment I think about fighting him on it. If I don’t take it today, or tomorrow, I’ll get a debilitating migraine soon. And if I can manage not to take it even after that, he’ll be forced to take me to the hospital. It’s happened before. It’s horrible, but if it gets me out of this house, the blinding pain will be worth it.

Or he’ll just ignore how sick I’ve become and leave me to wallow in my own misery.

“If you don’t take it, I’ll have to force you to, Claire. And I think you’ve learned already that I’m not a gentle man.”

He’s right. I toss the pill back and down the water, swallowing it.

“Good girl,” he says, taking the cup from me and tossing it in the little trash can in the corner.

“I won’t try again,” I tell him.

“Try what?” He cocks his head.

“Try to kill you. I obviously don’t have it in me, so you can let me go. I won’t try again.” I’m not sure when this decision was made, and I’m not even sure if I’m lying to him or not. What I do know, is I want to go home.

Away from him.

Away for those dark eyes of his that make my stomach flutter when he’s nearby.

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