Page 25 of The Girl and the Cobra

But… but I do want to.

I study her. Her blond hair is a little messy, its kinks uneven, halfway between straight and curly. She wears jeans and an oversized sweater—although practically anything she wears would be considered oversized since she’s on the small side of the scale.

Too small, really. Like she doesn’t quite eat enough. Like she’s starving herself.

Her face appears sad, and I take that to mean she had a session with Wolf—I’d know. Anytime I talk to the guy he eitherpisses me off or says something that makes me wonder if I’ve ever made a single good choice in my life.

“I take it you met with Wolf,” I say, causing her eyes to move from the TV and land on me.

The smile she gives me in response is laced with sadness, not a true smile but one that lures me in all the same. “Is it that obvious?” she asks with a sigh. Her slender fingers fiddle with the bottom hem of her sweater.

“Wolf can be… blunt sometimes. Harsh. He likes talking about things that aren’t easy.”

“I can see that.” Now it’s Mabel’s turn to scrutinize me. Her gaze rakes over my figure, taking in how I sit, how I’m slightly leaning towards her. The thing that catches her gaze and holds it is the collar on my neck. “What is that?” She points to her own neck in reference, in case I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Nothing.” I lean back on the couch and pull up the neckline of my shirt to hide it a bit better.

Mabel doesn’t want to drop it, probably just so the conversation can move beyond her session with Wolf. “You’re wearing it every time I see you. Do you ever take it off?”

A heavy breath escapes me. The girl already knows more about me than most. She knows I’m violent, that I’ve killed. I suppose there wouldn’t be much harm in telling her the truth about this. Maybe it’d make things difficult with Wolf—and I’m all for that. Fuck that guy.

“No,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

“You can’t? What do you mean?” She must think it’s some kind of joke, but as she watches my reaction, it dawns on her that I’m not kidding in any way. “Oh, you’re serious. Why can’t you take it off?”

I try to think of the best way to put it. “I’m not allowed to leave the property. It keeps me here.”

Mabel’s brows crease, and she tries to put it together. “It keeps you here? Like… a dog collar?” Just the way she says that last part, so incredulous, tells me she doesn’t quite believe it. She should, though, considering I’m a violent offender.

The only thing I do is shrug.

Her voice comes out hesitant, “Can I… can I look at it?”

Out of everything she could’ve said, that’s not something I was expecting, so it takes me a while to nod. Mabel scoots closer to me, closing the distance between us like it’s nothing, like she’s comfortable being close to me.

At first, I angle my head away. I’m not a man who feels shame in any capacity, but being near Mabel puts weird thoughts in my head and strange emotions in my black heart.

Fuck. I can smell her again. Why the fuck does she smell so good? It should be illegal.

But then she leans in even closer to me to inspect the collar around my neck, and something invisible tugs at me. My eyes flick down. With the angle of my neck and how close she is to me, I can barely see how intently she studies the collar. My hands clench into fists on my lap—the only thing I can do to stop myself from touching her. My chest rises and falls with breaths that turn heavy, almost ragged.

If I thought being close to her was torture, it’s nothing compared to the moment when she lifts a hand and lightly touches the collar. In doing so the tips of her fingers brush against the bare skin of my neck, and I barely resist the shudder her touch elicits from me.

I shouldn’t let her get this close. I shouldn’t let her look at the collar. But this girl… she sees past the scars on my skin, past the collar and the horrific truth of what I’ve done. She sees me as a person, which most don’t. Most just see the Cobra now when they look at me.

Maniacal. Evil. Treacherous. A traitor not only to the Black Hand but to his own family. I was moved here to live out the rest of my life under Wolf’s supervision. I didn’t think… I never thought someone like Mabel would find herself in the same place.

And I never thought I’d want her, not when the only person I ever wanted was the one person I couldn’t have.

Mabel is attainable. So close. I’ve never wanted the attainable before—and fuck, do I want her. I want her more than logic should allow. She’s just a normal girl working through some issues; she’s nowhere near my level of fucked up.

“Does it shock you?” Mabel asks in a whisper.

I fear my voice will not work if I try to speak, so I settle for nodding. Her hand no longer touches the collar, therefore she doesn’t touch my neck anymore, but she hasn’t scooted away. She sits beside me, mere inches between us, and she acts totally unconcerned about being this close to a killer.

“Wow,” she murmurs. “I was wondering how you were here, and not in prison. I guess that’s one way to keep you here. Your family must have a lot of money or something. You really can’t take it off?”

I shake my head again. “No. It… shocks me if I try.”

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