Page 70 of Lovers Fate

I don’t hate him because he saved me, but I hate the way he makes me feel. Out of control. It makes me want and hate him all at the same time. Is everyone fucked up in this town?

“I’m the one that should be upset,” he says in a deep voice, hating the way he can catch up to me in a couple of strides. “I’m worn out and want to get some sleep. You made me run after you, slice a man’s throat who planned on kidnapping you, and now I have to take another shower.”

We make it to the driveway in silence, and it’s then I start to feel the guilt of what could have happened because of my own stupidity. He did save me, and I at least owe him my gratitude.

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

He sighs and pauses just inside the door, giving me his back. “Next time, listen to me.” He turns his head to the side. “Go upstairs; there are some clothes you can change into in the left top drawer of the dresser closest to the bathroom.”

“Is there anything else, Your Highness?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a sexy smirk. “I eat pussy in the morning before taking my morning coffee. I prefer black.”

I snort. “Yeah, and I like men to talk to me like I’m a human being and not some sex toy they want to play with.”

“Kinda tough with your crowd.”

I stomp my way up the stairs, hating that I have no choice but to go back to his room and change.

I storm into the bathroom, stripping off my clothes, turning on the shower’s water, stepping under the spray, shutting theglass door, and watching the steam coat the glass. My hands shake when I push the top of the soap dispenser and lather my hands with shower gel.

After I wash myself, I close my eyes and let the tears mix with the water running down my face.

The door to the shower swings open and I jolt. My eyes pop open, and Draco steps in stark naked.

I don’t look down. I don’t look at his body, afraid of the way my own will react. I should turn around and tell him to leave. I should turn around, but I don’t. My shoulders sag in defeat as he watches me. The pad of his thumb caresses my cheek.

“Don’t leave like that again,” he says softly.

I turn my face, but he cups my jaw firmly in his grip, keeping me still.

“It was stupid and reckless,” I admit.

But he surprises me with an apology. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

I stare at the black marbled wall with gold flecks, trying to process his words and the fact that he killed someone. None of it would have happened if I had stayed. I could have gone to a different room.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” I say softly, but do I?

He could have done the same and left me out there with my throat slit, but he did not.

He turns around, giving me time to think. I watch him wash himself, the soap sliding off his perfect body. He has a tattoo on the back of his neck that reads, BORN TO SIN.

When he turns around, his pitch-black eyes meet mine, the dark water dripping like tears from the leftover makeup running under his eyes.

“Do you always wear makeup?” I ask.

“Most of the time. What’s a circus without clowns wearing makeup?”

“No circus.”

His eyes drop to my lips, making me feel things I shouldn’t feel, but my heart beats like I’m running. I sweat like I’m under the hot sun. My nipples are hard like I’m cold. I’m wet between my legs, ready to have sex.

He could do anything to me if he says the right words, and we both know it. It’s why he says the things he does to push me away.

At first, I thought it was because he wasn’t attracted to me, but it’s not that. I can see the hate in his eyes. He hates himself.

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