Page 17 of Love's Ace

He looked me over again, and I hated the way it made me feel. It was like he was trying to peel back layers of my skin to see the person beneath, and I didn’t know if he was doing it so he could figure out the best way to break me, or if he actually wanted to understand why I’d asked the question.

“Okay.” I turned back to my food and kept eating, absolutely pissed with myself because I’d slowed down so he would stop staring at me with those judgmental eyes while I did. I hadn’t had to worry about table manners since… Fuck, since I was a kid.And even then… “Are you just going to keep staring at me, or are you going to eat too?” I finally snapped, taking a sip of coffee that was still too hot on my tongue. At least the burn gave me something to focus on thatwasn’tthe heat of Wren’s stare.

He didn’t say anything, but he did pick up his fork and go back to his steak.

It was better than nothing.

But this was all still… odd. I could feel the tension running between us just as much as I could see that red line, and it was almost as infuriating. I wanted to get up, to leave the building. I was tempted to do just that, but then I remembered the choking, strangling feeling that overwhelmed me the second he’d walked out the door.

I remembered the burn before he’d found me.

I didn’t know if it was possible to hate a person more because of the things they’d shown you, but I was ready to say it was. Idespisedhim for the world of possibility he’d opened up, only to let me know with unwavering certainty that he would rather have seen me dead than let me experience it.

He thought I was a monster.

I hated him because even a fucking cupid could see me for exactly what I was.

Suddenly, the food that I’d been inhaling like it would be my last meal felt sour in my stomach. I sat my fork on the table and frowned.

“What?” How did he notice the instant my mood changed? Was it the line between us? Could he read it more than I could? All I was getting from him was a wall of irritation. Overwhelming irritation and a desire to be anywhere other than here. I couldn’t feel anything else.

It was like he was doing it on purpose. Like he didn’t want me to sense him, to feel anything other than that he wished I hadn’t followed him. That I didn’texist.

“I can go,” I growled and pushed up from the table. I felt the coolness of his fingers wrap around my wrist before I realized he’d moved. It sent that same streak of calm through me that made me want to leave even more.

It wasn’t fair.

He couldn’t touch me.

Hecouldn’tmake me feel like the world around me wasn’t breaking and still look at me like he wanted to flay me alive.

“Stop it,” I hissed between clenched teeth.

“Stop what?”

“Touching me.”

His fingers on my wrist spasmed at my words, but he didn’t let me go.

“Don’t leave.” When I just stared at him, he added, “I don’t know what you’ll do out there without me. I don’t know if you’ll run into those men again.”

Monster. He wasn’t saying the word outright, but that was the only reason he wanted me to stay. Not because he felt anything when he touched me, but because it was easier to keep me controlled if he kept me close.

“Let me go, Wren.”

His fingers spasmed again, and he glanced down to where they encircled my wrist tight enough that it felt like we might fuse… Or maybe it was just the coolness of him pressing into me, flooding up my arm so each breath of air I took felt like something new, something that wanted to travel through my veins and make me…

What?

Make me pure?

Make me clean?

Make mefeel…

Fuck, I didn’t want tofeel. Every time I did, every time I tried, it broke me.

“Wren.” I said it again, and fuck me, but my voice was trembling. I didn’tletpeople touch me. I didn’tlikeit when people touched me, and this was worse—this was so much worse—because even the angry strength of his fingers threatened to turn my entire world on its head. I wanted to tear his fucking arm off. “Let mego.” My voice was shaking—mybodywas shaking. “Let me go,please.”

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