Page 372 of Rage

“Relax,” he says. As if that was so easy. His hand moves to my wrists, where he does something to the handcuffs. The metal bites into my skin, causing me to hiss out in pain. Then, suddenly, the right cuff pops open, and my wrist is free.

Emmett rubs the part where the metal was pinching my skin before placing my arm by my side. My shoulder is stiff, making the movement feel both painful and relieving. A moment later, my other wrist is free, and Emmett gives it the same treatment.

“You’ve had a long night, so I’m going to let you go to sleep now, but tomorrow, I’m going to strip you bare and fuck you senseless.”

“The hell you will!” I sit up, all exhaustion forgotten in a heartbeat. “You can’t just say shit like that after not talking to me for two years!” I spin around to face him, realizing he is not wearing anything besides a pair of boxers.

“You are my wife. Why shouldn’t I fuck you?”

“Because I don’t want you.”

“Are you sure about that? I remember you throwing yourself at me at?—”

I don’t let him finish. “I wanted you two years ago! I was ready then.”

“No, you were not. You were a child, molded into the image of a perfect wife by your parents. You were groomed for so long you didn’t even know how to be normal. I didn’t want a brainwashed wife. Not then, and not now.”

“Then what do you want?”

“A queen.”

Chapter Four

Gwen

Aqueen?What the hell is that supposed to mean? That’s the big question running through my mind as I sit on Emmett’s king-sized bed while he waits for me to respond.

Problem is, I don’t know what to say. His bare torso is not helping to keep my thoughts organized at all. For being in his late thirties, his body is remarkably toned. My eyes are drawn to the intricate tattoos painted across his taut skin. The artist must have drawn on him directly; the artwork is moving so perfectly with the shape of his physique.

There is a large skull on the center of his chest with a snake swirling around it and coming out of one of the eye sockets. Around it are wilted roses that are so detailed and realistic-looking that I want to run my fingers over them just to see what it feels like.

Emmett clears his throat and folds his arms over his chest.

Shit, what was the question again?

“I’m tired,” I rasp out, flustered. “I want to go to sleep now.” I get up from the bed to stand on my wobbly legs. “Where is the guest room?”

“You are sleeping here… with me… inourbed.” I open my mouth to protest, but he is faster. “Trust me, it’s not worth fighting about. You are not going to win. So save your energy and get comfortable.”

“Fine!” I yell, throwing my hands up. “But I’m not sharing a blanket with you.” I climb back into the bed and lie down on the edge farthest away from him.

This is probably the most childish thing I have done, but I couldn’t care less. The truth is, it’s not worth the fight. He is right about that. I know I’m not going to get past him, but I don’t have to make it easy on him either. Just because he’s decided he wants me now doesn’t mean I still do.

Emmett sprawls out on his side of the bed, pulls the comforter up to his chest, and flips off the light. “Suit yourself, but this is the only one I have, I’m afraid.”

Sure it is.I roll my eyes in the dark. He lives in a fucking mansion with only one blanket.

Turning onto my side, I curl up, pulling my legs to my chest in an effort to stay warm. It’s not particularly cold in here, but lying still, on top of being exhausted, makes it difficult to get comfortable.

At least I won’t have to worry about falling asleep, which I’m not planning on doing. I need to stay up, so I can leave before he wakes up.

For a long time, I remain in this position, forcing myself to breathe evenly to make it sound like I’m asleep. As time passes, it gets harder and harder to stay still and not shiver.

Did he turn up the air conditioner on purpose?

With a deep sigh, Emmett moves around beside me. He is not touching me anywhere, but I know he must be closer now from the way the mattress has dipped slightly. My own body wants to get closer, seeking out the warmth he would provide.

Just thinking about it has me shivering a little more. Exhaustion has made me weak, and I turn my body toward him out of instinct.

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