Page 66 of Silenced

I flick a look at the holstered knife that makes the faintest of bulges through his sports coat, but he doesn’t reach for it.

“What are you going to do?” I demand. My actions might be passive but my words aren’t. “Stab me? Rape me?”

My words have him freezing in place. Then, in a flurry of movement, he snatches a napkin, dips it into the water glass on the tray, and, as he scrubs at the fruit on his cheek, stares at me all the while.

To be the focus of that weaponized silence is unnerving, but not as much as watching him sign, “You are safe here,” when he’s done.

Those fucking words—who knew they could be the most annoying ones imaginable?

Temper overtaking my worry, I sneer at him. “This is how safety looks to you?”

I canfeelhis anger surge like I lit a match to a canister of gas, but he doesn’t back away, doesn’t hit me, doesn’t curse at me.

Instead, the only part of him that softens is his eyes.

That reverence has returned.

Fuck, I don’t need to see that right now.

I’m angry,furious, rightfully so. But it’s hard, okay,impossible,when he looks at me like I’m some kind of superstar and he’s a fanboy.

That’s heady shit for a woman who has too many hairs to pluck off her chin every day.

A soft hand trails over my thigh, and I know I could smack it away. Know that I could try to aim for his balls again. But that reverence—it’s crack. No,fentanyl. More addictive than heroin.

I suck in a breath as he brings a million nerve endings to life with that simple touch, and when he pulls back,disappointment,of all things, fills me.

Until he signs, “You might not be hungry, but I am.”

Then, with my eyes wider than ever, he takes a seat at the table and spreads my legs.

And I don’t think to stop him.

Don’t think to kick him so hard that I turn the fucker into a eunuch.

No, I let him.

Maybe because I’m an idiot, or maybe because that fentanyl-coated reverence is something I don’t just need to see…

I need to feel it.

13

NIKOLAI

Retrograde - James Blake

* * *

Am I annoyed?

Of course.

Do I appreciate being spat on?

No.

But…

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