Page 35 of Babalon

Why is that comforting?

“I’m sorry for always using excessive force, for alienating you, for talking down to you and—and I’m sorry for assaulting you. I know the words don’t make up for the shit I have done, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just know what it’s like to be on the receiving end and I’ve been punishing myself for it ever since.”

The weight of the apology was so fucking suffocating, and it doesn’t make me feel better. The day hasn’t made any sort of improvement. It’s been an absolute shit show, but now that I am standing here with him, confessing all my wrongs, I thought maybe—just maybe—there was a light switch somewhere that could be turned on.

“Take the handcuffs off of me.”

“What… No, I’m not doing that.”

“Yes, yes you are. And once you have, I’m going to fucking hold you because I know you’re broken, Nadia. I can see it in those hauntingly beautiful eyes. Now, be my good girl, and take off the fucking cuffs.”

What the fuck was he talking about? Better yet, how could he see it?

Pinching my brows together, I gave him my biggest ‘go to hell’ look and didn’t bother moving. The man stands there like he is waiting in line to vote or something else equally boring—passive and unimpressed. After taking a couple of breaths, he turns around and presents his wrists to me to which I moved on impulse. This is a bad idea; I should never be alone with an inmate, let alone not have them restrained.

Closing the distance between us, I reach for my keys that hang from my duty belt. Once I found the one I need, I slide it intothe locking mechanism and gave it a quick turn, allowing the bolts and pins to open and release the bar that keeps the cuffs in locked, only to repeat the same motions with the other one. Once he was free, I attach them and the keys back to my duty belt as Kace rubs his reddened wrists.

“That’s better,” he said.

Without missing a beat, his hand shot out, grabbing the front of my shirt, and yanked me to him, causing me to crash against his body, feeling both arms tightening over my shoulders, squeezing me against his body.

Shit, he feels good. This feels good.

Warmth instantly spreads through my chest while he holds me close, his nose buried in my hair, which is odd right? It takes me a moment to reciprocate, my arms sliding around his waist, hands gripping the middle of his back while I press my head to his chest.

I’m in so much fucking trouble.

“Not so bad is it, snitch?”

“No, I guess it isn’t,” I answer back.

We stay there for several minutes, the sound of his heart thumping wildly against my ear. I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me, let alone held me like he did—his hands now brushing idly up and down my back. After all the things I have done to this man, standing here wrapped in his embrace as if I was the one who has been tormented for years, was not something I ever expected. Definitely not on my yearly bingo card.

“Good, good,” he murmurs. His large hands drifting up my back, then to my arms and over my shoulders. I could feel him starting to pull away.

No, please— please don’t move yet.

“Because it’s my turn.”

“Huh?” I asked.

Both of his hands cup my face just then, tilting it up to look him dead in the eye, allowing me to see the change cross over his features. Dread hits me in the gut when his right hand quickly clamps around the front of my throat and he shoves me back against the wall.

“I said… it’smyturn.”

Chapter eleven

Nadia

Present

At first, I thought he was going to kill me, like really kill me, if I’m going to be honest, but the longer he stars down at me I can tell he needs this just as much as I do. He may look pissed off right now but beyond the glare he aims my way, I see lust and a fire that is in dire need of quenching. When his hand tightens around my neck, I know that his ‘turn’ is going to be me, and I am going to let him have whatever the hell he wants.

The hard surface of the wall caused my duty belt, baton, and other gear to dig into the small of my back, sending a pain across my senses that I did everything in my power to ignore. Then my tactical vest felt as if it was shrinking, my lungs fighting to expand though his hand pins my airway closed.

I need air.

I need to breathe because I feel like I have been suffocating my whole life, and though he holds my throat unyieldingly, I feel relieved. Kace can take it all away if I allow him to, if I let him keep squeezing until the cartilage in my esophagus cracks and I can no longer draw in a real breath.

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