Page 26 of Beg Me Angel

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Throwing my hands up, my ribs expanded and cracked in pain as I took in a mouth full of air. “I didn't ask you to help me.”

“You're right, you didn't.” Tipping his head up, Pax looked at me over his shoulder, licking his teeth with his tongue. “But that doesn't mean you don't owe me for what I did do.”

“That's not fair.”

“This isn't a game, I make the rules here, I decide what happens and what I want.” Taking a slow step, his stride lengthened, his steps heavy and determined.

He was so different from the man I had met the day before, his body was rigid, his face stoic and animated at the same time.

But it was his voice, his words, that were sucking the air out of the room. I needed an out, a way to make it so I couldn't play his little game.

“I don't even have any clean clothes. What am I supposed to do, go out like this?” Fanning the blanket open like a set of wings, I looked down at my body. “This isn't going to work, Pax.”

His arm lashed out, pointing to the table on the side of the couch. Following his finger, I spotted a small stack of clean clothing, folded neatly. Everything I needed was there; pants, shirt, shoes, socks, everything.

I stood frozen in place, hugging a bowl of wild edibles, and stunned.

He doesn't really expect me to hunt, does he?

Why is he making me earn my keep by killing another living creature?

How does that help me?

I wanted to scream at him that I wasn't going to kill anything. Fuck, I'd be happy just eating the crap in the bowl he gave me. What was he trying to prove by forcing me to hunt in his woods?

My mind was made up, I wasn't going to do it. I would follow him where he went, I would nod and listen to what he had to say.

But I was not going to kill anything.

Pax wanted me to earn my keep, he was treating my life like a bartering chip, using the air I was breathing as a debt to him. My chest began to surge with heavy breaths, my heart thudded insanely fast with anger and pain.

It was me—my life—that's what he wanted repayment for. Suddenly all his help changed from chivalrous and awe-inspiring into a sick, disgusting joke.

I thought he had cared for me in some way, that his desire to keep me alive was bound to him by the graces from above. I was lulled into the safety net of a mad man, a mad man who was willing to trade my suffering and pain for a meal.

There was nothing sweet or kind about taking a girl who was still healing out into the woods and making her catch her own food.

There was nothing sweet or kind about demanding a girl to repay you for doing the right thing and saving her life.

Maybe he isn't as sweet as I thought.

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