Page 33 of Thorns of Blood
He sighed, almost as if he was exhausted. “I would like to think I’m not, and maybe if you’d give me a chance?—”
I didn’t want to hear it.
“You let them take my daughter from me, you bastard. If you had to kidnap me, why not wait until after the surgery and take us both?” My voice rose with each spoken word. “So no, I won’t do anything you demand. I want you dead, do you understand?”
The strain in the air pulled like a rubber band, threatening to snap.
“I fucking saved you. How about you show some gratitude?” he growled. “Killian would have ended you the moment he saw his wife and child in that operating room.”
Resentment expanded in my chest, the need to lash out suffocating me.
“You must have known this day would come,” he said, his tone softer now.
His words chafed me and I bit my lip, swallowing down my response. I flipped my gaze to the ceiling, staring stubbornly until my vision blurred. I refused to talk to him or anyone about my daughter. Amara was mine. I held her when she cried. I took care of her when she was sick. I protected her from the people who wanted her dead.
Not Emory DiLustro. Not Killian Cullen.Me.
Amara and I saved each other. If that didn’t make us family, I didn’t know what did.
A spoon appeared in front of my face with a curt command. “Eat.”
“I’d rather starve.”
His chuckle was throaty. “Damn, you’re still stubborn.”
My head snapped to look at him. “Still?”
Something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before I could comment. “Eat.”
Reluctantly, I parted my lips, wrinkling my nose in disgust the instant it hit my taste buds. I was right; he was feeding me baby food. I swallowed it, and when he lifted the next spoonful of it to my mouth, I turned my head away in exasperation.
“I’ve seen many torture techniques,” I muttered. “Spoon-feeding tasteless gunk is a new one, even for me.”
“You need to eat,” he growled.
“Actualfood,” I spat. “Not this fucking garbage.”
His gaze fell to the tray overflowing with edible food before returning to me. “You don’t deserve a gourmet meal.” I scoffed. “Unless…”
He trailed off, and my curiosity got the best of me. “Unless?”
“Unless we make a deal.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Men always had an agenda. “What kind of deal?”
“You promise to behave.”
“So baby food is really your form of punishment?” I said in disbelief. “I suspect it isn’t very effective.”
He shoved another spoonful of disgusting slop into my mouth. “You’d be surprised.”
“I bet. What does it do? Make your victims shit themselves?” I muttered sarcastically. The man had to be nuts. “Why do you have that crap anyhow? Have babies on board?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, but I had guests with an infant aboard not too long ago.”
My lips curled. “What? Did they eat all the adult food and leave you with this?”
He sighed.
