Page 72 of Broken Souls
I would have fought for him.
If Dayne, the person I love most in the world –fuck you, Varius– was missing and all the evidence I found pointed to Varius having taken him, I still wouldn’t have tortured him for a location.
I would have trusted him.
Believedin him.
Believed inus.
When he kneels down in front of me, his hands reaching for mine, I snatch them away. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? He doesn’t get totouchme.
All of the women in his gang might be disciplined into being ‘good and proper’ little breedmares regardless of what their husbands do to them.
But I’m not a fucking Shadow.
I’m a godsdamn Black.
My head comes up as I sneer, “Get the fuck away from me.”
He stands, then turns away from me, and I stare at him in shock and pain andrage.Now, a logical part is telling me that he’s doing exactly what I asked him to do. But that cold anger I was feeling, that logical fury, has just been dropped into a fucking volcano.
Grabbing the nearest item to my right – a broken piece of the chair he tortured me in, I throw it at the back of his head.
He twists to the side at the last second, and the thing flies past his face. It doesn’t even graze his nose. Fuckingbastard.
Growling, I grab another item and throw it at him. He ducks this time. I throw it at his feet. He jumps. My rage builds to the point I’m ready to throw magic at him and damn us all, but by then, he’s in the bathroom and opening the cabinet below the sink.
I freeze as I watch him squat down to grab the healing wand from inside it. My throat clogs up at his desire to care for me. But then bitterness opens it back up again.
Fuck him.
“I’m not using that,” I say, refusing to do anything he wants me to.
“You’re hurt.”
A mad cackle comes out of me as I clench my burned flesh into fists. The pain that erupts there is fucking terrible, but it’s a lot more manageable than the agony inside my chest. “I’m hurt?” I laugh again. “That’s fucking golden.”
“Micha –” he says.
“You tortured me!” I yell, jumping to my feet as he walks towards me. “I told you I didn’t do it, and you hurt me so badly, I –” My throat clenches tight, cutting off my words. But I force them out. Force him to know exactly what he took from me. “I can’t use my magic anymore,” I say, raising my hands and opening them, letting him look at the mess I made of my palms. “I tried to do a simple spell – Something achildcan do… And I nearly killed myself.”
Grabbing my wrist, he hauls me to him. There’s darkness in his eyes – a primal, feral challenge that sends shivers down my spine. I start to tell him to get the fuck off me and never touch me again when he growls, “You’re not allowed to die.”
I blink, and my brain stops to try to figure out what the fuck that means, but my mouth doesn’t care. It just runs, fueled by all the pain and anger inside of me. Except when I start to tell him he can go fuck himself with his orders, his mouth crashes down on mine.
I freeze for a split second.
Then I try to knee him. Right in the fucking balls.
Impact.
He grunts against my lips and sags a bit, but he doesn’t release me. Doesn’t stop kissing me. His hands are cupping my face, and his tongue is pushing inside my open mouth. Giving me the comfort I’ve been craving. Then his hands are on my ass, lifting me up so he can straighten, and mine are on his chest.
To push him off.
To pull him to me.
He strides over to the bed but only takes a few steps before he pivots and heads back into the ensuite – the only place I haven’t touched in my rage.
