Page 25 of Sweet Doe
"Tell me," I say gently. "Help me understand."
His eyes flick to mine, surprise and hope warring in their depths. "You want to understand?"
"I want to understand you." The lie comes easier than it should. "If we're going to be... together... then I need to know who you really are."
The word 'together' hangs in the air between us, thick. I watch him process it, the way his entire posture changes as he considers the possibility that I might accept our situation.
"You're tired of fighting," he says, but it's more a question than a statement. He takes that moment to reach into his pocket and pull out the key to my chains, immediately freeing me.
"I'm tired of being afraid." That part isn't a lie. "I'm tired of not knowing what's going to happen next. I'm tired of feeling like I'm walking on eggshells every second."
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Sloan." He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and covers my hand with his. "I would never hurt you. Everything I've done has been to protect you."
His hand is warm and surprisingly gentle. The same hand that killed his brother, that's chained me to this bed, that's stolen my entire life. But right now, in this moment, it just feels like comfort in the middle of all this chaos.
And I hate myself for not pulling away. But at the same time I know I can’t. I have to play the game.
"I know you believe that," I say carefully. "But protection shouldn't feel like imprisonment."
"It's temporary. And this place is a sanctuary." His thumb strokes across my knuckles, and I force myself not to flinch. "You'll see, once you've had time to adjust. Once you understand how perfect this can be."
Perfect. His vision of perfection involves me being completely dependent on him, completely isolated from everyone and everything I've ever known. A pet in a beautifulcage, grateful for whatever scraps of affection he chooses to give me.
The thought makes my stomach turn, but I keep my expression neutral. Interested, even.
"Show me," I say quietly.
"What?"
"Show me how perfect this can be." I turn my hand palm up under his, a gesture of openness that costs me everything. "If this is going to be my life, then I want to understand what that means."
The hope that blooms in his eyes is almost painful to witness. Like I've just granted his deepest wish, given him the one thing he's been desperate for.
"You mean that?" His voice is rough with emotion.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I gesture to the chain that was just around my ankle with my free hand. "I'm not going anywhere. So maybe... maybe we should figure out how to make this work."
The smile that spreads across his face is radiant, transforming his entire appearance. For just a moment, he looks young and vulnerable and almost innocent. Like someone who's never hurt anyone, never destroyed lives, never obsessed over a stranger to the point of kidnapping them.
It's terrifying how appealing this version of him is.
"I knew you'd see reason," he says, lifting my hand to press a soft kiss to my palm. "I knew you were smart enough to understand."
The kiss sends an unwelcome shiver up my arm, and I have to fight not to jerk away. This is the game now. This is survival. I can't afford to react with revulsion when I need him to believe I'm genuinely considering him.
"I understand," I say, injecting just a hint of shyness into my voice.
"Hey." He tilts my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I know this is hard. I know you're scared and confused and probably angry. But I need you to trust that I know what's best for us right now."
Us. Like we're a team. Like we're partners in this.
"Okay," I whisper, letting him see the vulnerability I'm actually feeling. "I'll try to be patient."
"That's all I ask." He stands up, but his hand lingers on my cheek for a moment longer.
"Asher," I whisper, his name falling from my lips so softly.
He's standing over me, silhouetted against the light outside, and I can feel the tension radiating from him. The way his shoulders are set, the way his hands clench and unclench silently at his sides—he's holding himself back,barelyrestraining what’s burning inside him.
