God knew I was going to enjoy every moment of it.

Chapter 17

TATUM

The lights went on, blinding me. Somewhere between thoughts of Vico finishing what he started by beating me to a pulp, and Castello setting my body on fire with his touch, I fell asleep. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep. I didn’t experience those two seconds when you woke up thinking the hell you’d been through was only a bad dream, and you were back in your own room living your normal life. The instant I woke, I knew exactly where I was…and I knew he was standing next to me.

“Good morning, Tatum.”

I moaned, my head pounding, my body aching, and my stomach complaining as if my throat had been cut. The hunger pains returned…with a vengeance.

I pushed myself up and wiped the hair out of my face.

“You look like hell.”

I glowered his way. Like always, he looked dapper in a gray suit, his ink-black hair groomed to perfection. Along with his familiar scent of cedarwood, amber, and peppermint, I also caught the smell of the citrus shampoo—the same shampoo I used yesterday.

“So after our very eventful evening last night, I’m sure you are famished.” He glanced to the door, and my gaze followed, settling on the same trolley he brought in yesterday.

And then the smell hit me, ricocheting right to the center of my gut. Every instinct I had told me to launch at that trolley and stuff my mouth with anything and everything I could find. My blood was already pumping vigorously, adrenaline surging through my body, readying me to fight and kill if I had to.

“God, you’re about to turn into a savage, aren’t you?”

I looked up at him, unable to open my mouth since I might end up tearing through every ounce of food on that trolley.

Castello grabbed a chair, sat, and opened one of the silver domes.

“Come, eat.”

I wasn’t about to make him invite me twice. I jumped to my feet, the towel dropping from my body to pool around my feet.

“Not so fast.” He held out his hand, and I crouched to pick up the towel.

“Stop.”

I didn’t move.

“Leave the towel.”

“But I—”

“Shut up. Leave the towel and get on your knees.”

“Excuse me?” I glared at him.

“Let me assure you, Miss Linscott, now is not the time to be stubborn. Now, leave the towel and get on your knees.” He cocked his head. “That’s if you want to eat.”

I swallowed hard. “Why do you want me on my knees?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

He smirked then reached for something on the trolley. I watched as he popped one of the reddest, ripest, most delicious-looking strawberries I had ever seen into his mouth. Licking my lips, I imagined how the sweetness would burst in his mouth as he bit through it. The tiny little pips crunching between his teeth.

“Please,” I heard myself say. It wasn’t my intention to beg, but my body was ravenous, starved, and it took precedence over my need to fight and to be stubborn.

“There is more than enough for me to share with you. Just get on your fucking knees.”