Page 121 of Merciless

I’ve no idea how long I sit there, trying to convince myself that that girl is dead. She died the night Mav took me home and gave me a new life. Sometimes, though. She just feels a little too real.

Needing a drink, I climb to my feet and pad toward the sink, but I only take one step when a scream rips from my throat and I jump back in fright, colliding with the solid wall behind me.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I shout breathlessly, glaring at the bloody mess of a man sitting in the chair in the corner of my cell, hiding in the shadows.

He studies me right back, and when he doesn’t read the answers to his questions in my eyes, he lets his drop down my body.

I’m wearing the wifebeater JD put on me. It’s not as long as I’d like it to be, its arm holes are fucking massive, showing off more than just a little side boob, and the neck is low, exposing even more boobage. Probably the exact reason he chose it.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and lifts his gaze.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling around the cell.

“You’re not likely to get an answer when you’ve so blatantly ignored mine,” I seethe, crossing my arms under my breasts, making his eyes drop to my cleavage.

He’s not as obvious as JD. He doesn’t have the same hunger and burning desire in his eyes. But he’s interested, there is no doubting that.

Doesn’t mean I’ll ever be able to flirt or seduce my way out of anything with him though. The man is like a rock.

Ignoring him, I give him my back and continue with what I was going to do. His presence means nothing.

I bend over, sticking my ass right out, aware that my borrowed tank won’t cover anything.

His breath catches, but other than that, he doesn’t do anything as I drink straight from the faucet.

Once I’m done, I stand and spin around, letting some of the water drip from my chin before I reach out and wipe it with the back of my hand.

“So to what do I owe this pleasure? Did you get bored watching me on a screen upstairs and want a more 3D experience?”

He watches me as I finger comb my hair and I walk back to my bed to sit down.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” I ask, resting back on my palms and holding his eyes.

His intense stare burns into me, making my skin prickle and my blood heat. It feels wrong sitting here, able to do whatever I want, instead of being bound to a chair while he glares at me.

When the silence and the tension build to the point I can no longer sit still, I slide my feet forward, subtly rubbing my thighs together as I go.

Knowing they’ve probably had eyes on me ever since they left me hanging before, I haven’t finished the job. I’m fucking desperate to, though.

“JD really did a number on you, huh?” I ask.

There’s a big part of me that wants to offer to find a first aid kit and help him clean up, but I stuff it deep, deep down.

The cuts and bruises obviously aren’t all that fresh. The blood on his face and knuckles is dry, and the bruising already darkening.

“I wouldn’t have thought he could overpower you, but I gotta say, you’re in a worse state than the last time I saw him.”

His lips curl up into a smirk that has one of his cuts splitting open. Fresh blood trickles down his scruff-covered chin and my fingers twitch with my need to wipe and catch it. To see if he tastes different to JD.

I shake my head, irritated with myself.

“What?” he asks, not missing the action.

“Nothing,” I spit.

He chuckles but says no more.

“It wasn’t JD,” he confesses after long silent seconds.

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