Page 85 of Taming Seraphine

“So?”

“We’re going to work on how to defend yourself against grabby assholes without cutting or gouging body parts.”

She scowls. “They shouldn’t touch me in the first place.”

“No, but unfortunately, the State of New Alderney doesn’t agree with your brand of justice,” I say. “Your task tonight is to survive a night in a club without ending up in jail.”

Seraphine falls silent, although her expression is still mutinous. I glare down at her, and she looks away.

“I can’t do this,” she says.

“How did you keep your urges at bay during missions?”

“That was different.” She shrugs.

“How?”

“The first year and a half, someone was always nearby to activate the chip if I strayed from the plan.” She runs her fingers through her coffee-darkened hair.

My gaze drops to the bandage plastered behind her ear, and I shudder. Anton used to call this schedule of punishments and rewards operant conditioning, except he used it to train dogs. When they learned to perform a task, they would get a treat. When they fucked up, the electric collar.

“And the later years?” I ask.

She dips her head, a curtain of brown hair falling over her face. “Some men harassed me while I was on missions, but I banked the anger.”

My steps slow, and I take her arm. “What does that mean?”

Seraphine jerks her head to the side. “If someone touched me, I just took it. I didn’t react because I would save my rage for their boss or whoever was the target.”

“So, instead of lashing out, you used the anger as fuel to complete your mission?”

Her features harden. “I can control myself, but it’s like turning on the heat to a pressure cooker. My anger will build and build and build until I release everything in a huge explosion.”

Fuck.

This explains why she didn’t stop killing after castrating Billy Blue and why she stabbed that bum in the eye at the gas station.

I release her arm.

Anton would advise me to put Seraphine down as a mad dog, but he was one of the bastards responsible for breaking her psyche.

“What happens when you explode?” I ask.

“It depends on what’s available.” She raises both shoulders. “If there’s a knife, I’ll keep going until I’m satisfied. Sometimes, I like to experiment, like that time with the hair dryer.”

“And afterward?”

“The pressure goes away, and I feel like shit because the twins will either punish me for making a mess or starve Gabriel.”

Which explains why she never ran. Even if she could get out of the range of the remotes that activated her tracker, Seraphine was bound by her imprisoned brother.

“You can bite, kick, scratch, slap and scream to get through the night,” I say, my voice soft. “But you can’t use weapons unless it’s in self-defense.”

“How will I know the difference?” she asks.

“If he inflicts pain, tries to carry you off, threatens your life, or pulls out a weapon of his own, that’s self-defense. Understand?”

She nods. “What if he says something creepy?”

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