Page 36 of The Predator
They all look at me with pity, and it’s a constant reminder of all that I’m trying to forget.
And while I hate to admit it, Sebastian is right. I want him, and I want what we had before everything went to shit, but it feels like there’s too much between us. Too much darkness and too many secrets.
Every time I close my eyes I see the blood on my hands and the way Sebastian looked at me when he caught me in his arms outside that disgusting motel. It wasn't fear exactly, but pride.
I don’t want him to be proud of me for killing a man, though. I don’t want fear. I don’t want pity. I don’t want pride…hell, I don’t know what I want. What I need.
My annoyance at being tied up returns, and I tug at the bonds again as if they’ll magically disappear.
When they don’t, I release another sigh. That bastard better come back to let me go to the bathroom soon, or he's going to have a much bigger issue on his hands.
Sebastian is equal parts unhinged and frustrated, but I guess that’s partially my fault. We seem to be matching energies right now, and I know no good will come from that. Still, the man makes me want to punch him in the jaw and kiss him at the same time.
What an infuriating asshole.
The bedroom door opens without warning, and I fix a glare on the person entering.
Lee pokes his head inside and gives me a big grin when he catches sight of me. "Oh, well, this is interesting."
I roll my eyes, and shift so I can make sure the covers are over my lap and the shorts, which are rucked up from my struggles, aren’t showing off my ass.
"What do you want?"
He walks into the room like he lives here, showing off a pair of low slung jeans, a bare chest, and bare feet. I try not to notice his perfectly sculpted muscles on display.Why isn’t he wearing a shirt?
He raises a bottle of water and shakes it toward me. "I’ve been given the task of ensuring you don’t dehydrate, though I think you would have to be doing somethingother than lying in a bed for that to happen.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he slowly walks over to the small bar in the corner of the room. “What do I know though?” He smirks over his shoulder then selects a bottle of liquor and replaces it with the water bottle.
Turning to face me, he shakes the liquor. "This seems like a better choice at the moment, don't you think?"
I give him a befuddled expression, but he doesn't seem fazed. "Is drinking all you do?"
“No. I offer many services, which I will happily tell you about. My biggest seller is fucking, followed by endless orgasms, then fucking shit up, and we’re always sold out of this one, but being a total disgrace to my family.” He climbs up onto the bed, rolls onto his back and lays his head across my lap on top of the mound of blankets and sheets. “Shall I go on, or do you get the idea?”
Up close, I can see his brown curls are disheveled, and a fine sheen of sweat clings to his brow. The guy is a hot mess, and somehow that makes him look even prettier.
“I’ll take that as a no…” He tips the bottle up and takes a long gulp. Then he holds it up to my mouth, giving me a way bigger swallow than I would have taken and damn near choking me in the process.
It burns its way down my throat, blazing a fire into my belly. "What's the occasion?" I ask.
He rolls to face me. "What’s with the bondage? Did I miss something kinky? Because if I did I’m going to be pissed. Seb always does the fun stuff without me.” The frown on his face is so fake it makes me smile as he continues. “I thought you were just confined; what did you do to get tied up?"
"You know, the usual...too much attitude, fighting…he's mad at me for anything and everything."
His brow wrinkles deeply like he’s lost in thought, and then he offers me another shot, and I open my mouth, letting him pour the liquor inside. "He's been off since you were taken. He kinda, sorta, lost his shit, and I don’t think he’s returned to his normal self, probably because you haven’t returned to your normal self, either.”
I blink at him, considering his rather insightful comment. I don’t think anyone gives Lee the credit he deserves. The guy might look like he’s lost his damn mind, but maybe he’s the only one of us embracing his crazy.
"Okay, Mister-Know-It-All. How do I come back from what happened? The girl I was before I left this house…if I’m being honest, I think I left a part of her back there in that cheap motel.”
Lee's jaw tenses, and he shakes his head. "That's bullshit. Don’t give that fucker any more of you than he’s already taken. You don’t owe him anything, and you shouldn’t feel bad about what happened, either. Everyone has a choice to make, and sometimes it’s to merely survive a shitty situation or let it kill you. You did what you had to do. Nothing more, nothing less."
My chest tightens, and for the first time in days I feel seen and heard. I look away before I start to cry and swallow around the lump of words clogging my throat. My lips burn with the need to ask the question I’ve needed an answer for since they pulled me from that place.
"Is Yanov dead? Did I really kill him?"
Lee tilts my face back towards him, studies me for a moment, and then crawls up the length of my body. He doesn’t touch me otherwise, and when he’s abreast of me, he sinks back down onto the mattress next to where my arm is stretched out tight. "He’s dead, and right now, it might seem like all hope is lost and you don't know who you are, but trust me…what you do in response to a trauma is not who you are or what you are. It's your survival instinct given life. You got yourself out of there, and now, you need to figure out how to push that instinct back deep inside you."
The truth of his words slam into me, and I stare at him. How can someone who acts so hopeless still have so much hope? He brings the bottle of liquor to his lips and takes another gulp, and when he offers me another drink, I take it.