Page 12 of Protect Me
I shake my head, my thoughts fuzzy all of a sudden. “You’re so pretty to look at, but then you start talking, and the whole thing is ruined.” I clamp down on my mouth the moment the words are out, a little shocked at myself. But he surprises me by throwing his head back and laughing. The sound of it warms me in places I’ve felt nothing but icy fear for way too long.
“Ruined how, exactly?”
“You’re so ready to commit violence,” I say, which only earns me more laughter.
“You’re a trip, new girl.” His green eyes are warmer now, gleaming with something dangerously close to interest.
“Helen,” I say, sinking deeper into the warmth that’s spreading through me now. “Call me Helen.”
“We both know that’s not your real name. So why don’t you tell me what it is?”
“No, I don’t think I want to be that girl right now.” I wave a heavy hand. “You wouldn’t like her,” I slur. “She’s weak.”
His eyes darken with intensity. “I very much doubt that,Helen. You do seem to have a lot of secrets, though, don’t you?”
His question is carefully light, but I can feel the darkness in me coming up to meet it. And right now, I don’t want darkness. “Killian,” I say, testing out the syllables on my tingly tongue.
“That’s my name, love.”
“I know one of your secrets. You’re nice even when you’re grouchy.”
He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I lick my lips, trying to understand how in the world these things keep coming out of my mouth. The drugs, I remember lazily. The herbs Adaya gave me. They must have kicked in. And their effects are making everything feel loose—even my tongue, apparently.
I groan at that.
“You feeling better?” he asks knowingly, a small smile quirking his mouth. A very delicious-looking mouth if I’m being honest. I want to touch it. To feel if those plush lips are just as soft as they appear.
“Much,” I admit, sighing happily.
The pain is gone. Now, all I feel is numb.
“You have a lot of piercings,” I say.
“You haven’t seen the half of them, love. Maybe one day I’ll show you. When you’re not under the influence.” He winks.
My eyes widen at that, but even drugged, I can’t bring myself to ask the questions his words elicit. Something about my face draws another laugh out of him, though.
He shakes his head then runs a hand through blond hair that hangs messily to his chin. Tracking the movement, I catch sight of several rings on his fingers and find myself wondering how it would feel to touch him with all that metal decorating his body.
Before I can formulate a response, there’s a knock at the door.
He strides toward it and grunts at whoever’s on the other side. Someone hands him a tray, though I can’t see who. Then he’s shutting the door and carrying the tray toward my bed.
“You can put it over there,” I say, stifling another yawn as I point at the small counter.
“Absolutely not. You need to eat.” He sets the tray on my bed, forcing me to tuck my legs underneath me or risk spilling everything. I sit up, ready to argue until the smell of the food hits me. My stomach growls, effectively nullifying my protests.
He flashes a smug smile and crosses his arms.
I reach for the spoon then glance up at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you just going to stand over me and watch me eat like some kind of prison guard?”
“I could feed you if you’d like,” he offers with a grin.
“Let me keep at least some of my dignity.”
He flashes me a smile before grunting and snagging a chair from the small breakfast table. He turns it backward before straddling it. Propping his arms on the wooden back, he says, “Is this better?”