“You’re a fucking coward, Nikolas Deimos,” I shoot over my shoulder before fleeing the house.
He’s not going to be far behind me, but having the final word like that does make me feel just a tiny bit better.
It’s not until I come to a stop at the end of an empty driveway that I start to question everything.
They brought me here in a van, a van that Daemon has since told me was driven back to the city by Ant when he left.
Thoughts of the boy who set this whole thing in motion don’t make me feel any better.
I haven’t had any contact with him since he walked out of here the day after they abducted me.
I know it’s safer that way, and I know everything is well and truly over between us, but it still hurts. Not knowing if he’s okay or if someone found out what he did hasn’t been far from my mind since he left.
All I can do is hope. No one found us here, so that’s got to be a good sign that he just returned to the city and got on with his life. Right?
“How are we getting back?” I ask when Daemon finally locks up the house behind us and joins me.
His eyes find mine for a beat before he looks away again, as if whatever he sees in my blue depths is too painful to look at.
Good. Right now, I really hope I cause him a whole world of pain, because that’s sure what he’s doing to me.
Without saying a word, he stalks toward the garage and throws the door open, revealing a—
“Oh, no. There’s no way in hell I’m getting on the back of that,” I state.
“What’s wrong, Princess. Scared?” he taunts, his voice as cold as ice.
Throwing my shoulders back and pulling up my big girl pants, I take a step forward.
“You’re not insured to drive that. You’re not old enough.” I’m taking a risk, seeing as my knowledge of motorbikes is about as pathetic as that of guns. But it looks like a big and fast motherfucker to me.
“I’m more than capable of handling it. Now, are you coming, or do I have to figure out a way to tell your father that I left his defiant, pain-in-the-arse daughter here to walk home?”
He wouldn’t. Even the devil himself wouldn’t be stupid enough to go up against my father’s requests like that. But even knowing that, it’s not enough to douse the fire that’s burning in the pit of my stomach.
“I think I’d rather take my chances on foot. Thanks though.”
Hiking my bag up higher on my shoulder, I turn my back on him before he has a chance to say any more and take off toward the deserted street beyond the house.
I almost make it to the path which will lead me fuck knows where before his fingers wrap around my upper arm and I’m hauled back into his solid body. I might know whereabouts we are in the country, but anything past that is a mystery to me right now.
His hot breath dances over my ear, and my traitorous body shudders in response to his proximity.
“Now is not the time to test me, Calli.” His voice is deep and laced with the threat of violence.
“What are you going to do? Drug me again and throw me on the back of it regardless?”
“If I have to,” he mutters, dragging me back toward the garage and out of sight of anyone who might drive down this sleepy road.
“I’ve been given an order, and I’m expected to comply no matter what.”
“Pfft,” I hiss as he drags my bag from my shoulder and stuffs it into a compartment on the bike. “Don’t give me that shit. You’ve been put on ice. You’re not a Cirillo soldier right now, so you can tell my dad to suck it.”
A deep growl rumbles in the back of his throat before he stalks toward me, his hand shooting out to collar my throat.
“Careful, soldier. My daddy will shoot you dead in a heartbeat for putting your hands on me,” I hiss, more than willing to play this bullshit game if he is.
His nostrils flare and his breaths rush past his parted lips.