Her hand slipped, slicing through the apple’s skin, and the length of red peel tumbled to the floor.
“Fuck, no.” Inconceivable. That hadn’t happened in years.
“Never mind,” he said, like it was nothing. Like what he did to her life was nothing. What he did to her.
She lifted her head and glared at him. “You did that.”
His eyes widened. “Roslyn. I didn’t touch you.”
“You didn’t need to.”
“What are you on about?”
“You were lurking,” she said, voice rising with every word. She enforced her point with the tip of the knife, waving it directly below his nose. Anger didn’t begin to cover it. Fury coursed through her, making her tremble and shake. “You’re always lurking.”
Nick leant back, gaze glued to the blade. “Calm down.”
“Calm down? I can’t even get away from you for a minute and you’re back again, hovering over my shoulder. Stalking me. Sticking your nose into everything I do. You’re f**king insane! You’re keeping me hostage! Who does that? Huh? What kind of f**ked-up individual pulls this sort of shit?”
Her livid words bounced around the cabin, echoing off the walls. The air hummed with them like static electricity. She could see the exact moment he snapped, when her abuse released the demon in him. Someone had flicked a switch.
“So put us both out of our misery,” he roared. His face morphed from calm to enraged, lips drawn back in a snarl. He snatched up her hand, gripping it tight, and pressed the shiny blade to his own throat. “Go on.”
“Nick!” If he frightened her before, he scared the hell out of her now. Strong fingers clenched her hand, making her bruise sting. The apple fell, forgotten, as she tugged on her wrist, fighting him for possession of the blade. “Stop it.”
“Do it.”
“No!”
“You know you want to.” His eyes were lit with anger or desperation or who the f**k knew what. They terrified her. “The key to your padlock’s in my back pocket. Now’s your chance, sweet.”
“Let me go.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Ros. You gonna co-operate?”
“I mean let go of my hand.” She pulled, but he pushed back. His skin compressed into a single tortured point then gave. The tip of the knife punctured his neck. It was a pin-prick, nothing more. But blood bloomed bright and horror tightened her throat. “Nick.”
He bared his teeth at her in a wide, manic grin. “It’s not so hard, killing people. You can do it. God knows I deserve it, keeping you locked up like this. I’m an animal. You’re right.”
It felt like fire speared up her arm, her muscles straining furiously. He was too strong. But if he did this …
“No regrets. Nice and fast, Ros. Come on.” His fingers tightened around her hand. Panic scattered her wits and her heart beat so hard it hurt. Her pulse roared in her ears. No, no, no.
“Don’t you dare,” she cried, her eyes hot. Her vision swam. She blinked back tears, desperately trying to see him. “Don’t you f**king dare, Nick!”
The man stopped and stared, eyes fierce and mouth tight. Incredulous—that’s how he looked, as if he’d woken startled from sleep. “Me?” The back of his hand stroked softly across her cheek. “How about you? Crying is cheating.”
“I’m not crying,” she yelled in his face.
“You’re about to.”
“Yeah, well, you’re hurting my hand,” she said, the first thing to come to mind. His grip was bruisingly tight, but who cared? Compared to him threatening to slit his own neck with the knife, it didn’t really factor. It might distract him, though.
“Sorry.” He frowned. One by one he peeled back his fingers. Her skin was striped pink from his grip. “Didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.
“And you think I want to hurt you?”
“Why wouldn’t you? Stop that,” he tsked and put his hands to her face. Gently the pads of his thumbs brushed over her cheeks. “Do you forgive me?”
Did she? Something big and ugly and tangled sat within her, dying to get out. Something rib-bustingly, heart-burstingly horrible, and it was all his fault. Her insides hurt. He made it impossible to breathe. She couldn’t stand it any longer.
“You’re crazy.” Roslyn dropped the knife and pushed aside his hands. “How could you do that to me?”
Big hands enclosed her shoulders and drew her in. Violently she shrugged him off and shoved at him. Her palms slapped against his chest so hard they stung. The man actually stumbled back a step, proof of his own obviously addled state. “The chain or the knife?”
“Both.”
“Look at me,” he said quietly. “Please?”
She didn’t want to, but she did. The pull he had on her was horrible. “What?”
“Hey.” He gave her a contrite look, forehead furrowed and eyes full of woe. A spot of blood slid down his neck from the small cut. “I’m sorry I hurt your hand.”
She jerked a shoulder, as close to a shrug as she could manage. Every part of her ached.
“Is it alright?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I just said that so you’d cut the crap with the knife.”
“Did you?” The side of his mouth kicked up into a smile and small lines wrinkled beside his eyes. “Huh.”
“You’re an idiot, but I don’t want to kill you.”
“No?” His voice sounded deep and hoarse. It rumbled right through her. “What do you want to do with me?”
She threw her hands wide in exasperation and he grabbed at them. With a growl she stepped back, wrapped her arms tight around herself. “No. I don’t know.”
“But you don’t hate me.”
After everything he’d done to her, she ought to. It was inexcusable that she didn’t hate him with an unholy passion. But she didn’t. Not even a little, just like he’d said.
Shit.
Guilt smothered her. Her eyelids squeezed tight. She shook her head, scowling so hard she could feel a headache coming on. Pain crept up the side of her face and fuzzed up her mind. How perfect, feeling bad for not despising someone. How ridiculous. She’d always tried to be a good person, tried to do the right thing. Falling into a big black hole of negativity never helped anyone, only he drove her insane.
He made to touch her and she shifted back as far as she could, which wasn’t far enough.