“You keep acting like I should be scared of you. Why is that?”
“Because I’m bad news, Chloe.”
“Yet here you are giving me a lift back to town.”
“Didn’t want to see you get mauled by that bear.”
“No other reason?”
“No.” He says the word like he’s slamming a door shut but I’m keeping my foot in it.
“You sure?” I ask.
He glances at me again. “You don’t want to keep asking these questions, trust me.”
“Don’t keep doing that. Don’t keep acting like you’ve got all these secrets you can’t share. It doesn’t make you seem mysterious and sexy, it’s just irritating.”
“You want the truth?” he snaps. “Fine. I burned your file. I’m supposed to take that necklace you’re wearing and take it back to my boss along with the box I just dug up.”
“A box? Is that what my dad buried out here?”
“No idea.” It’s the first time he’s sounded like he isn’t telling me the truth.
“Why are you meant to take my necklace?” I ask, holding it with my fingers as if I’d have any chance of stopping me if he chooses to rip it from me. “Tell me that, at least.”
The car skids to a halt. He gets out and walks a few feet away. “Fuck,” he snaps out loud, spinning around in time to find me getting out too. He walks over to my side, getting way too close to me, shaking his head as if he’s about to bite me or kiss me. “I need to leave,” he says. “Right now.”
I reach out, taking his wrist in mine. I can see the pain in his eyes. He’s torturing himself as he looks at me like he’s stabbing himself with a sword. His face is dark as thunder but the anger is failing to hide that pain. “You don’t need to go anywhere,” I tell him. “Have you thought about talking to me about whatever’s bothering you?”
He barks out a cold laugh. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about since I first saw you. Don’t you think I want to tell you what this is about, Chloe? But some things have to be kept secret so I’m going to ask you nicely. Let me have the necklace, let me drive you back to town. Forget about me. Forget we ever met. Can you do that?”
“No,” I reply, still holding his wrist. “Not until you tell me why.”
“Fuck,” he says, spitting the word out like he’s about to strike me. I wince, expecting the blow but all he does is yank his arm free from my wrist. “I can’t do this anymore,” he mutters to himself before his eyes meet mine and he stands taller than before, his back perfectly straight. He stares at me for a moment, taking a deep breath.
“I can give you twenty-four hours,” he says. “Then I’m a ghost.” It’s his turn to take my wrists in his hands, keeping my attention on him. “Don’t say anything yet. I can give you a single day. I’m not relationship material and I can’t offer you anything soft and warm and fluffy. There will be fucking with rules and safe words and probably some pain for us both. I won’t sleep beside you overnight. I always sleep alone. What do you say? You don’t want that, do you? Tell me you don’t.”
“Will you tell me what’s going on when the time is up?”
“I’ll tell you what I can and no more. Say no, Chloe. Say no and tell me to go fuck myself. Do it.”
I shake my head. “You don’t want me to say no, not really, do you?”
His expression turns from anger to lust to pain in a few seconds of silence. Whatever is hurting him is tearing him to pieces inside. “No,” he says at last. “Even if you say no, I might still give you the twenty-four hours I can spare.”
“Without my consent? Is that supposed to be romantic or stalky? I’m not sure.”
“Fuck it,” he says, grabbing both sides of my face and kissing me. His lips press to mine and the only way I can hope to describe it accurately is to say that he possesses my mouth. My breath is whipped from my lungs and swallowed by him like it’s giving him life force. His tongue presses into mine, moving over it with aggressive force, leaving me staggering on the spot.
My legs are only working because he’s holding me up with his strong hands. When he lets go of me, I almost fall but he catches me, cradling me in his arm. “I’m taking that as a yes,” he says. “Get in the car.”
I force my feet to move, climbing into the seat, my lips still tingling from his kiss.
“What do you want most out of life?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, hardly hearing the words over the angels singing in my ears. Or is it a group of devils?
“What do you want out of life? If you could do anything, what would you do?”