Page 53 of Captive Souls

We stayed like that, staring through the air that had become charged at some point.

I spoke first. He certainly wouldn’t have. He seemed as if he would be content to stand there and stare at me for hours.

Which he was.

He did it all day every day.

And it was only then when I truly realized that he wasn’t staring at me like a captor watching a captive. He was watching me like a man living in eternal darkness gazing at his first glimpse of sunshine, unwilling to blink lest it leave.

“What is going to happen to me?” I asked him, my voice so low I wondered if it would even carry across the distance between us.

At first, I didn’t think it did. Knox didn’t move a muscle, nothing to betray he’d heard me.

Clenching my jaw, I waited, even though my first instinct was to fill the silence. Knox had taught me about that, the power in the chasm between conversation, what it meant if you were willing to weather it and wait for someone to tell you what they truly thought after having time to consider.

Knox had taught me a lot of things.

That the world was dangerous, dark and full of miscreants.

That my life was as fragile as that of a butterfly’s wings.

That I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was.

But I wasn’t weak either.

And most importantly, I was infatuated with wicked things. Wicked men.

One in particular.

“You are going to be destroyed,” he answered finally, his voice rough, not calm and controlled like it had been.

I flinched at the animality in his tone. The life in it. The pure heat.

He pushed off the counter, reaching me in a handful of strides. His hand went to the back of my neck, holding me in place.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart in my toes.

I peered up at him, unable to look anywhere but into the inky abyss of his eyes. The famous quote about staring into the abyss said it stared back at you. But this one swallowed me whole.

“You will be destroyed.” It came out softer this time, his thumb stroking my jaw in a gesture so impossibly tender, I hadn’t thought he was capable of it.

He was holding me like I was delicate, precious, like he was scared that one wrong move would shatter me—in direct odds with what he was saying.

“Your fate was sealed the second Stone laid eyes on you,” he continued. “The second he tasked me with breaking you.” I stifled a gasp when he leaned closer. “But you have broken something instead…” He trailed off, swallowing words I was desperate to hear.

Him. That’s what he left unsaid. What my wretched, hopeful, fucked-up heart was hoping he’d say. That I’d brokenhim.

I ached for him to give me that, to say it out loud.

But he didn’t. Didn’t say anything to further explain just how and when and by whom I was going to be destroyed. He just stood there, holding on to me.

Our lips were inches apart, my heart beating so fast it was about to explode. My skin felt like it was made of wasps, and my thighs were clenched together so hard that there was barely space for the wetness seeping from my pussy to escape.

I was sure that the loud bang I heard was coming from inside my head. But it wasn’t. In the next breath, Knox’s hands were no longer at my neck. Before I could unravel what was happening, I was shoved roughly behind him.

Then there was a loud crack—not as loud as I expected a gunshot to be. Not that I knew it was a gunshot right off the bat. Knox let out a grunt but didn’t move.

My legs turned to cooked noodles as I stood behind his large form.