Page 85 of Captive Souls

He ran his hand along my hip. It was colored with bruises the same size and shape of his finger pads, evidence of the way he held me, as if he wanted to imprint his touch onto my bones.

I truly hoped I wore his bruises for the rest of my life. That every day I’d wake up with a mottling of black and blue in intimate places, proof of just how hard he was holding on to me.

I, too, was learning to bathe in his silences before he answered my questions. If he did. He didn’t always respond to me. Not because he was ignoring me but because he didn’t have words. Usually he did very well by communicating with me through actions.

I thought that he might not answer this time. That I was asking him to be too vulnerable, not just with me but with himself.

“A painter.” His voice was ice cold, a sign that he was covering up his true feelings.

My heart skipped at that large victory he gave me.

“A painter?” I repeated, using considerable effort to keep my voice smooth, even.

He nodded once. I waited for more explanation beyond that, but in Knox-like fashion, he didn’t give me one.

Which was fine because I had all the information I needed.

Later, we were at the bottom of the mountain on a supply run. Together. He hadn’t so much as asked me but made it a forgone conclusion that I’d be coming. That he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. I felt the same.

The warning of The Devil card lingered in the back of my mind, about an intoxicating, addicting attraction that would be my destruction.

I had experience with that. I’d conquered addiction before—as well as anyone could. But Knox was no substance, and there was no way I could quit him.

I pushed those thoughts from my mind and made a plan instead.

“I need you to put some trust in me,” I said when Knox stopped the car.

“I trust you with my life,” he replied instantly. He was still gripping the steering wheel. “But not with yours. That’s too precious.”

My throat seized with his words, both with the value he put on my life and the intensity in which he spoke. It was almost stifling, the new obsession he had with me. Or maybe it was an obsession that had been there all along, a beast only recently let out of its cage.

And I didn’t hate it. No. I was quickly understanding that I didn’t know what I’d do without it. I was swimming in an obsession of my own.

“I’ll be right in there.” I nodded to the building. I’d directed him to the nearest big-box store in the small town that was a thirty-minute drive from the base of the mountain. Which wasn’t actually that far, considering this was America and we lived on big-box stores, franchises and fast food. Among other things, but those were the things you could rely on, even in the middle of nowhere.

“Alone.” I could practically hear his teeth gnashing together. “Not gonna happen.” His word was threaded with authority. His word was law.

“If you’ll remember, I walked around New York City alone for years before you stumbled upon me,” I teased.

“Luck. Dumb luck,” he gritted out. “You may have it. I do not.”

I smiled, unbuckling my seat belt then leaning over to grasp his face to lay a close-mouthed kiss on his lips.

This was where I lost control. Knox wasn’t one for chaste kisses. His mouth plundered mine, a brutal invasion of pleasure to the point that he’d hauled me across the car so I was straddling him, grinding against him like an animal in heat before I knew what was happening.

“You’re not going anywhere without me, Petal.”

Pulling back and grinning, I rubbed against where he was hard for me.

“Hold that thought,” I told him. Then in a rare act of stealth, somehow, I managed to open the car door and jump out of it without Knox stopping me.

I closed it behind me, finger waving to a furious Knox, knowing I had at least a small head start since he couldn’t go waltzing into the store sporting a giant, visible boner.

Time to execute my plan.

“You are in so much fucking trouble.”

I was yanked away from my perusal of acrylic paints and into a hard, furious body.