Page 26 of Trapping His Angel
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, the raw desperation in her voice slicing through me. My grip on her tightened, my hand sliding to the back of her neck, as I forced her to look at me.
“Stop saying that,” I hissed, my voice rough. “Stop.”
But she didn’t. Her lips kept moving, the words spilling out in a broken chant. My hand cupped her face, my fingers digging into her skin just enough to keep her still.
“Look at me,” I demanded. “Wake up, Isadora. Look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered, her lashes wet with tears, as her gaze slowly focused on mine. “Benedikt?” she whispered, her voice small, trembling.
“Yes,” I snapped, my tone sharp. “And you almost fucking fell out of a window. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I… I don’t know…” she choked out, her tears spilling faster.
“Yes, you do,” I growled, my grip on her face unrelenting. “Who did this to you, Isadora? Who made you like this?”
Her lips trembled, her eyes darting away, as if she could hide from the question. My fingers tightened on her jaw, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“Tell me,” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Who made you think you had to beg to be good? Who made you think this was the only way?”
Her tears spilled faster, her breathing shallow as she whispered, “the headmaster…”
The rage that tore through me was instant, hot and all-consuming. My jaw clenched, my chest heaving with the forceof it. That bastard. That fucking bastard. Even in death, he still had a hold on her. Even after we’d killed him, he was still here. Poisoning her. Haunting her.
I wanted to kill him all over again. I wanted to rip him from whatever hell he was rotting in and destroy him, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.
“He’s dead,” I growled, the words rough and guttural. “Do you hear me, Isadora? He’s fucking dead. He can’t touch you anymore.”
She nodded weakly, her sobs breaking into quiet whimpers.
“You’re mine now,” I continued, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Not his. Not anyone else’s. Mine.”
Her body sagged against me, her tears soaking into my shirt, as I carried her back to the bedroom. When we reached the bed, I dropped her onto the mattress, my hands gripping her shoulders as I pinned her there.
“You stay here,” I ordered, my voice sharp. “You don’t move unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”
She nodded frantically, her wide eyes locked on mine.
“Say it,” I demanded, my grip tightening. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Louder,” I barked, leaning closer.
“I’m yours!” she cried, the words breaking into a sob.
Satisfied, I pulled the blanket over her, my hand brushing against her cheek as her breathing evened out.
“I love you,” I whispered. I wasn’t good enough to tell her to her face. I vowed to tell her every night in her sleep, until she was receptive, and believed it. A subtle manipulation, but I didn’t feel bad about it.
I climbed into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and pulling her tightly against me. She was stiff at first, but as the minutes passed, she softened, her exhaustion finally dragging her back to sleep.
I stayed awake, my eyes fixed on the ceiling, the rageburning in my chest like a dark, smoldering fire. I couldn’t kill him again, couldn’t rip his ghost from her mind. But I’d bury him, smother his memory until there was nothing left.
She was mine, and no one, living or dead, would ever take her from me again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Iwas sleeping on a cloud. Safe. Protected. Warm. I wanted to curl up to this cloud, and I squeezed it closer to my body. A small groan came from my cloud, breaking my quiet dream.