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My mumbling must have amused him, since I saw a flash of his perfect white teeth for a nanosecond. Paired with his dark hair and icy eyes, he looked like a Siberian husky — one who was two seconds away from devouring me.
“I should have done this a long time ago,” he murmured. His gaze dropped to my mouth and he ran his fingertips across my lips. There was a barrier between them, which led me to believe it was tape, not glue, that kept me silent.
The angry “Fuck you” I tried to throw at him didn’t sound anything like what it needed to, but I think I got my point across with the death glare I gave him. Yeah, sure, he was hot as hell but I wasn’t going to lay there while he molested me or whatever the fuck he thought he was going to do.
He chuckled quietly and looked up, brushing his hand over the side of my head. His fingers touched something on my forehead and a burning sensation jolted through the left side of my body.
I winced and jerked back, glaring again. What the fuck was that? My head was pounding, but what in God’s name was theburningall about?
Ignoring me like usual, he rifled through a plastic grocery bag and pulled out the rudiments of another first aid kit. Wiping around my temple, pad after pad came away with crusty brown blood.
Then I remembered.
He hit me with the gun. Again — like he had in the bank. Motherfucker. That was twice now. If I survived this ordeal and had any permanent brain damage, I’d know exactly who to blame.
Blistering pain shot across my lips when I wasn’t paying attention. Without warning, he ripped the tape off and held two pills out to me, pinched between his fingers.
I bit my lips with a whimper and opened them slowly, mindful of any adhesive residue. “Thank you,” I snapped, because I knew it would piss him off.
Predictably, he responded by glaring and holding up the pills, like I couldn’t see them without his impatient reminder.
I eyed them warily. “What is it?”
“Pain killers,” he replied through gritted teeth.
“You’re a sadist,” I hissed at him. “You knock me out and then you bandage me up and give me medicine? What the fuck is your endgame?”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “I don’t want to listen to you whine. So we can do this nicely, ornot.”
Fair enough.
I leaned forward and opened my mouth.
He slipped his fingers inside, depositing the pills on my tongue. His piercing gaze was locked on mine the entire time. If he was worried I was going to bite him, it didn’t show. At all. And by God was I tempted. If I wasn’t currently chained to the bed like Jesus, I might have done it.
His fingertip grazed the edge of my tongue on the way back out. For a moment I thought I saw something in his eyes that wasn’t outright anger, but before I could even begin to imagine what it was, it was gone again.
Uncapping a bottle of water, he held it out at an angle and motioned me forward. When I tipped my chin up, he poured some of the ice-cold liquid in, a bit at a time, until I had enough to swallow the pills.
They probably hadn’t even made it through my esophagus when he pulled out a roll of duct tape and ripped off another piece.
“No! Wait!” I leaned back as far as I could, like I could avoid the inevitable. “You don’t have to do that.”
He arched a disbelieving eyebrow.
“I won’t talk,” I said quickly, licking my lips. Pretty sure they were missing the top layer of skin now. “If—”
“If?” Both eyebrows went up. “You don’t make demands.”
“If you’d please let me take a shower,” I continued. “I’ve been in these clothes for… I don’t know how long. I just want a shower. That’s all.”
Instead of growling out a “No” right away, he packed up the garbage from his impromptu patch job, his dark brows furrowed.
I watched him in silence, waiting. He didn’t give any indication one way or the other what his decision would be.
When he leaned over me again, I was hopeful. Then he picked up the piece of tape and slapped it over my mouth.
Motherfucker!
