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His push knocks me backward a fourth time.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You.”
“Me? What did I do? Except fall on my ass four times?”
“You’re not meant to fight. You’re not strong enough.” The bitter bite of his words slaps hard. “This was a stupid idea.”
“Yesterday, you took your time. I missed that mark at least four dozen times, and you were patient. Today? You’re acting like a … an asshole!”
“You’re weak!”
“I’m not weak!” I scramble to my feet again and give one hard shove to his stomach, failing to move him. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Because you’re driving me fucking nuts! Your tits in my face, and your sickeningly sweet scent so far up my nose, it’s corrupted my brain!”
“Wait.” I shake my head, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “You’re angry because you’re attracted to me?”
“Yes! No!”
“Is it no, or is it yes?”
“Yes. I’m attracted. I crave. And I’m trying like hell to keep my hands off you, but you’re making this shit impossible.”
“I’m not the one telling you to keep your hands off me. In fact, I’ve pretty much all but laid out a welcome mat.”
“And I wouldn’t take if you begged.”
Brow quirked, I stare up at him. “Is that so?” I roll my shoulders back, a move that juts my chest out further into his face, until he can no doubt see the hard peaks of my nipples sticking through. His jaw tics. When he still doesn’t make a move, I shrug my shoulder just enough that the strap falls down my arm, the thin veil of cotton in front hanging on for dear life. Nabbing the canteen, I kick back a too big sip, letting the fluids trickle down my chest, saturating the fabric.
With his neck straining, shoulders bunched, I can practically see his restraint on the verge of snapping.
“Stop this. I’m warning you.”
“Warning me of what? It’s a warm day. I’m merely trying to cool myself.”
“Why are you trying to seduce me?”
“Because I crave, too. I miss being touched. Being desired.”
Eyes narrowed, he scoffs. “Oh, right. You’ve not been the coveted virgin Daughter in a few days. You miss that attention.”
Without a word, I stride up to him and slam my fists hard against his solid chest, which fails to move him. “Fuck you, Titus,” I grit, and when I whirl to walk away, he snatches up my wrist.
With a growl, I wrench my arm to break free, but he pulls me tighter.
“You want to be fucked by an Alpha? Because we’re not gentle lovers, Thalia. We fuck like the savage animals we were bred to be.”
“That’s not you. You’re not violent like that.”
“Not violent? Did you forget I murdered your friend?”
“Because you had to. You had no choice.”
“Didn’t I? Why didn’t I snap Agatha’s neck instead?”
A question that has admittedly swirled in my head a few times. One I’ve tamped down because there doesn’t seem to be an answer for it. Not even now. “You tell me.”
