Page 17 of Killian (The Doherty Mafia)
Great. Even more reasons to hate myself.
“Eat this,” he said, glaring at me from under his sharp brows.
There was a paper plate with some slices of bread and scrambled eggs. Another juice box.
I wasn’t going to demean myself by scoffing it down in front of him. In fact, I’d already decided I wouldn’t eat anything. Maybe going on a hunger strike might have changed his mind about keeping me imprisoned. I hoped.
“I’m not eating anything you give me,” I hissed back.
Killian searched my eyes, and for a moment I thought he was going to grab me and force the food down my throat.
Again, I felt that shiver of excitement run down my spine at the thought of him grabbing me. His body against mine. My breasts pressed up against his chest. My pussy was wet already.
“Fine. You don’t have to. Then I don’t need to bring any food down for you,” he replied, picking up the food.
I felt my stomach drop. I was hungry already and didn’t know how long I’d last without anything to eat. But now that I’d declared it, I’d have to stick by it.
So I stuck my chin up and shrugged.
“Great. I hope I’ll have to see you less too,” I said.
A soft smile curled on the edges of his lips. But instead of giving me an actual smile, he snarled at me instead.
“That’s cute,” he replied, before walking out of the room.
The lock on the door outside made me shudder. I needed to find a way to get out of here. Fast.
* * *
What was I thinking? How did I convince myself that he’d actually give a crap whether I ate or not. In fact, he was probably pleased I was refusing to eat. If I died from hunger and starvation, I’d just make the job easier for him, right? He wouldn’t have to do the dirty work.
I didn’t know how long I hadn’t eaten, but it felt like days.
I knew it hadn’t been that long, but it sure felt like it.
I was so desperate and hungry that I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream.
It took every last cell of energy in my being to not scream his name, to not beg him for food.
I cried out with joy when I heard the door open again.
Killian stormed down the steps, peering at me. I jumped up and came towards him. He must have seen the look on my face. I’d never been this excited to see him before.
I lifted my hands up to my head, pressing my forehead. A dull ache throbbed at the back of my head. I still didn’t want to admit how hungry I was. I still didn’t want to give in.
“Are you here to check on me?” I asked.
Killian had a disturbing habit of saying nothing. His long deep silences made me uncomfortable, forced me to speak and fill in the gaps.
I went towards him but he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. I noticed the way his biceps tightened under the fabric of his shirt. What would those arms feel like if wrapped around me?
“Something like that,” he replied.
I waited for him to say more, but he wasn’t going to. It looked like he was waiting too. For me to finally admit it.
A war of the minds ensued between us. A war that he knew he would win. My hunger strike didn’t last long and it made me feel weak. I thought I was stronger than that.
I glanced down at my feet, refusing to meet his eyes as I said the words.
“It looks like you have something to ask me,” he finally said.
“I…I guess I want to apologize for what I said before. I shouldn’t have…I guess I should be more grateful for what you’ve done for me. What you’re doing…”
When I looked up and met his eyes again, I saw his face had softened a little.
Was he buying it? Did he actually believe I was grateful for him?
“Yeah, you should be grateful, but we both know you’re not.” Again, he spoke in that chillingly calm voice.
My nostrils flared in protest but there wasn’t a thing I could say. I didn’t know how he did it, but he always managed to see right through me.
“I’d be more grateful if you just told me what you want from me,” I snapped.
“Right now, I want you to admit you’re hungry and that you want me to feed you.”
I forced the lump down my throat. My lips were dry. That gnawing feeling heightened in the pit of my stomach. I was dehydrated to the point of passing out.
“I’m hungry.” I spoke meekly and he smiled.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a fat candy bar.
“You deserve a treat for that,” he said, tossing it in my direction.
I was already salivating by the time I caught it.
