Page 8 of Dollhouse

Or, I didn't. For the first time in my life, I had someone else to consider. Emma and Bo. What would happen if we were ambushed? Killed? They’d get to her. And I know exactly what would come next.

“Fuck. Fuck it. Let’s go.”

He yanked the wheel, swerving across the median and into oncoming traffic before accelerating wildly. “I’ll call my father and tell him we aren't going. Tell him to get Patrick on authenticating this again before we make another move.”

He nodded, looking relieved as I made the call. My head was fucking swimming. It would piss me off if we turned out to be wrong, but the cost of getting ambushed isn’t one I could afford to pay anymore.

So yeah,all emotions aside, I have no trouble declaring that Emma belongs to me now. Underneath the roiling fury at someone locking her up like an animal, there was the sting of her believing I’d been the one to do it.

Running isn’t an option for her, unfortunately. Not anymore. I have no problem playing the bad guy when it comes to her trying to disappear.

I grip the desk, arms flexing at the thought of her trying to run through the woods, away from the protection I can afford her and into the waiting hands of a fucking predator.

I’ve barely gone in to see her, attempting to give her space to process. It goes against my nature, which wants to sit her down and force her to listen. Things have changed, andnotfor the better. The cabin in the woods had gone from a captivity to a fantasyrealfucking quick. And I’d lost sight of the danger, just long enough for someone to threaten my family.

Fuck this. I’ve given her space, and all she’s doing with it is sinking into this listless, unresponsive sadness. Even Bo was starting to fray at his inability to pull her out of it, despite carrying her from her bed to the shower every day. You know, since she’d hurt her ankle trying to get as far away from me as she could.

That should be me taking care of her. I miss her. I miss the way her eyes train on me when she thinks I’m not looking, or the way her lips part because she secretly loves my filthy mouth. How she hangs on my every action and word like it’s air for her to breathe.Necessaryfor her to carry on.

That’s how she needs me. And that’s how I want her to be. At my side, and in my bed. I need that shiver from her as she submits. I want to taste her hesitance as she considers doing the ever so slightly degrading things I tell her to do for me. I miss the sweet, soft sound of her breathing at night while the horrors of the world race through my head.

She’s my Angel, the only fucking peace I’ve known since I was young. She just needs a reminder, and I’m done pretending I have any patience when it comes to my addiction to her.

Nah, fuck that. I push away from the desk and stalk down the hallway, slamming the door behind me as I head for the room she’s cocoon’d herself in.

Muffled voices are inside, but right now it’s just hers and Bo’s. Normally Jesse’s is tangled with theirs since he’s accepted Bo won’t leave her side. Just the three of them, thick as thieves, while I try to figure out who’s fucking us over from the inside.

I push the door open harder than I need to and they both freeze, her in the bed and him sprawled on the floor with a stack of books between them.

Bo notes the look on my face and tries to bite back a smirk, failing miserably. Always thinking shit is funny when it’s not. “I’ll see myself out.”

Emma’s wide eyes lock on me as he shuts the door behind him.

That pretty flush is already creeping up her neck. That’s right, she hasn’t forgotten for a second how I make her feel. “Why are you still avoiding me, Emma?”

She swallows, licking her lips as she shakes her head.

I cock mine to the side, and she flinches. “I didn’t hurt you. I’m not the monster here, and you should know this by now.”

Her mouth opens, then clicks shut. The hesitance, after hearing her speaking so freely with Bo through the door, it cuts deep. “Still too scared to talk to me, huh? But everyone else is fine. Should I just leave and invite Bo back in?”

Her eyes squeeze shut, shaking her head again. “Stop. I just—you don’t understand.”

“Then fuckingmakeme understand.”

“It’s just…not that simple!”

“The hell it’s not. Speak, Em.” When her hands grip the sheets, I growl, frustration tightening every part of me until I feel I’m strung way too fucking tight. “Goddamnit,talkto me. This is killing me.”

“You make it impossible!” she shouts, looking surprised at herself. “I don’t work like that. I–” She falters, wetting her lip. “The harder you push, it’s like my mind goes blank. I can’t talk to you when you’re angry. Can youpleasejust stop?”

I clench my jaw, biting back the venom on my tongue and daring her to pretend I’m not trying.Thisgoes completely against everything that I am. I’ve never reigned myself in for anybody, it’s always been take me as I am or get fucked.

But for her? I’ve softened. Ifeelagain, even if what I'm feeling now is terrifying. Whether she realizes it or not, she has the power to hurt me. To fucking gut me, just with the decision to keep her distance.

The room fills with a cold silence and it makes me desperate. My body wants to pin her hands to the pillow and fuck some life back into her sad eyes. My head just wants to shield her from the sharp world she’s found herself in.

It must be hard, going from thinking the world is all flowers and fucking sunshine to…this. This darker reality that mostpeople don’t have the guts to look at, and she’s been thrust into the very heart of it.