Page 16 of Shattered King

She looked away. “I have nothing to tell you. I know nothing. Keeping me here is a waste of time.”

I let my gaze move over her face, down to her tits. A whimper echoed through the kitchen and my gaze sliced back to hers. Fuck, did that sound make my dick hard. The mix of helpless and hungry pushed all my buttons and that pissed me the hell off. “Maybe you and I have a few other things to discuss. What do you think, Lulu?” I could try and pretend this was only about finding the painting, about finding Pierce, but that wasn’t the real reason I’d brought her here. I wanted . . . no, fucking needed her to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.

She shook her head jerkily, a desperate look in her gray eyes. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“No? Not even why you stabbed me in the back? Why you lied to the cops?”

She bit her lip again, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

The rage that shot though me was unexpected, hitting hard and fast. My blood pressure shot to boiling point, and I fucking exploded. Picking up one of the chairs sitting around the table, I threw it against the wall. The wood splintered, the crash deafening. I hissed a breath out through my teeth. “You really are nothing but a heartless bitch, aren’t you?”

Her hands were braced against the table, body shoved back as far as she could go, visibly shaking. Fuck, I hated that she was scared of me and took pleasure in it at the same time. Yeah, I’d turned into one sick fuck. She’d made me this way. But then, betrayal, an unquenchable thirst for revenge, does that to a man.

Gritting my teeth, I sucked in a breath through my nose. I couldn’t fucking stand to look at her right then. I didn’t want to look at that perfect skin, those big gray eyes, that soft curvy body. The woman was fucking with my head, with my body. I hated her, and wanted her underneath me. Wanted to dump her ass at her stepfather’s doorstep and never look back—while the clawing need to take her home with me and never let her out of my sight again was a twisted, painful grip inside my gut.

Striding over, I undid her cuff, grabbed her arm and dragged her though the living room.

“H-Hunter . . .” she stuttered.

I pushed her through the open bathroom door, slammed it shut and locked it. Shoving my hands in my hair, I fought to get my shit together.

Fought not to open that door and make her beg for my forgiveness.

Not to throw her on her back and make her beg me to fuck her.

Shit.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lulu

I hissed out a breath. “Shit.”

Blood bubbled up under my fingernail, but I ignored it, carried on working on the small window above the toilet. Hunter hadn’t cuffed me this time. He also hadn’t searched me. I discovered the spare key for Sara’s house was good for more than opening doors. Whoever had decorated the small bathroom had painted the window shut. The paint was old and thick, coming off in sharp flakes, but the key was cutting through it easily. Only one side left and I should be able to pry it open.

I hadn’t heard Hunter since he locked me back in here. But it was only a matter of time before he came back. I had to get away. Josh needed me.

Panic rose up inside me again and I fought it back down. I needed to keep a clear head.

Hunter hadn’t hurt me, though he’d had plenty of opportunity. I believed him when he said he’d let me go. And no matter what, I had no intention of going to the cops. Whatever this was, he was going easy on me, and we both knew it. I deserved a lot worse than being locked in a bathroom.

But there was another threat. One I had no defense against. I could feel it building between us, breaking through the harsh words and the disgusted looks. It was volatile and fierce. So hot it had the ability to burn me alive. If he chose to act on it, not fight it like I knew he was, I wouldn’t be able to say no. I could never say no to him.

I couldn’t let that happen, for my own sanity.

If he touched me like that . . .

I jammed the key into the dried paint, slicing and chipping at it. I couldn’t allow myself to think about that, or I might give up. I might put the key back in my pocket and do nothing. I might sit here and wait for him to come for me. I might let it happen. I squeezed my eyes closed.

Shit.

How did I become this, this weak, broken person? Hunter might hate me, but not as much as I hated myself.

I don’t know how long it took, but I’d been in here all day—working on the window for half of that time at least. My fingers were cramping, but finally I’d removed enough of the paint around the sides to open it. Shoving the key in my pocket, I grabbed the latch and tested it. The thing barely moved. Gripping the latch with both hands, I pushed as hard as I could. It opened with a loud squeak. I paused, listening, holding my breath.

Nothing.

I went up on my tiptoes on the toilet seat, pulling the window open farther, and poked my head and shoulders through. It was dark outside, silent apart from the rustling leaves and the sound of insects chirping. I wriggled and dragged myself up to my waist. The intense darkness, the lack of sound that wasn’t bug or tree related, gave me pause. I didn’t know where I was, had no way of getting away. My only option was to go on foot and hope like hell I didn’t get lost, that another car came along so I could hitch a ride.