Page 102 of Ashen Torment
I bite my lip out of anger, bitterness filling my mouth.
“Don’t tighten your lips like that.”
“Like what?”
“You are dangerous, Viscount,” he says, without taking his gaze off me.
“As long as you stay away from me, disorder will be avoided.”
“But I have no intention of staying away from you.”
“Why?”
His gaze slides to my lips, then rises with precision to my temples.
“Has the pain passed?”
My breathing is ragged, I force myself to keep my voice steady. “What pain? You’re delusional.”
“I can smell the laudanum on your body,” he adds, lowering his voice, “something must torment you. Besides... you’ve touched your temples often.”
I remain motionless, my palm still suspended near my forehead. “Smell it—What are you, a dog?”
Fou psychopathe.
“You don’t like dogs?”
“Not particularly.”
I cannot maintain the gaze, his control is oppressive.
“Well?”
“Do not take advantage of my kindness. Let me go.”
“Say please.”
What on earth is this fool saying?
“Let—”
He pulls me abruptly toward him.
“You must say please.”
“Stop it.”
“Be good, say it.”
“Please... go to hell.”
His eyes fly wide, his gaze falling to my lips, he releases my wrist slowly and slides the handkerchief from my hands.
“Since you won’t accept a gift from me...” he points to the book on the sofa, “let’s make an exchange.”
“I have nothing to give you, and more important I want nothing from you.”
He lifts the handkerchief between his fingers and turns away.
