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I wiggle my hands deeper. “No, you’ve seen enough of my blood.”

“I won’t get tired of seeing any part of you.” He smacks his hand down onto my thigh, those delicate rolling fingers now jabbing into me. “Don’t you want your precious Kelter back?”

“It’s a fucking splinter. What does that have to do with Kelter? You can’t hold him over my head for everything.”

“Because he’s not even here, and the little fucker had you crying on the floor.”

“Youhad me on the floor, struggling to breathe.” I glance down at his straining hand. I should pry it off me, I should. But the way it tremors…It’s as though whatever is hidden inside him is trying to escape through his fingers.

“Struggling to breathe is better than having someone breathe for you.” His palm pushes down, his grasp strengthening along with his harsh tone.

“What is your problem?”

“I’d rather rescue someone worth my time.” The whole room is a purple haze. He frees my leg and flips his hand over. “Let me see.”

It could be the teva, or the rain-scented breeze that kisses my cheeks, but I jigger my hand out from under me and put it in his, as cold as his eyes.

He holds my hand up to his face, inspecting the splinter in my throbbing finger.

“It’s big.” He gives me a sideways look.

“You tend to think things are bigger than they are.” I roll my eyes to his lap. “Get on with it.”

With another puff on the roll, he clamps his hands over mine, encasing it in cold stone. Holding my outstretched finger like a lethal spear before him, he brings it to his mouth. With animal-like quickness, he bares his teeth, presses them against my finger and draws out the fat splinter. He spits the sliver of wood onto the floor, my finger birthing a beautiful, round, swelling drop of blood before he sucks the whole thing into his mouth. His tongue compresses the open wound, and his teeth bite into my skin.

“What are you doing?” I shriek and pull, but I’m trapped. He elbows away the attack of my other hand and ducks out of reach, standing and dragging me around with him, refusing to release me. My finger pulses inside the wet rolling cave. He might bite the thing off, rings and all, and swallow it whole. “Let go!”

He doesn’t. He sucks harder, cheeks caving in, jaw working. And my depraved little mind only sends me images of that same busy mouth between my legs.

“Stop!” I yell—at both of us.

The heat of his mouth radiates around my finger. The throbbing fades, and he rips it out with a pop and a swallow.

“What is going on in your head?” I scold him, not believing my eyes and backing away as I cradle my wrinkled finger to my chest. My anger fights against the lingering effect of the teva, but it’s enough to send me running to the locked door.

“Let me out.” I grab the metal handle, rattling it up and down in desperate yanks, apparently to remind myself that I’m trapped. I flip back around.

Purple smoke billows from his mouth again. He waves it away so he can see me, then wipes the blood from the corners of his mouth.Myblood. “We’re even now.”

I stomp up to him and grab a fistful of his white shirt. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“A taste for a taste.” He takes another toke, face relaxed, serene. So smug.

I could kill him. I don’t have to wait for a vision to watch him die. I only need something sharp enough to get through his arrogant skin. I pull his shirt tighter, wishing I weren’t full of empty threats. “My tongue on your hand is not the same as sucking my finger for fun.”

“You’re right. We’re not even. You owe me now.” He tosses a glance at my fist, then bites back a smirk.

Fuck that. “You wanted to taste me? I’m sure you could have picked something better than my finger, coward.”

“Next time.” He licks his lips and disappears behind a puff of purple smoke.

I hate this gorgeous man.

Chapter

Nineteen

Visions come throughout each day, and with so many hours locked up, I’m gifted with plenty of time to contemplate the possibilities of Kelt’s situation—none close to rational.