Page 20

Vane loomed over me like a living shadow, hulking, weapons hidden in the dark. I lifted my chin, hiding my terror behind a defiant glare.
Fear. The daughter of Walter Bates didn’t feel fucking fear. It was a weakness I’d buried years ago, along with a slew of others. The trick to surviving men like my father was to feel nothing at all.
But Vane wasn’t a normal man.
He moved like a shadow, too, slow, smooth, predatory, like he had all the time in the world. I knew what men did to women when they were alone and helpless.
My pulse hammered in my throat. My wrists ached as I fruitlessly tugged against the ropes, hoping to slip free before Vane could touch me.
He crouched in front of me. I forgot how to breathe, and I hated myself for it.
Then his hand—the one smeared with his own blood—came up and his knuckles scraped over my jaw like he was just curious to see if it would make me recoil.
But I’d be damned if I gave him the satisfaction.
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Neither did he.
The rough, split skin of his fingers felt ugly on mine. When the pad of his thumb ghosted over my lower lip, it was like sandpaper.
I jerked my head away, gnashing my teeth. To my surprise and relief, Vane withdrew.
Only slightly.
Vane bared his teeth, snow-white against his dark skin, and some part of me knew he could chomp another man’s thumb off and never lose that smile. “Look at that,” he said under his breath, husky and dangerous. “Wolverines really do bite.” His gaze roamed my face. “But I’ll take my chances while your claws are sheathed.”
Vane’s fingers slid into my unbound hair. They twirled around a fistful, twisting slowly, tugging slightly. Maybe testing it to see how easy it would be to drag me by the roots. My jaw locked so tightly it hurt.
He would have to untie me first. Then I’ll show him what my claws can do.
I wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
Vane ignored me and leaned closer. His breath was hot and smelled like smoke. Disgusting fucking habit. I jerked at my bonds again. If I could just kick his shin?—
“Your father didn’t give me ground rules,” Vane said, sliding his fingers free only to stroke his knuckles down my neck. I’d been stripped of my jacket when I got to the warehouse after the Lair, so I was only in a gray tank top and jeans. “Must’ve done it on purpose. More important things to do than reprimand his baby girl. Must’ve known… how I’ve been wanting company.”
I stiffened when both hands were on me, sliding down my arms with perverse reverence. When they reached my thighs, his thumbs pressing down the inside of my thighs, that was where I drew the line.
No man touched me without my permission.
I didn’t think. I just acted.
With every ounce of hatred boiling in my chest, I snapped my head forward and drove my skull right into the bastard’s nose.
The crack split the air like gunfire, making my stomach churn.
Stars burst behind my eyes as pain exploded in my forehead like I’d slammed my head into a brick wall. God, that fucking pain…
But it was Vane’s shout of fury that made me unrepentant.
He snarled and stumbled back, blood already running hot and fast between his fingers as he cupped his nose. “You fucking bitch,” he growled nasally.
My head pulsed like my skull had been cracked down the middle, but I blinked past the throbbing to glare at him. “Fucking bastard,” I spat back. “Touch me again, and I’ll?—”
“You’ll stay fucking still for me, woman,” Vane began, turning to lunge toward me.
I braced myself for a blow that never came.