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I shake my head and can’t help but smile. “There are four of you, right?”
He nods.
“What’s it like to have brothers?”
“A pain in the ass, most of the time.”
“And are your parents still alive?”
For the first time since we’ve met, he looks away. “Both dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You went through the same thing and survived, Serenity. Human beings are adaptable.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I get up, excusing myself. I don’t want to talk about this.
I walk to the back of the plane, trying to find the bathroom, but I end up opening a bedroom door. I try to turn around to leave, but before I can do so, he grabs my arm.
“Did I say the wrong thing?” Instead of going back to the main cabin, he makes me enter the suite, closes the door, and leans against it.
“I’m tired of adapting. I’ve done it my whole life. I learned to pretend at five, the day they dropped me off at that school.”
“Serenity . . .”
“How old were you when your parents died?”
“I was already an adult.”
I wrap my arms around my body to stop the tremors. I don’t want to break down in front of him, but between being admitted to the hospital for the attempt on my life and saying goodbye to JeAnne, I’m feeling fragile.
“What do you think is better?” I ask. “Not remembering your parents, as if they never existed, or suffering from a conscious loss?”
“Come here, Serenity.”
I shake my head and take a step back. “I don’t want your pity. I just asked you a question.”
He comes closer. “I don’t feel sorry for people. I wasn’t kidding when I said that. But it’s certainly not pity that I’m feeling right now.”
My legs soften. “Is it anger?” I keep walking backwards, not because I want to run away but because instinct tells me he’s a predator, and I like the idea of being hunted.
In just two steps, he is on me. His huge arm wraps around my waist, and I can feel every muscle in his body. “Don’t play with me. You won’t like the consequences.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He slaps me on the butt, and to my shame, instead of screaming, I moan with my eyes closed.
“Damn, Serenity!” Ares lets go of me and takes a step back.
This time, I’m the one moving forward. “What did I do wrong?”
“You can’t be that naïve.”
“I’m a little girl, remember? Or will you swallow your pride and admit that—" I stop talking when his hand cups my chin.
“What will I admit?”