Page 72

“Have you eaten?” he asks, taking a couple of steps toward me.
I fight the urge to move backward. “No.”
I haven’t eaten since yesterday, before all of this came out. Anytime I even think about food, it turns my stomach.
“Come.” He gestures toward a hallway, which I’m assuming is the way to the kitchen.
I don’t move. “I’m not hungry. Can you show me where I’ll be staying?”
Satisfaction rushes through me when his jaw twitches. “You’ll be staying in my room.”
“No, I’m not.”
He moves forward again and this time doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me. So close that I can smell his oceanic scent. It’s the same scent as my devil’s when he came to visit me. How the hell did Ryker mask it so well when he was near me? I would have certainly recognized it had he not.
“You say that as if you’ve got a choice,” he says, his voice a gravelly caress across my skin. “You’ll be in my room, even if I have to chain you to my bed.”
I ignore the way his words affect me. I donotwant to be chained to his bed.
I do not.
“Do you plan to rape me?” I ask.
One side of his mouth curves up.
“It won’t be necessary. You’ve been foaming at the mouth for a chance to bounce on my cock. I’m willing to bet that, despite the change in our relationship, that hasn’t changed.” He drops his head closer. “But if the situation warrants it…” He trails off.
I look into his eyes. The stormy gray matches the cloud cover outside. I’ve always found them beautiful. As my devil, it was always too dark for me to see them. I wonder if he wore contacts just in case. He obviously masked his scent and altered his voice, so the notion of him wearing contacts is plausible.
“You would really rape me? Force yourself on me?”
“You’ll find, Vicious—” I can smell mint on his breath when he puts his face in mine, “—that there are no limits of what I’ll do to have you.”
I hate myself when my legs automatically clench together at his dark confession.
“Now,” he straightens, “follow me to the kitchen so I can feed you.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.
“Do it willingly, or I’ll tie you to the chair and put a fucking IV in you. Either way, you and our baby will have the proper nutrients to remain healthy.”
He doesn’t give me time to respond before he spins around and leaves me standing there. I’m tempted to flip his back the bird and go in the opposite direction, away from food and the kitchen, but I stop myself. He’s right. I’m not just eating for myself anymore. I’ve got a little life growing inside me that depends on me.
Dragging my feet like a petulant child, I trail behind him. I don’t have the energy or the interest at the moment to take in my surroundings—I’ll explore later—so I ignore everything as I walk down the dark hallway and come to a swinging door. It doesn’t squeak or make any sound when I push it open.
The kitchen I walk into is huge, which is to be expected in a house this size. It’s obviously been refurbished and updated. The walls are a muted gray, the tiled floor white, and the appliances are stainless steel. In the center of the kitchen is a huge butcherblock island with a sink bigger than I’ve ever seen before, and the other side works as a bar.
Ryker is standing at an oversized fridge, his hand holding the handle as he looks over the contents. He pulls out a bowl covered with a lid and sets it on the counter behind him, then turns back to look for something else.
“Do you have a cook?” I ask, taking one of the seats at the bar.
“We,” he answers. “There is no you and me anymore. Yes,wehave a cook, but I let her have the night off.”
I grit my teeth. It’s on the tip of my tongue to smart off, but I need to pick my battles. This one isn’t worth fighting.
After grabbing another container and setting it down, he closes the fridge and goes to the cabinet beside it, where he pulls out two plates. After plating some mixed salad and grabbing a bottle of dressing, he pushes both across the island to me.
“Eat while I heat up the lasagna.”