Page 40 of Carnal Urges

Jerk. Will you please come in here and talk to me?

Why?

I’m bored.

If only that were lethal.

Stop being mean to me!

Give me one good reason why.

I chew my lip before answering, I think I’m scared.

He doesn’t answer. I don’t know why I was expecting he would. I pace around the room, chewing my lip and imagining what death by brain bleed would look like, until the door opens and Declan walks in.

With his hand still on the knob, he says, “If that was a lie, I’ll open that window and push you out.”

Why does he have to be such an asshole? Such ahandsomeasshole, which is somehow even worse.

“I’ve never been sick a day in my life, and now my brain is bleeding, and my memory is going, and I’m fainting like one of those stupid goats, and my head hurts like someone’s been jackhammering it, and I’m probably going to die with onlyyoufor company. Can you blame me for being upset?”

His eyes are narrowed, doubtful, arctic blue.

I throw my hands in the air. “I’m not invincible!”

“So that deal you made with the devil for the power to kill with run-on sentences didn’t include immortality?”

I stare at him with my heart beating hard and anger working its way up my throat. “You know what? Forget it. Go back to your fulfilling mobster lifestyle of kidnapping innocent people and murdering your enemies and generally making the world a much shittier place, and forget I said a damn thing.”

I turn and walk as far away from him as I can go, to the wall of windows on the opposite side of the room. Then I stand with my back to him and my arms wrapped around myself, trying for the first time since I was a fat little kid getting bullied on the playground to hold back tears.

I hate him for this.Nobodymakes me cry.

When I hear the door close, I release a breath and bow my head, closing my eyes and cursing myself for showing weakness.

“It’s just that you don’t seem like you have a vulnerable bone in your body, lass.”

The voice is warm, soft, and comes from directly behind me. The bastard snuck up on me while I was busy feeling sorry for myself.

“Go away.”

“That’s not what you wanted two minutes ago.”

“Two minutes ago, I didn’t hate your guts.”

“No? I feel sorry for the people whose guts you do hate if this is what younothating them looks like.”

I groan and bang my forehead against the window a few times.

He pulls me away from the glass and says softly, “Stop. You’ll hurt your head.”

“It’s already hurt, thanks to you.”

“I told you I wasn’t the one who dropped you.”

“Stop talking. You’re making my headache worse.”

His hands had been around my upper arms, but now they slide up to my shoulders and rest lightly there. He’s quiet behind me, as if he’s mulling something over.