Page 4 of Don’t Hate Me (Secrets of Ravens Hollow #2)

It earns me a glare from him. “Seven. Obey me, and I will keep you safe. Break the rules, and I can’t promise protection—from me or anyone else.”

That rule, and the way he watches me as he says it, sends a shiver down my spine. What does he mean from him? What would he do to me if I didn’t obey him?

“Eight. You may ask for anything, but I will decide what you get.

“Nine. If you dare to run, I’ll find you. And next time, I will not show such restraint. You need to remember the monsters out there are worse than the beast within these walls.

“Ten. If you want to survive with me, learn to be a good girl and play nice.”

I sit up a little straighter, not sure how to respond to him. Fuck his rules, it’s not my choice to be here.

Before I can tell him as much, a server in a crisp clean uniform with slightly graying hair rolls a trolley into the room, stopping at Orlando’s side to present him with a meal under a gleaming silver cloche.

“Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast, just the way you like it sir,” the kind-looking woman, probably in her mid to late fifties, says.

My stomach rumbles at the delicious smell of fresh bread and eggs wafting through the air. This is what I could smell when I woke up.

She turns toward me and approaches, her trolley squeaking slightly as it wheels along the polished floor.

She’s a cheery kind of woman who looks happy to be going about her job as she smiles at me warmly.

She places a silver tray down in front of me and uncovers the cloche.

“Scrambled eggs, tomatoes, mushroom, and toast for you, my dear.” She beams at me, looking very pleased with herself.

And I can’t help but appreciate her vegetarian option. “Thank you,” I say back, offering her a small smile in return. I won’t be an asshole to these people; it’s not their fault I’m stuck here.

A low growl rumbles from Orlando’s chest, making the hair on my arms stand on end, and I flick my gaze back to him, indignant. I would hardly say a simple “thank you” to his staff for my meal constitutes a real conversation.

She moves on, unaffected by his hostility, taking a pitcher of milk from her tray, along with a jug of fresh coffee.

Again, she serves him first, then she comes down to my end of the table and offers me coffee.

I nod and motion for no milk when she goes to pour the milk.

Just as quickly as she arrives, she leaves, pushing her trolley back out of the room.

I stare down at my food, inhaling deeply.

It smells to die for, but am I actually about to die if I eat it?

Is this what he does? Lures poor, unsuspecting girls into a false sense of security, then he poisons them and rips out their hearts.

Or is he telling me the truth and there is a monster out there far worse than him.

“I didn’t poison your food, Ava.”

My eyes rise quickly to meet his. How did he know what I was thinking? “Stop calling me that. My name is Sloane.”

His eyes dance with amusement, I think happy he got a rise out of me. “Forgive me, Sloane, but we both know who you really are.” He scoops a mouthful of eggs and bacon into his mouth and chews, his eyes not leaving mine.

I glance back at my food, my stomach grumbling.

Here goes nothing, Sloane, guess we’re about to find out if he wants me dead.

But something tells me if he did, I already would be.

He’s not the kind of guy to poison his victims. He probably slits their throat or shoots them right between the eyes.

I swallow the lump in my throat, cutting into my toast with the butter knife he’s trusted me with.

I pile up some fluffy eggs on top, before scooping the whole thing into my mouth.

The creamy, buttery flavor hits my taste buds in a way that makes me moan out loud.

I don’t even care if there is poison in this, I could die happily knowing this delicious meal was my last.

The two of us eat in silence, me focusing on my knife and fork in front of me as I eat each bite so I don’t have to remember where I am and who with.

His stupid rules are swirling around my head.

Even this asshole wants to control me. But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I will just sit here and be his little yes girl. Fuck that shit.

I hear him place his knife and fork down on his plate, and I feel his eyes boring into me.

I cast a quick glance up, regretting it immediately when our eyes meet.

Not able to finish my last mouthful, I place my utensils down and collect my coffee mug.

I sip the hot black liquid, letting it slowly bring me back to life.

A shiver runs over me when I see how bad my wrists look, all cut up from the rough rope.

He has just about broken me. I look like the walking dead today, and I half feel like it as well.

Anxiety swirls within me, and I wish I had my pills to help squish it down.

“What is it, Sloane?” he asks, his deep voice breaking the silence.

Not sure if I should ask for what I need or not, I chew the inside of my lip.

He said I could ask, and I’m not sure how I’ll get through the day without them.

Would he really be so cruel as to stop me from having medication I have been prescribed when he has clearly put so much thought into having everything else I needed prepared for me?

“There is prescription medicine I take every day,” I start.

He nods as if he already knows. “The Lexapro Ricky prescribed you for your anxiety?”

“Yes,” I whisper, hating that he knows so much about me.

He sips his coffee. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“How do you know what medication I take?” I ask, my voice a little shakier than I want it to be.

He pushes his chair back with a screech, stands, and comes around the table, his footsteps echoing slightly as he approaches. His expression is unreadable as he leans into the table beside me.

With my heart kicking up a beat, I stand in a rush, picking up my knife, not wanting him to have the advantage over me again. I’m not sure what the hell I’m going to do with a butter knife, but fuck, it’s something.

He leans his ass against the table, just out of arm’s reach, still watching me.

He doesn’t look at all worried about the knife I’m gripping tightly, but he’s keeping his distance as well, and so he should.

If he’s heard about the medication I’m on, hopefully he knows how good I am with a weapon.

“Are you going to run, treasure?” He asks the question as if he’s taunting me.

Testing me to see how long it takes for me to try.

My heart races, and I grip the knife tighter, wanting desperately to do exactly that. “No.” I stare back at him, waiting to see what the hell he’s about to do.

“I’ve been protecting you for a long time, Sloane. You learn a thing or two when you watch someone’s habits over time. Right now, I see that scared look on your pretty face, those wide brown eyes assessing every aspect of this room, looking for a way out or a weapon to harm me with.”

I raise my chin, not letting him get any sort of advantage over me. “Protecting me, what does that even mean?”

He pushes off the table and moves toward the window, looking out over the ocean.

“Your daddy painted a massive fucking target on your back. One you can’t outrun or escape, no matter how many boyfriends you have shielding you.

I think last night proved that.” He looks back to me, a smug-as-shit expression on his face because he knows he’s the one who took me from right under their noses.

“Your enemies can’t reach you here. If they try, we will know about it and be ready for them.

It’s the benefit of owning this entire island.

There is only one way in or out.” He motions to the jetty were the boat we arrived on was docked last night.

With a heavy sigh, he moves back toward the table, holding out his hand, and I know he wants the knife.

I stare back at him, not ready to give it up just yet. What he’s saying could all just be hot air. I don’t believe he wants to protect me. My eyes narrow, and I grip the knife tighter, ready to launch at him.

“You need to start trusting me.”

My head moves from side to side slowly, telling him there is no way I can trust him. I remember him; he was cruel and callous. He wanted to hurt me, and he would have if it wasn’t for Onyx. “I will never trust the man who attacked me when I was a vulnerable teenager. You disgust me.”

Visible lines appear on his forehead and every muscle in his face tightens, hardening to motherfucking scary. “Give me the fucking knife, Sloane,” he demands with a tight voice. I just triggered his crazy switch. Well, good, he’s been triggering mine since I arrived here.

With a shaky hand, I raise the knife, ready to use it.

“Take me home, asshole,” I demand. Even though I try to be strong, the knife trembles in my hand.

I want to hurt him like he hurt me. Take away whatever he loves most in this world, just like his family did my mother.

I lunge at him, needing to inflict the same pain.

In one swift move, he grabs at me, capturing the wrist holding the knife.

He pulls me into his front, his strong arms wrapping around my chest as my back hits the solid wall of muscle he has under his shirt.

He’s a fucking weapon himself. With his knee, he forces the knife out of my hand, and it clatters to the tile floor below.

I cry out at the loss. That was my chance, and I fucked it up.

“That was your second mistake today. Looks like someone is going to be spending the rest of the day locked up, when we could have taken a nice walk around the island.” I hear the disappointment in his voice, but I don’t give a flying fuck. Every fucking time I can, I will try to escape him.

With me fighting him the entire way back through his house, he drags me back to the room I spent last night in. His hold on me is firm but not unkind or even really rough. It doesn’t need to be, when he’s already so much stronger than I am.

I struggle against him, not making it easy, sinking my teeth into his forearm when he won’t release me. I’m not being locked up again.

He growls out in pain, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on me. Shoving me back inside the room, I fall backwards to the carpeted floor, staring back up at him with so much hate in my body, I feel like I’m going to explode.

“You need to remember who holds the key to everything you want from now on, Sloane. Those pills you so desperately crave have just slipped out of your reach.” He takes a step back, pressing his thumb to the keypad and locking me in.

His furious eyes are still fixed on me through the glass.

“Take some time to think over my rules. Then maybe at dinner you will be a little better behaved.”

My pulse goes nuts as panic takes over. Fuck. I curl up in a ball and try to block it all out. Him, my current situation, his stupid rules and the spiraling thoughts that now consume my mind.