Page 19 of Toxic

“Saymyname.”

I wish I weren’t trembling. Showing him any vulnerability is only asking for him to exploit it. “Please.”

Hegrowls.

“I—”

“Sayit.”

“G-Gracin.”

“Excellent, little mouse. Now tell me why you came. Tell me why you look like you’re about to fly out ofyourskin.”

Knowing that silence is my only safe option, I shakemyhead.

His hold on my wrist gentles and I can feel his breath on my jaw. “Tellme.”

“You wereright.”

“Good girl.” He nearly groans it. The blatant sexuality in the sound is almost too much to bear. “How was Iright?”

I should be worried about the officers, about my job, about my sanity, but there is no room for anything butGracin.

“I stood uptohim.”

“To your husband?” he asks, though, from the smug expression on his face, he knows who I’m talkingabout.

I try, and fail, to stop the shivers that wrack my body because of his proximity. Focusing with him near is futile. “He tried to . . . he tried to hurt meagain.”

His sneer is as sharp and lethal as a blade to the throat. “I bet he did.” There is a beat of silence before he asks, “What did you do? Did you hurt him? Hmm, little mouse?” The last word is soft, nearly purred inmyear.

“I tried to.” My voice is barely even a croak, but my words light him up. “I was making dinner, and he came at me. I didn’t mean to cut him, but I was holding a knife, and hewouldn’tstop.”

“Don’t be ashamed,” he says when my gaze drops from his. “He’s the one who should be ashamed. No man should put his hands on awoman.”

I look pointedly at him and raise an eyebrow even though his record never indicated anything of the sort. “I would never hurt you, little mouse. That’s why you cametome.”

“I came because I’m an idiot.” I try to put energy into my voice, but there is none left. “What do you want from me? What game are youplaying?”

“I’m playing a most dangerous game, and you’re the prize. Our deal is off, Tessa. I want you, and I’ll take you any way I cangetyou.”

Breath strangles in my throat. “I won’t—I can’t do thatagain.”

“Liar,” he croons as the fingers not wrapped around my wrist trace the fading bruise on my lip. “You're not upset because you didn't like it. You're angry because youlovedit.”

Protests stick in my throat, and I’m about to answer when the alarms sound. Someone must have reported us after all. My response is drowned out by shrill screams from the sirens. Time’s up. I glance back at him, and his smile is slow and predatory. He's scented blood and is preparing forthekill.

“Tell me,” he yells from his cage. “You come back and tell me, little mouse, if he doesn't look at you differently. If he doesn't have a gleam of respect in his eyes the next time he attempts tohurtyou.”

“I won'tdothat.”

His grin gains a razor-sharp edge, eyes glinting with the red alarm lights as they flash. Officers finally burst through the doors and race down the hallway, but I can't hear the shouts over my panicked thoughts and thundering heartbeat. They rush by me to unlock the door to his cell, and he releases me, backing away with his hands held over his head in a supplicating gesture that we all know is only for show. Even though he’s the one behind bars, somehow he still holds all thepower.

He keeps my gaze locked with his, and I take an automatic step in retreat. No matter how much distance I put between us, I can still feel his handsonme.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, little mouse. They cleared me for workdetail. ”

“Are you okay?”Annie asks as she relieves me a few hourslater.