Page 55 of Feral
“You should know better than to defy me,” I say, trying to cajole her. “If I say I want you to stay here it’s not because I’m afraid I’ll lose you. I know what I’ve asked of you and all you give up to be with me.”
My words seem to have softened her up a little and I reach out to take her small hand in mine. She turns to leave and just as I release her hand, her words, spoken behind her back hit me like a brick in the gut.
“Just don't be an asshole, J, alright? I can’t be your fucking prisoner.”
It's the first time I hear her almost shouting at me and I mentally take a step back, taking in the heated scene.
Chapter 33
Gemma
He's the wickedest man I've ever known.
His looks.
His voice.
The way he commands me and the way he consoles me.
I've never felt so cherished and so controlled at the same time.
My mind wants to defy him and go away with his son just to spite him but my heart falls prey to his undeniable charm and wit.
I want to slap him and then I want to kiss him.
He makes me mad with fury and crazy with lust.
He unravels me in ways I never thought possible.
So, I stay, waiting for him to show me what exactly is so important that couldn't wait until after the trip to the town.
“Come here,” his voice breaks into my thoughts after Bastien has left. “I want to show you something.”
I go to him slowly, hesitantly and he just grabs my hand and drags me to the back end of the house where a single door is locked and bolted. The paint is peeling and the hinges squeak as he opens it.
“This used to be my mom’s bedroom.”
I turn to look at him and his hand is shaking.
“You first,” he adds and I slowly step inside, wondering what I'll find.
The first thing I notice is the pink color on the walls, a color I'd never thought I'd see inside this house. There’s a beautiful, handcrafted crib on the far end of the room, just beside the king-size bed.
A baby's crib.
Although there's little more in terms of furnishings, this room feels like home.
Cozy.
Safe.
There are white, flowy curtains adorning the floor-to-ceiling windows and a mobile hovering over the crib. The sight of it brings tears to my eyes because although he's never come out and said it, I know that he surely must have longed to raise his child with Jenni here. Rumor has it that right after her husband's accident, she lost the baby.
No one's seen her since.
He takes another step forward, his gaze lingering on the empty crib.
“She'd be nine years old today. I built that tiny bed with my bare hands a little after we found out that Jenni was pregnant. I had it moved here from my place a while back. Couldn’t bear to part with it.”
