That’s when she punched me in the stomach, and it wasn’t a girly punch, either.
Christ.
It f**king hurt.
Em glared at me, backing away slowly. She had her fists up and was balanced lightly on her toes, clearly ready to defend herself. Cute. But if she was a martial arts specialist of some kind, I hadn’t seen any evidence over the past six months.
Jesus, you sound like a f**king stalker, ass**le.
I suppose I was.
“Glad you didn’t go for my nuts,” I commented, taking in the sight of her. Boobs out, pink ni**les all hard, teasing me. Shit. Maybe a second round wasn’t out of the question?
“Next time I’ll rip your dick off,” she muttered, eyes narrowing. Okay, so round two was definitely out for now. Noted. Still, fearsome Em was f**kin’ adorable. Kind of like a really angry baby mouse.
“What were you trying to do, anyway?” she demanded.
“I want to sleep,” I told her. “You need sleep, too, and it’s more comfortable without jeans. That’s it, babe, no big, evil plan to get you out of your clothes. It’s gonna be a long haul, you should rest while you can. God knows what’ll happen tomorrow.”
“My dad’s killing you tomorrow,” she muttered, but she didn’t sound entirely happy about it. Interesting.
“You sound almost sad,” I said. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided I should live after all?”
“Fuck you.”
“That an invitation?”
She turned away from me and started doing up her corset-thingy, which was a damned shame. Then I caught a glimpse of the bandage and sobered.
“You in any pain?”
“It’s fine,” she muttered. “You aren’t sleeping in here, are you?”
“Yeah,” I told her. “Don’t worry, I’ll share the covers with you.”
Em cocked her head at me.
“Why don’t you put me in with Sophie?” she asked. “I’ll bet she’s scared.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Scared?”
“That’s a dick question, under the circumstances,” she muttered. “I guess it was all a lie between us, but please don’t think that because I was stupid enough to fall for your shit once means I’m actually stupid, okay? I’m not going to talk this out with you and give you more information, or let you play with me for your own entertainment.”
Now that was a shame. My c**k liked the idea of playing with her quite a bit . . . But she was right—this wasn’t a game, we weren’t friends, and I shouldn’t f**k with her head any more than I had to.
Had to respect her for that.
“Okay, lie down,” I told her bluntly. “I’m going to cuff your wrist to the bed. Then I’m going to sleep and so are you. Don’t fight with me and I won’t play games. This isn’t a negotiation.”
I saw something cross her face . . . Disappointment? Maybe. Or resignation.
Either way, I knew I’d just broken her a little more.
Like so much that’d happened tonight, I didn’t know what to think of that.
• • •
An hour later I was still wide awake.
I don’t know what I was smoking, thinking I’d fall asleep with Em in my arms. She dropped off pretty quick, which kind of surprised me. I mean, I knew she was safe with me—at least physically—but she didn’t.
She’d refused to take off her clothes, but I still felt every inch of that beautiful body up against mine and it was fantastic. Of course I knew guys with old ladies, and they seemed to enjoy being around them. I’d never understood it, but if it was anything like this, maybe it wasn’t so crazy.
I decided to play a little game. I’d lie in the dark, holding her, and pretend she was my old lady for a while. Pretend we lived in a world where I could have something as beautiful as her. That I didn’t owe the Jacks everything, or that she wasn’t a Reaper.
Then I caught myself, because what the f**k?
Christ, I didn’t want an old lady—or at least one like Em, who could think for herself. I’d signed on for someone who’d do what she was told and be thankful for it. That’d been the plan, and now it was blown to shit. If I was gonna pretend, a better fantasy would be rolling her over and screwing her brains out. Nice . . . Imagining myself inside her was fun for a while, but then my c**k started getting pretty pissed off that we weren’t screwing her brains out for real. Considering I’d only brought a couple changes of clothing with me and I’d already soaked one pair of pants, seemed like a good idea to get some space.
I managed to get out of bed without waking her and headed downstairs to find Skid in the living room, playing Halo. An energy drink sat next to him, right next to a dusting of white powder. Guess I wasn’t the only one pulling an all-nighter.
He set down the controller and raised a brow.
“So, what kind of game you playing, bro?” he asked me. “Because something feels off to me. This bitch is your means to an end. That’s it, right?”
“I’m aware,” I said, my tone dry. “Believe me.”
“Just don’t forget whose team we’re playing for. I heard from Kelsey. Grass is stable. She says it’s not as bad as they thought when he first came in.”
“No word on Clutch?”
“Nope,” he answered.
“Em says Toke’s gone rogue. Reapers have lost control of him. If it’s the truth, we’re f**ked.”
“Think she’s messin’ with you?”