I’d been a fool.
My chest ached with regret.
If Arabella was ever going to accept me as her Protector, I needed to build a relationship with her, which would only happen if I came across as nonthreatening.
I forced my shoulders to relax and tried to look approachable.
My lips curled up in a welcoming smile.
Corvus always grouched about how stupid John was with his “fucking dimples and constant smiles.” Most likely because Orion said Arabella liked to comment on how much she liked John’s jokes and smile.
Fucking John.
There was something intriguing about a grown man making jokes and acting so idiotic all the time. He was just so nice.
But if he was the type of man my Revered preferred, then that was exactly who I would be for her. Just because I wasn’t nice didn’t mean I couldn’t pretend I was.
My plan was simple.
Effective.
Failure was not an option.
“What’s wrong with you?” Arabella asked me with concern. “Do you need to use the bathroom? Should I leave? Why are you standing like that?”
She moved toward the door.
Frustration welled. I stepped in front of her and blocked her exit. “I’m fine, say your demands,” I snarled, annoyed that she was misinterpreting my relaxed demeanor.
Could she not tell I was pretending to be a nice guy? What was wrong with her?
She scoffed. “No need to get all huffy.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but my teeth clicked as I shut my lips, and I breathed deeply.
I would wait patiently like a normal, nice man would.
For her, I would pretend.
“Why are you making that face?” she asked incredulously, then whispered, “Are you having stomach pain? Sometimes I also get it after a battle. Don’t worry, I think it’s normal.”
I gaped down at her with disbelief.
She continued rambling, “It’s probably just an ulcer from worry. I read somewhere that loads of people get them, especially during violent times in history with lots of upheaval.”
A headache throbbed against my temple as I struggled to come up with a response to her inane statements.
What would a nice guy say in this situation?
“Do you need me to get you medicine for your stomach?” I asked slowly as I pulled my lips up into an approachable smile.
“No need to snarl at me.” She made a disgruntled noise. “I was just saying.”
I wanted to scream with frustration because I wasn’t snarling, I was fucking smiling.
Why can’t she tell the difference?
Stepping forward, I used my larger size to surround her.
Frost burned my tongue, and my heart thudded erratically in my sternum. My skin tingled with the urge to wrap my fingers around her cold flesh and dig my nails into her skin.
I needed to mark her as mine.
I wanted to hurt her until she cried with pleasure.
I wanted to show her how much I cared.
I wanted her. Period.
Lately, everything had been dull and unexciting. The ungodly were predictable, and the infected were pathetic.
Everything was dissatisfying.
Boring.
Everything except for the woman who was standing before me, trapped in three cubic feet of space by her own voluntary will.
I used my larger size to press her against the wall.
“Back off!” she yelled abruptly, and the side of her hand slammed into my trachea.
I stumbled back, unprepared for her outburst of violence.
Goose bumps exploded down my back, and I shivered from the ecstasy of her touch.
My throat throbbed with pain, and it felt delicious.
I licked my lips.
The skin on my neck burned where her icy fingers had touched. I pressed my hands against it and marveled at the difference in temperature where she’d made contact.
Adjusting myself in my sweatpants, I took a deep breath as I tried to figure out how to proceed.
Should I pin her against the wall and ravish her? Beg her to punch me in the throat again? Dig my nails into her throat as punishment until her blood coated both of us?
So many fucking options.
I was paralyzed by indecision, so turned on that I couldn’t think rationally.
She sighed and repeated, “This is what we’re going to do.” There was a creak as she turned the shower nozzle, then the sound of rushing water. “We’re going to get into the fucking shower.”
I gulped.
Pressing my fingers harder against my neck, I tried not to jerk my hips as I remembered the blissful pain that had rocked through me when she’d punched me.
Then I remembered I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t.