He peeled off my sock, his rough fingers trailing against my skin and making my heart race as he skimmed his thumb along the arch of my foot.
“It’s fine,” I said throatily, lifting my head to look around the room.
It was an incredible lounge with a boat theme, a life ring hanging on the wall between incredible artwork of the lake. The far end of the room was full of shelves with boating equipment filling every space in neat piles, and there was a huge table with a model of the Everlake campus on it.
I winced as Kyan ran his thumb over my ankle, putting pressure on my Achilles’ tendon.
“What are you doing?” I asked irritably despite the fire in my veins which told me how much I liked his touch, even if it did come with a pinch of pain. But everything about Kyan always hurt me, so I wasn’t surprised.
“I’m tending your wounds, like you tended mine.” He lifted his eyes and I forgot to hate him for a full heartbeat. Jesus fucking Christ how does he always get so deep under my skin? “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” I whispered before I realised I’d said it out loud.
He frowned, rubbing his thumb into the tendon and I winced again.
“There,” I agreed, wanting to move on from what I’d just said. Because it was horrifyingly true. He made me hurt in every corner of my body, from the tips of my toes to the deepest regions of my soul. Kyan Roscoe made each piece of me feel bruised.
As he massaged my ankle, it started to feel better and I sighed, dropping my head so my soaking hair fell forward to frame my face. “You shouldn’t do that, Kyan, not if you don’t want me to run again.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he taunted. “Prey is no fun caught. I like it alive and fucking kicking.”
I shifted my other foot, kicking him in the leg with a smirk. “That so?”
“That’s so,” he agreed, continuing his surprisingly gentle work with my ankle.
“I feel like the most typical blonde bitch in the world right now,” I huffed. “Running away from a psycho only to fall and twist my ankle.”
“Lucky I didn’t have my Scream mask and butcher’s knife.”
“You like old school movies?” I asked with a note of laughter at his joke, not admitting that I liked them too.
“Nineties horror is fucking hilarious,” he mused. “Doesn’t rival the gore of today though.”
“I don’t like gore.” I wrinkled my nose.
His thumb pushed a little harder into my tendon and it didn’t hurt this time. “You can avoid stuff like that all you like, but I prefer to look life in the eye and show it that it doesn’t scare me.”
“That’s not real life,” I tutted.
“Blood and gore and death are as real as it comes, baby. No one wants to look behind the walls of a slaughter house, but they all queue up to buy their freshly packaged meat at the market. If people faced the truth, do you think they’d eat it?”
“Well I don’t eat it.” I kicked him again. “Because knowing the truth is the same as seeing it.”
“Not for most people,” he said, his eyes burrowing into mine like he wanted to crawl inside my head. “What makes you different?”
“Who knows? Maybe I’m a fairy from a faraway land.” I leaned back, my hair dripping onto the rattan either side of me.
“Well you’re a bit late picking up this lost boy, Tinkerbell. Wish you’d taken me to Neverland long before I had to grow the fuck up.”
Those words cut into my soul and I reached out to cup his cheek. I knew he’d never tell me about his life outside of Everlake, but it was clear how affected he was by whatever life had thrown at him. I couldn’t even picture him as a young boy. I could more clearly imagine him crawling directly out of hell as a fully grown man, tattoos, muscles and all.
My mind drifted back to what he’d done to Deepthroat and I pulled my hand away from his face, my stomach knotting.
“Why do you torture them?” I asked coolly as he placed my foot down on the floor. I pressed my weight into it and it felt good enough to walk on. Probably run too if I had to.
He stood up, holding out a hand to me. “I’ll tell you, but I wanna show you something first.”
I frowned, eyeing the same hand which had just healed my ankle, reluctantly sliding my palm into it. He tugged me upright, waiting as I tested my foot until I nodded to say it was alright. I leaned down, taking off my other shoe and peeling off my soaked sock before he led me toward a sliding glass door across the room. He unlocked it, pushing it wide and guided me onto a covered balcony that looked out over the lake.
The rain was still pouring, rushing down over the edge of the overhanging roof which sheltered half of the balcony. There was a large, white net hammock strung up to one side of it and Kyan guided me to it, falling down into it and pulling me with him. I was forced to press against his side and lay my leg over his. He kept one foot out of it, using it to push off the floor and make us swing back and forth.
His arm was locked around my shoulders and he took hold
