What the hell was wrong with me?
I’d been determined to shoot Anderson straight between his eyes. To force a hole into his brain and stop him from ever hurting me again. Yet, he had hurt me again. Physically, anyway. His words also. But then the man I remembered from four years ago found his way through and held my hand while I relived some painful memories. He had encouraged me to heal myself.
But why? None of it made sense.
“Tea.” Anderson spoke quietly, pulling me from my inner argument.
I took the steaming mug from him and propped myself up, taking a sip. My stomach gurgled as though it resented the hot liquid, my gag reflex making me baulk at the sour taste. I wondered how long the teabags had been in the cupboard. I was sure they were fresh-ish.
Anderson was quiet as he drank his own drink, the only sound coming from the growing wind outside and the small patter of raindrops on the window.
“How do you know Sarah?”
I caught him flinch but I kept my gaze on the mug in my hand.
“I met her at a fight.”
I nodded. “Did you know who she was?”
“Not at first. I was a little surprised when I found out she was the same whore who fucked your ex.”
I wasn’t sure if I was angry or sad. My emotions were all over and I couldn’t keep track. “You just called her a whore.”
“She is.”
“But… you still used her.”
He inhaled sharply. “That’s what whores are generally for.”
Flinching with the callous way he spoke, I nodded again. “Is that what I am? To you?” I whispered, apprehensive of his answer. “A whore?”
He chuckled coldly. “You think I’m using you?”
“Well, aren’t you?” I snapped, sick of his damn riddles. Another wave of nausea rolled over me and I placed my cup onto the table. “You already told me I’m here for the game you’re playing with your father.”
“And you are,” he uttered. “But I don’t need to fuck you to use you, Kloe.”
“Oh, that’s just a bonus then, is it?”
He laughed, making my teeth vibrate with rage.
Blowing out a breath when my skin turned clammy, I slid the blanket off me and closed my eyes. Vomit scurried up my throat and I rushed for the bathroom, only just making it in time before the meagre portions of food I’d managed in the previous few days made a swift return.
My stomach heaved over and over and tears ran down my face with the force of the sickness that overtook me.
“Jesus,” I huffed out when I finally managed to lean back during a break.
“You okay?” Anderson watched me with a severe frown from his position against the doorframe.
“Yes,” I uttered. “But I have to say I’m surprised you even care.”
He looked furious, his eyes narrowing and his teeth clenching together, and I scuttled back when he was suddenly crouched before me. His fingers pinched my chin cruelly and he snapped my head back so my eyes were on his. “Oh, I care!” he growled. “And to be honest, I’m not even sure why.”
My lungs became a little too tight with his closeness, his fury climbing inside me and lighting the parts of me I despised. Tears prickled my eyes and I pulled back. “What the hell is it with you? I can’t keep up. Make your damn mind up, Anderson. Either hand me over to your fucking father, or just end it. Right now. Right fucking now!”
I was stunned when a wicked smile curved his lips, and his eyes blazed with emotion.
Gasping when his fingers curled around the front of my throat, I froze and pressed back into the pedestal of the toilet. The scent of vomit drifted up my nose and I heaved again.
Anderson dropped his hold on me instantly and guided me over the toilet bowl. His fingers bunched my hair, pulling it from my face as another round of retching saw me slumped over the loo.
“Have you eaten something dodgy?” he asked.
Thinking back, I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so.”
“So it was just the tea?” He frowned, his brow creasing with concern as he placed the back of his hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
As soon as the vomiting allowed me a little relief, Anderson whipped me up into his arms and carried me through to the bedroom. After gently tucking me under the duvet he disappeared and returned with a bucket, placing it beside the bed. “Sleep,” he ordered.
He settled himself into the chair set away in the corner. His face was tight, but his soft gaze was troubled. Clicking his tongue, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Kloe.” He whispered my name but the anguish in his tone was loud and fierce.
“I’m okay,” I replied just as quietly. I even gave him a soft smile of reassurance. “I’m okay.”
“Are you?”
“It’s just a virus, Anderson.”
He hesitated, blinking before he clicked his tongue. “Is it, my little wolf?”
Frowning, I shrugged under the duvet. “Sure, what else….”
My heart stopped. I sucked in a long breath. And shot upright.