Free Demon Chained (Shadowfae Chronicles) by Erica Hayes Page B

fucking crazy to care.
    And with that grotesque truth, I can't do this anymore.
    I wipe water from my face, and my hand's shaking. I clench my fingers to make it stop. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? That was fucked-up. I didn't mean . . ."
    Gavain just stares at me, with those bitter, sorrowful eyes. He's drenched, of course, his jeans soaked onto him like a dark wet skin, and if I had any more questions about the dimensions of his hard-on they're answered now. But he adjusts himself, and flushes, and says nothing.
    I've just come so hard in his mouth I nearly blacked out and he's not angry. He's not ashamed, or disgusted. He's not even oops, ha ha, let's pretend that never happened, okay?
    He's looking at me like a lost dog that followed me home.
    I wrench hot water from my hair with a brutal twist. Yes, I am totally the asshole in this sordid little scene. That doesn't mean he can stare at me like it's all my fault.
    "What the hell do you want from me?" I slam my palm against the bathtub, a hollow clang.
    He doesn't speak.
    "Don't you get it? I can't be responsible for you. You know what happens, if there's even an inkling that I give a shit? The next time Kane or Joey or any other bad-ass fucker with a grudge decides I need to be taught a lesson, you're a red smear on some back-alley wall. Is that what you want? Huh?"
    He swallows, his long throat bobbing. Silently, I beg him to speak. Come on, Gavain, take a chance. Kiss me. Hit me. Say Screw you, Tam or use me like that again and I'll tear you a new one or even stop being such a selfish prick and let's fuck, okay?
    Say anything. Do anything. Just don't act like a whore. Don't fool yourself that this is a fair trade. Don't offer yourself for something I can't give.
    Don't ask me to take care of you. Because I can't.
    He just fiddles with his wet clothes, and his gaze slides away. Like he's scared to talk.
    Reproachful bile splatters into my mouth, and my shame only makes it sting harder. "Just fuck off, okay? I didn't ask for your goddamn sympathy."
    His delicate face pales, and his mouth quivers like a child's. My heart scorches, and already I'm sorry for what I said, but he closes his eyes and flits away.
     
    ***
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    On the landing, Gavain stumbles, his vision blurring in sheets of bloodstained tears. He catches himself on the rail, pain lancing into his shin. He smacks his wet head against the banister, and stick-legged bugs drop onto the carpet and scatter.
    Stupid, timid whore.
    His blood still scorches with Tam. That delicious skin, his dripping hair, the silky slide of his lips, that gorgeous scarlet taste, wrapping around Gavain's hot fae senses like velvet, drowning him in salty, messy, forbidden bliss. And then emptiness, void, the silent blackness of doubt. Nothing left to do but walk away.
    The foil-wrapped lump in his jeans pocket digs sharply into his butt, accusing. Could have used it on Tam, made him want. Didn't dare. Too fucking scared and weak and useless. Frustration boils up inside Gavain's chest, and he crushes jagged teeth into his bottom lip, the pain dragging him back from the edge of screaming.
    Tam looked at him, see. He stared, with that black disdain bleeding from his beautiful dark eyes, and it choked Gavain's throat like a wasp sting and he couldn't say a word. What was there to say? Gavain's only good at one thing. He's got nothing else to impress Tam with. That was his chance. He wasted it.
    Truth: Tam is everything Gavain's ever wanted. Gavain is the last thing Tam wants. Delilah was right.
    Gavain squeezes his stinging eyes shut, but it's no use. He knows the bag is right here, on the banister, and he knows what's in it, and the urge to take it and run hacks his nerves with jagged glass.
    Choice: steal the lamp, run to Delilah and beg, take a chance that she's telling even an inkling of truth.
    Or leave without it, walk away, knowing Tam will never look him in the eyes again.
    Creeping back to the bathroom