Bird raises his eyebrows. “Who’s the teacher here? Now, just look over my left shoulder, take small steps, and follow me.”
I know the basic steps.
Dancing is like fighting. It’s choreographed, except it often seems to have ended with bleeding hearts, rather than bloody wounds.
Sometimes, the courting balls appeared to have more casualties than my mob missions.
“That’s it. You are good at this.” Bird turns with me around the tiny space of the cell. “Isn’t this more fun than push-ups?”
It is.
It’s fucking thrilling.And it is good exercise.
I don’t admit that.
Instead, I deftly change position, stealing the lead from my Omega.
“Hey, the student is rebelling.” Bird laughs, and it’s like birdsong inside the unnatural metal of the cell.
Then he rebels against his own instructions and abandons his position to press his lips to mine.
Startled, I stumble, hitting my back against the bars of the cell with a clank.
I grab my Omega around the back, holding him in place.
I deepen the kiss, entwining our tongues.
He tastes as sweet as he smells.
Bird whines, slamming his hands onto the bars. He cages me.
Finally, he pulls back.
Bird’s gray eyes are wide and desperate. “Ro, what the fuck are we going to do?”
Still panting with desire, I stare at him, confused. “What?”
Trembling, Bird traces down my cheek. “If those dickheads come for you again like they have twice now to take you…wherever they fuck they take you. Why won’t you tell me what they’re doing to you? It’s tearing me apart not to know what’s happening. I’m imagining a lot of terrible shit. Surely, it can’t be worse than anything I’m thinking, right? Please, tell me.”
I drop my gaze, imagining the fire in my veins.
Burning, burning, burning.
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to show my fear.
I don’t want Bird to know how hard I am struggling to deal with being injected with Dr. Gill’s toxin.
How hard it’s becoming to resist it.
Although, I can’t walk after the experiments. I have been dragged back into the cell both times. So, Bird couldn’t exactly miss how much I was hurt.
He didn’t seem to find nursing me as hard as I’d found nursing him. In fact, it was like he’d done it many times before. I bet that he did in that hotel of his.
I twinged with territorial jealousy, thinking that he’d lain his soft hands on someone else’s fevered forehead before mine.
When they were so cool, however, I soon forgot my jealousy.
I groaned, burrowing under the blanket that he tucked around me. Then I luxuriated in the rare care of someone stripping and washing me with a gentleness that made me feel something.