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It looks like he’s brewing something important in that giant noggin of his.
Just simple surprise, as if she’s thinking This is new right before she loses consciousness.
“You drugged me again to get me to be quiet, didn’t you?” “Against my better judgement, no.”
Wait. I forgot. She’s not a woman. She’s a raging banshee who eats men’s sanity for supper.
mouthy Tinker Bell banshee
“So you do need me? For what, exactly?” I growl, “Target practice.”
“Mr. O’Donnell warned me that you were chatty. There’s nothing worse than a quiet woman, I told him, because it only means they’re up to no good. He seemed to think you were up to no good regardless.”
“If you’re about to strangle me, just get it over with.” “The thought had occurred to me.”
“You’re telling me I’m not interesting?” “You’re about as interesting as a koi fish. An old one. With digestive issues and a malfunctioning swim bladder.”
The FBI should hire her for their terrorist interrogation team. There’s not a man on earth whose will to live she couldn’t break.
Satan did a good job when he created her.
I think I’m going to break something. Maybe her knees.
“Because he gave me his word.” I mouth I lied.
The punishment I’m about to administer doesn’t require silence.
“Three out of ten.” It’s a dare.
To hold her down and fuck her hard while I bite her neck. To listen to her cry out as I come inside her, pulling her hair. To punish her, dominate her, make her submit to me. To make her mine.
“No, don’t hide from me. Open your eyes.”
Or maybe that’s my brain bleed talking.
He looks momentarily pleased, before he remembers he’s not supposed to be talking to me.
“By the way, what’s that stench?” “I used Declan’s cigarette lighter to burn one of his ties.”
He says gently, “Why don’t you give me the lighter, lass?”
He sets the bags inside the door, turns to me, lowers his voice, says, “Kieran says hullo, and we’re working on the cooking thing,” then leaves again.
Right now, I feel like someone sucked all my energy out with a vacuum. That’s probably what Declan was doing right before I woke up next to him in bed.
I also don’t find anything I can use as a weapon. Not that I think Declan is going to hurt me, but there’s no telling when the desire to stab him will present itself.
“He wasn’t supposed to talk to you. That was a direct order. Yet somehow he left this room with little red hearts in his eyes and the strange urge to conspire with Kieran to get me to let you cook for them.”
“Oh. Hmm. That does seem like a high number for such a short period of time. But he is a gangster, so I guess it comes with the territory. Is there a quota they need to meet or something?”
Kieran fancies himself your butler, and Spider fancies himself in love. I won’t be able to send anyone else in here for fear they’ll come out trying to kill me.”
“You’re strange. And powerful. And aggravating beyond belief. I can’t decide if I should muzzle you for the remainder of your stay or unleash you on my enemies. I think you’d have them all eating out of your hand within an afternoon.”
“They better be. If she dies, so do you.”
“I won’t, boss. Nobody will get near our lass.”
Our lass. Christ, now she’s the team mascot?
“So that’s your sad face?” “This is my my-captive-is-a-pain-in-my-fucking-arse face.”
Sloane looks like I just informed her I sold her to a circus.
Silence follows, but I know it will be short. And I’m right.
“Declan?” “Aye, lass?”
“Are you talking about the brain surgeon?” “Aye. Looks like he got his medical license from a Cracker Jack box.”
“Oh, shut up.” “You first.”
After a five-minute pause where I can almost hear her internal struggle, she rolls over and pronounces,
I respond without looking up from the magazine, because I know it annoys her.
She opens her mouth, but closes it when—a miracle—she can’t find anything to say.
“A terribly homely princess, with buck teeth, facial hair, and a large hump on her back. She looked like a wee camel, in fact.” She mutters, “Walt Disney, you’re not.”
The wee camel princess could make any dog, no matter how rabid or feral, fall in love with her and do her bidding.”
He was the king of all the dogs—the top dog, so to speak—and famous for his bravery. Also for his intelligence. It was far superior to the wee camel princess’s intelligence.
“You’re so lacking in imagination, there’s a hole in your head where your brain should be.”
A nurse enters the room. Sloane quips, “Oh, good, maybe she brought an enema we can use to flush that stick out of your ass.”
“The wee homely camel princess is good at getting dogs to do her bidding, remember?”
“You actually like that idea. What a little monster. And you look so sweet.”
“You think I look sweet?” “No. I think you look like a camel. You’re revolting.”
“Go fetch a wee glass of water for the lass, and be quick about it.”
Instead of answering, I give Kieran a hug. When I release him, everyone is staring wide-eyed at me like I farted in church.
