“That’s why you push me even when you don’t have to,” he said. “You want me to punish you and you want to hurt me in return,” he pressed, not caring that my scowl was deepening and my hands were curling into fists at my sides. “And I think you get off on seeing me in pain.”
“How have I ever hurt you?” I snapped.
“You hurt me every time you ignore me. You hurt me every time you spend time with Milton or that douchebag with the hat or Cal or any other fucker who catches your eye.”
I pursed my lips at him. “Maybe you’ve been believing your own bullshit. I’m not the one who told the world I was a sex addict.”
“You did actually,” he pointed out, clearly meaning that interview I’d done for The Daily Solaria.
“Only because you gave me no choice.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “I had that model fired.”
“What?” I asked with a frown.
“The one in that photo shoot with you. The one it looked like you really did screw.”
“Wow. You’re insane,” I said harshly. “That poor guy probably really needed that job.”
“He didn’t need to take his work so fucking seriously,” Darius growled.
“What the hell is this, Darius?” I asked him angrily. “What is it you want from me? Because you’re acting a hell of a lot like some scorned lover, but we never even made it off the starting line so I don’t understand why-”
“Neither do I,” he growled. “But when I see you, all I want is to lay claim to you. I want you to be mine and I know you never will be and it’s making me even more fucked up than I was to begin with. That’s why I hate you. Not because I’m supposed to or because my father wants me to, but because you represent every freedom I’ve never been given. It’s like you were designed entirely to taunt me and toy with me and crack me open and I won’t let it stand.”
“So what do you want from me?” I demanded. “Do you want to sit up on that throne with me on my knees before you. Would that end this feud between us?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him for a long moment with heat building in my skin and an ache of longing warring through my body. I might still hate him, but I wanted him too. When my nights weren’t possessed by the shadows they were haunted by dreams of him. Of the taste of his lips and the touch of his flesh. He watched me like he didn’t know what to expect from me and I placed my foot on the first step of the raised platform which held the throne. There were three in all. To make sure that whoever sat up there would look down on anyone who stood before them. And if that was what he needed from me so badly then he could have it.
I would never bow to him, but he could have me on my knees.