4. Stubborn Little Rogue.

~ LAYLA ~

Fucking little rascal.

Raelin smiles. “Come on, Cupcake. I don't have all day. Your secret is safe with me.”

His tone softens when he speaks to the girl, and despite the subtle tension hovering in the air, he is still fucking smiling at her.

The expression tugs at something deep within me. Even the way he looks at her is heartwarming—a stark contrast to the cold glares he has been unleashing on me since the moment he stepped in here.

Anyway, he may be a two-faced asshole, but I can't deny that maybe, just maybe, he is not really that heartless like I thought.

At least, he is giving me water. Maybe I am not going to die so soon.

I watch the girl closely as she finally releases the water to Raelin. She is probably no more than eight or nine, with ash grey white hair curls tumbling down her small back.

Ash grey white curls just like mine.

But hers are shorter. Mine are longer, and now that I stare at my locks lazily draping over one of my shoulders, I can see that my hair strands are disheveled and messy with dirt.

Damn.

“Thank you, cupcake.” Raelin stands up with the water in his hand. “Now run along. We don't want your mummy finding out you are here.”

The girl hesitates, her fingers picking at the hem of her cute little blue dress. “But, Uncle Ray, why is she locked up? She looks sick—”

“Marina. Time to go.”

Raelin's voice is stern now.

Marina pouts at him, but she does not argue any further. She steals a glance at me instead, and I catch a flicker of pity in her puppy brown curious eyes.

Eyes that look far too gullible and innocent for a dark place like this.

“I also wanted to say her hair looks just like mine.” She giggles.

Raelin rolls his eyes.

With another glance at my direction, she scurries out of the cell, the sounds of her tiny footsteps echoing down the corridor until they disappear altogether.

When Raelin turns back to me, the tenderness in his features is gone, replaced by that same mask of hatred.

I want to blurt out that Marina is a tiny nosy one, but the pain of thirst still in my throat won't let me.

It burns harder now that there is water right in front of me.

Raelin approaches me slowly, holding the bottle of water in one hand, his eyes never leaving mine. My breathing falters when he gets close, too close, not bothering to keep his distance.

There is this intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race, but I force myself to remain still, to not show any signs of further weakness.

“You’re lucky that I’m still keeping you alive.” His dark tone is accompanied by warm breaths that fan against my face, his nose now almost brushing against mine. “But don’t think for a second that my kindness means that I won’t rip the truth out of you if I have to. You may be my mate, but you're still a fucking rogue.”

I glare at him, my throat burning with every breath I draw in at the tempting sight of the water in his hand. The water is so close now, so fucking close, and my desire to quench my agonizing thirst is almost overwhelming me.

Raelin twists the cap off the bottle and holds it out in front of me, just out of reach.

“Why were you near my pack borders?” He asks. “What were you running from?”

I grind my teeth, refusing to answer. He still wants to play this the hard way. Or did he forget that I am too terrified of losing my voice to speak now?

Without warning, he lifts the bottle to my lips and tilts it gently. The cool water touches my parched tongue, and I almost lap at the cool liquid like a thirsty bitch, gulping down as much as I can before he pulls the bottle away.

The sensation of the water sliding down my throat is pure bliss, and for a moment, I forget where I am. I forget the chains that bind me. I forget the danger of my situation.

All I can think about is the sweet relief I now feel flowing down deep inside my throat.

Raelin sighs, shaking his head. “Stubborn little rogue, aren’t you?

He withdraws the water a split second later, not letting me indulge in the pleasure for long. He sets the half-empty bottle aside and narrows his eyes at me.

“Now, speak. Tell me the truth, Layla .”

The sound of my name on his lips makes me flinch in surprise.

How does he know my name!?

“Who told you my name?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intended.

He smirks, leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “You told me the night we met, remember?”

“What?!”

He ignores my outburst of shock, his eyes drifting down to my locket necklace. “And this,” he trails his fingers across the silver surface. “This is beautiful. I think I should have it for myself.”

“Get your fucking hands off me.” I snarl, fighting not to shout.

I don't want to waste my new found breath and energy.

“It’s not like I am asking.” He smirks, curling away his fingers before folding his arms. “That's not what is important right now. What’s important is that you understand exactly what kind of trouble you’re in.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lie, forcing the words out even though my heart is pounding and racing with fear.

He chuckles, inching closer to my left ear. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way his nearness makes my skin tingle.

“You should be, darling.” He whispers, something in his voice instantly making my blood run cold. “Because if you don’t start talking, I’m going to make you wish you had.”

A knot of dread twists in my stomach, but I don’t let it tremble my breathing.

I can’t let my fear show. I have to stay strong. I have to stay in control.

He finally pulls away, saving me from the sweet torture of his earthy cinnamon scent. For a long moment, he stares at me, his eyes dark and unreadable.

And then, without warning, he turns and walks out of the cell, slamming the bars behind him.

The sound reverberates through the small space and through my body, leaving me utterly alone with my racing thoughts.

And with the gnawing fear that I may never get out of this place alive.