“Why are you staring at me?”

I quickly jerk my gaze up, not looking at him. I know if I do, he’ll see the warm flush in my cheeks. I chew on my lower lip and turn my gaze over to him, unable to keep it away. He’s watching me, his eyes intense. He looks like a big, brooding piece of man meat that’s so damned edible I’m really struggling to remember why I hate him. But I do . . . hate him, that is.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

I swallow and turn away, shifting my body so I’m lying down, then I mumble, “Can you please cuff me lower, I don’t like having my hands above my head while I sleep.”

I hear the floor squeak as he moves, then I feel the heat of his skin as he so openly leans over me, shoving his chest into my face. A drop of water falls and lands on my nose. I really have to hold back the urge to snake my tongue out and lick it off as it rolls down my skin. He uncuffs my arm and moves it down, where he cuffs it again. He seems to linger a moment, before he moves back and straightens.

“Happy, now?”

“Not entirely.”

He snorts. “Is there a moment you’re not running your mouth off?”

I shrug. “I’m actually usually very quiet, I keep to myself where I can.”

He shakes his head. “I doubt that.”

I shrug again. “It’s true.”

“Funny,” he mumbles, stepping out of my vision and dropping his towel. I hear it land on the ground. Sit, heart. Sit. “I could have sworn you’ve not kept to yourself—at all.”

“I have no reason to keep to myself. You are trying to take away my family. Even the weakest of us have our time to fight. This is my time.”

He doesn’t answer me, so I turn my face to see him standing, wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans that he hasn’t yet buttoned. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s got a look on his face that I’m assuming means he’s deep in thought. I’m expecting him to argue with me again, but instead he leans down, picking up a shirt from the floor and walking past me.

“Hey!” I yell as he gets to the door. “What if I need to pee?”

He stands a moment, before turning and looking at me with a somewhat amused expression. “Then you yell.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” he says, before stepping out of the door.

Great.

Just great.

I hear a giggle, and I lift my head from the hard, lumpy pillow to see Dimitri stumble into the room followed by Livvie. Her top has been popped open and her cleavage is on display for the world to see. And it’s a perfect cleavage. Perfect. She throws her head back, causing her luscious locks to tumble down her back as she laughs. Dimitri has his arm around her waist. His shirt, too, is unbuttoned.

The minute the bedroom door closes, I lose my light. I hear them shuffle about, and then I hear the sound of kissing.

Oh no.

No way.

I do the only thing I can think of, in that moment. I yell.

“I need to pee!”

Silence fills the room.

“What is she doing in your room?” Livvie whispers.

“Don’t trust her in the cells,” Dimitri adds.

“Excuse me,” I snap. “Pee . . . you said to yell. I’m yelling. I need to pee.”

“Fuck sake,” Dimitri growls. “Wait here, Livvie.”

“You can’t be serious? Let’s go to my room. Leave her here.”

“I can’t leave her here,” he whispers angrily. “She’ll piss on my bed.”

“Jesus,” I yell, shaking my head. “I’m not a dog.”

“Livvie, wait, I’ll be back.”

I hear shuffling, and then Dimitri is by my side. He uncuffs me and hauls me up. I land in his arms and I can’t stop my hands flying out in front of me automatically. They land flat on his chest, my fingers splayed. He smells like whiskey and what I’m guessing is Livvie. He turns me quickly, and shoves me into the bathroom. When the door is closed, I quickly relieve myself.

I hope to God he’s not actually going to stay in the room.

That wouldn’t be okay.

By the time I get back out, the lights are on and Livvie is gone. I stare around the room, just to make sure I haven’t missed her, but she’s definitely not there. Dimitri is on the bed, leaning against it.

“Cheers for that,” he grumbles, staring at the ceiling.

“For what?”

“For cock-blocking me.”

I snort. “Go to her room, I’m sure you can manage.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just rolls and stands, walking toward me with a set of cuffs. I put my hands behind my back.

“Why can’t I have a decent sleep uncuffed?”

He’s already shaking his head, even before I’ve finished speaking.

“You’ve run with pirates, which means you know things about the ocean I don’t. I don’t trust that you wouldn’t have a way to escape me.”

“My hands hurt,” I protest, keeping them behind my back. “Just let me sleep for one night.”

He studies me a moment, and then he steps forward. I take a step back. He jingles the cuffs in his hands and then he’s lunging for me. His arms wrap around me and my back slams against a nearby wall. I feel his fingers slide down my arms until he takes hold of my wrists. He leans in close, his face inches from mine.

“I’ll let you sleep with your hands down.”