Or snapping their necks.

“Shouldn’t you be in England?” My vocal cords strain with the effort it takes to say the words. “Alex said you study at Oxford.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore?” What the hell is that supposed to mean? I was only enduring his jerk ways because he’s supposed to fly to another continent.

As if reading my mind, his lips twitch in a smirk as he strokes my jaw with his lean thumb. “I can’t leave my fiancée alone, now can I?”

Screw him to the darkest pits of hell.

We both know that’s not the case. He’s only staying here to torment me and turn my life into a nightmare.

More than he already is.

“Don’t take the help’s side over mine.” All his good—or fake—mood disappears, replaced by a cold, hardened expression. “Is that understood?”

I remain motionless, not uttering a word. If I do, I’ll yell profanities, and then he’ll really choke me to death.

It’s crazy how much his energy seeps under my skin even when I try to chase it away.

It’s like hypnotism.

That’s it—I’m being hypnotized.

He squeezes his thumb against the hollow of my throat. “I said, is that fucking understood?”

“Whatever you say, Ash.” I try to keep the tremors and fear out of my voice by inserting as much sarcasm as I can.

Big mistake.

His hand turns to steel as he squeezes hard. My eyes bulge as my small air supply vanishes.

I claw at his hand, scratching the skin. Just like in the hospital, he doesn’t budge.

The damn psycho is out for my life.

“What was that?” he asks, slightly loosening his hold.

“Asher! Asher!”

He removes his hand, but he doesn’t back off.

I cough, massaging my assaulted throat. “Jeez. It’s just a name.”

He stares at me for a second too long, as if he’s trying to figure out how to deal with me and…failing.

“Cut the crap. Where were you going that night?” he asks in a calm tone, as if he didn’t just attempt to end my life.

“Ever heard of amnesia? It means I don’t remember.” I point at my head. “I don’t even know why the hell I’m with someone like you.”

“You’re not with me.”

Both his hands grip my bare thighs and pull me forward so my legs are on either side of his kneeling position. I yelp then gasp when his hands trail up until they reach the middle of my thighs. I try to escape, but he digs his fingers into my bruises, caging me against him.

“I own you. Every single part of you. You might have tried to escape, but that won’t happen again. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing this time, but I’ll figure it out and you’ll lose like you do every fucking time.”

“I tried to escape?” I ask. “Why?”

From what? Or rather, who? Does it have something to do with Dad’s mafia friends or with Asher or what exactly?

So many questions and no answer whatsoever.

“That’s what I’m going to find out.” He keeps a hand on my thigh, and brings the other to my face, placing his thumb on my lips. It’s still cold like it was at the hospital, but my nerves keep tingling at the sensation.

Asher’s dark eyelashes flutter over his somber gaze like a cloak, impenetrable and harsh. “Open your mouth.”

If he thinks he gets a repeat of what happened at the hospital, then he’s sorely mistaken. I only did that because it was a ploy to have him lower down his guards. Now that he’s demanding it means he’s in control, and I don’t play with an Asher in control. That’ll only mean he’ll devour me alive and leave nothing behind.

“No.” I jut my chin. “I won’t do—”

“Shhh. Don’t talk. When I speak, you listen. When I order, you obey. Now, open that fucking mouth.”

How can he sound so authoritative and controlling when he says that? Is that how he always talks?

The arrogant bastard.

His voice gains a lethal edge. “If you don’t, I’ll make you, and it’ll fucking hurt.”

As if proving a point, his thumb presses on a bruise on my thigh. I cry out as the agony shoots through me; hot and red. He keeps his thumb at my lower lip and doesn’t take advantage of my mouth opening. The asshole isn’t interested in that; he wants me to forfeit.

The pain slowly subsides and I go back to glare at him. He’s playing dirty with my condition.

His thumb strokes around the bruise eliciting a burst of slight comfort, pain, and a promise for more. I have no doubt that he’ll push if I encourage him. It’s like he has no limits.

“That’s nothing compared to what I can do to you, Reina.” His thumb freezes and I do, too. “Are you or are you not going to open that mouth?”

My lips part, slowly but surely. I don’t have the strength to play at his level now. With my injuries and his volatile personality, this can end badly for me. I have enough self-preservation to pick my battles.

He thrusts his thumb between my lips, and it takes everything in me not to bite down.

“Suck.”

It’s one word. One single word but it’s charged with so much intensity, it’s almost a living, breathing being.

He raises one perfect, thick eyebrow. “Do I have to threaten you again?”

Glaring up at him, I suck on his thumb faster than I intend to. My teeth graze his skin and I freeze, thinking he’ll rule it as if I were trying to bite him. When he continues watching me with half-lowered lids, I continue slower this time.

My cheeks heat and I curse myself for giving in this easily. Wait until I’m stronger, I’m going to clash with him headfirst.

“What to do?” He deadpans. “You have a new problem, Reina.”

I peek up at him, stopping.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He cocks his head to the side.

Groaning, I continue sucking the digit and lapping on it with my tongue.

“Your new problem is that you’re too expressive. You’re losing your touch.”

Why is being expressive a problem? I glare up at him so he knows exactly how I feel about him.

I don’t know what he expected, but my reaction is probably not it. Asher narrows his eyes before he pulls his finger out of my mouth. “I’ll find out about that night, and I’ll make you fucking wish you never set foot in the forest.”

“You’re a psycho.” I breathe out, my heart stammering.

It keeps beating and pulsing like crazy, as if it’ll soon stop and is using up all of its energy.

Asher’s lips pull up in a cruel smirk. “It takes one to know one, my ugly monster.”

He keeps calling me that, and I’m starting to think I should embrace that side to fight this particular monster off.

The rest of the week is filled with doctor’s appointments and trying to figure out who the hell I am.

I still can’t remember anything prior to waking up in the hospital, and Dr. Anderson’s diagnosis remains the same: my memories will filter back with time. However, at the last appointment, I heard him tell Alex we should be preparing for the possibility of this becoming long term.