Chapter Thirty-Seven

When the girl slammed into him, he stumbled. When she came at him a second time, he actually collapsed backward. It was less about the force of her body—which he knew was weakened by days without nourishment and the corporeal punishment he’d been doling out—and more about his own lack of preparedness. It’d been stupid of him to assume that she would simply give up. The will to live was powerful. If he needed any proof of that, he had to look no further than the girl’s current position. She wasn’t turning and running again. Not now. Instead, she was staring down at him, anger tearing over her pretty features.

“I hate you.” Her voice was a whisper but still filled with conviction.

“I forgive you for that,” he replied.

Her eyes widened, and he stilled his face before a smirk could form. He loved that he could so easily catch her off guard. Desire swelled up.

“If you stop now and come closer nicely…” he said. “I won’t kill you slowly.”

She took a small step toward him.

Good girl, he thought, right before he saw the rock coming toward his head.