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Obey…he wants me to obey him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I lay like a humiliated bag of bones beneath him. My trembling voice giving away my fear.

He blinks at me through his devilishly long eyelashes. “I need to break you,” he says.

“Why?” I whisper.

He reaches down and picks me up, holding me in his arms. “So, I can build you up again, piece by piece.”

I wake up in the familiar surroundings of the bunker. Something is off. I’m inside, but fresh air still hits my face, and I’m warm and comfortable. His breath is on my ear, sending a bloom of unfamiliar warmth through me as strong arms gently wrap around my waist. The cut lines of his body are soft despite their sharp edges.

The Archer is in my bed, curled up around me.

My heart skips, and I immediately push down any sense of peace and tranquility, even though this is all my body craves—him. I turn to look at him, and our eyes meet. I part my lips, but only to force air into my lungs, and my body begins to tremble.

I stir for just a second, and his hand tightens on my side, my body reacting in a way that is familiar. Every line on his body is like a picture I painted. A memory so deep…

“Are you feeling better?” he asks.

I barely remember anything after he gathered me in his arms. My energy levels are still lagging. “What happened?” I ask. “How did we get back here?” It seems like he doesn’t wish to kill me…at least not yet.

He shifts beside me. “You fell asleep, so I carried you back home. I didn’t want to leave until I knew you’d wake up again.”

Home. Is that what we call this place?

I groan. “Just let me die, already.”

He slides out of the steel bed, and an immediate chill kisses my skin, infiltrating my bones. I can’t keep my eyes off him, his muscles flexing while he moves around the bunker with ease. Something is deeply wrong with me. I shouldn’t be this attracted to him, especially after he choked me in the dark. Though I’m not even sure if that was him. Which terrifies me to my core. He grabs some water, crouches, and brings it to my lips. “I can’t do that, wildling.”

I take small sips and lay my head down again. “My grandfather used to call me that.”

He stares at me, as if admiring me. “I like the name. It suits you, Layla.”

My entire body is sticky. “How do you know that? He only called me that when I was little.” I run my hands over my matted hair, aware I’ve not properly washed it in days, and now it’s full of lake water. Suddenly, I become obsessed with untangling it. Pushing myself up, I rip my fingers through it.

It makes me want to scream.

He grabs my hand, stopping me. “Layla, stop.” I can’t stop. I yank my hand away and keep pulling until tears streak down my dirty face. His eyes turn a deep golden brown, and the familiarity of them takes my breath away. “Don’t do that,” he says softly, running my hands to my lips. “I like you like this. You’re beautiful like this.”

Teary-eyed, I glare up at him and catch my breath. I have no idea how to respond to that. My body takes a moment to calm down. Shaking uncontrollably as I internalize what he’s saying.

He likes me weak…broken.

This is wrong on so many levels. I continue raking my fingers through my hair…fuck him.

He grabs my hand forcefully this time, and ever so slowly his eyes darken to something monstrous. “You don’t have to hide around me. I’ve seen every version of you, Layla.” His voice turns to something I don’t recognize, and my adrenaline pumps.

My heart skims the surface of my chest, and my face heats. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Longer than you want to know,” he says, crawling in beside me, filling the cold void. My body heats as our thighs touch. My insides squirm, and pressure builds between my legs. I hate how much I enjoy having his warmth after days of being desperately alone. “I know everything about you. Every dark little secret you’re hiding.”

He caresses my stomach. My breath grows heavy, and my nipples harden—every part of my body is on fire. He watches me squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying my torment. I should not be turned on, and I’m desperately hoping he can’t tell how my body is reacting to him.

He runs his hand along my forehead. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you going to behave?”

My heart pumps. Last time he left me alone in the dark for days. Maybe this time he’ll leave me alone forever. “I’m not playing your twisted game,” I grit out. I just witnessed firsthand the sudden shifts in his personality. He was the one who choked me. It must have been him.

A low-chuckle hums from his chest. “You’re the one playing twisted games, baby. Lying to the world about what you did. Carrying on as if you’re not a twisted little killer.”