Chapter 31: Eat you Alive
"Hate what?" She asked, feigning ignorance. Instead of answering, Quinn pulled her closer, his grip firm around her waist, securing her against him.
"What are you doing? I need to tend to your wounds," she exclaimed, her eyes widening as her heart raced. Their proximity was overwhelming, her chest pressed against his, their faces so close she could see the intricate patterns in his pupils.
It was only now she noticed the faint trace of gold in his eyes, an unusual detail that made him impossibly alluring.
"I hate..." he began, his breath brushing against her face. Belle’s gaze betrayed her, falling to his lips. They were pink and inviting, and before she realized it, she swallowed hard, imagining their taste—imagining *him* on her lips once more.
"I hate that you touch another man. These hands," he picked up her right hand, his tone possessive, "are mine and mine alone."
Snapping back to her senses, Belle retorted, "Why do you care? I am your ex-wife, in case you have forgotten. I have already asked the King to let Sofia stay in the castle. If you are so needy, go find her instead." She delivered her words sharply, as if to remind him of their reality. She hated his audacity, hated that he made her feel this way, hated his refusal to reject her. Did he know she burned with fury toward him? Could she even voice the depths of her hatred?
"Fine," he said unexpectedly, releasing her. The sudden loss of contact left her unsettled, but she quickly turned her focus back to tending to his injuries.
Taking up an ointment, she dabbed some onto her palm, mixing it with medicinal powder. "Let me know if it hurts," she said without looking at him, focusing on the injury on his shoulder. She worked carefully, using just one finger to avoid infecting the wound further.
Quinn, however, wasn’t watching her technique, he was watching her. His gaze was unrelenting, as though studying her every move, every expression.