Forbidden

Chapter thirty-seven

When I look at his face, his hair was messy but accented his face and cheekbones, the barely there stubble complimented his jaw. When he had enough he licked his lips then they twitched to a side smirk over the rim of the bottle his eyes lightly wrinkled before taking another gulp of water.

Smugness is written on his face that I quickly snap my eyes to the side. Then I hear him walk in front of me, he wants to hoist me up even if I argued defensively taking steps backwards in a silent way claiming that I don't need him to take care of me in which he threw me a fiery look, handling my frame with ease despite my protests. This is what I was talking about when I thought about how he will continue to get his way once I'm better, it doesn't matter that I was close to death. It's not like I was hoping for him to be different with me but it felt awful nonetheless, to know I'll be treated the same way.

Since he didn't let me another choice he walks me up to my room with me on his arms, while I subtly eye the intricate designs inked on his biceps.

It doesn't make sense to me, the urge of having this interest of him and his tattoos. And more so when I would like to find out what they meant. Maybe I'm just too tired, and the first question that pops your mind when you see someone with tattoos is the reason behind them.. but why do I specifically want to know now?

Anyway, he lays me down the bed giving me a look, leaning on the closed door, his hazel eyes look tired but he doesn't leave yet. We don't talk only watch each other while I make myself comfortable in my bed.

"I've started to ink my skin since I've been involved with this life style." he calmly told me after a while, I snap my eyes away from his arms. Is he a mind reader?

"The bird on my hand means freedom." he whispered and I frown.

Why is he telling me this?

"To remind myself I'm still free in spite of what decisions in life I am coerced to take." he murmured touching the little bird on his hand.

"Like kill someone?" I bitterly retort. He doesn't take note nor returns a word but continues, "The mehndi tattoo is there so I don't forget my roots and dead family." he whispered, the moment he said that my heart does a weird thing.

"Stop." I whisper, I don't want to know anything more.. Not when I finally have come to terms that he's ruthless and I'd like to keep that image so I don't want to find out anything about him or actually think that he's human and has feelings like I do.

"It caught your interest when you scanned my body, Olivia." he cockily rasped, slightly annoyed too when he sneered and I scoff turning away.

'Like my eyes or neck gets your attention.' I want to defend myself, at least I don't go and leave hickeys on his skin possessively, but I bite my bottom lip refusing to argue, it's best he leaves, otherwise I know this will blow an argument that is lingering on both of us.

I hear him taking some footsteps to my bed and I squeeze my eyes.'Don't come here. Please don't come closer.' I chant mentally. As I wait he exhales sharply before exiting the room, I ease off completely, releasing a breath I was holding in.

That was so strange. Even if I was intrigued to know what his tattoos mean he didn't have to tell and I didn't ask.

And his family is dead? Great, now I feel completely overwhelmed and guilty, my head swarming with unresolved things when it's him who should be remorseful at what he did at me.

He hasn't even apologized. Not that he could possibly feel sorry and I hadn't want to hear his excuse. He literally only one time said sorry to me after all that I've been through and even then I didn't know if he was truly apologetic.. I mean his eyes were tinted with sincerity when he said that to me. But one can't be sure with him.