"I hate you." My voice cracks as I tell him.
His feet stop at the door.
I clutch the bedsheet tightly around my chest as he turns around with an emotionless face.
"Then there will be a lot of hate fucking between us." A smirk curve his lips as his g...
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"Ahhoouchh!"
A screech pulls out of me and I winch in pain at the movement of my wrist.
"What happened?" I hear a deep urgent voice, and in the next moment I see Dakota towering over me in a flash.
His piercing green eyes desperately run all over my face, looking for any sign of distress while I pull my hand back and shake my head.
"Nothing." I tell him, my voice almost cracking, but I keep my expressions stoic. I refuse to expose my vulnerable side to him.
Dakota narrows his eyes at me. "Show me your hand." A four word command he asks me to follow.
I stare back at him with my rebellious gaze. If eyes could talk, mine would be showing two raised middle fingers right now.
"Stop being so stubborn and let me see it." His jaw clenches impatiently and he grabs my elbow, tugging me forward.
"Ahhhh!" I hiss in pain and instantly, his eyes widen with concern as he notices my pained expression.
In an instant, his dominant and arrogant demeanor softens as he approaches me with care. Frown deepens on his forehead as he takes my wrist gently in his hands and examines with a precise focus of a surgeon.
"Oow ow!" I let out a yelp as he slowly moves my wrist in circular motion, inspecting it with the careful eye of a medical professional.
"Your wrist is sprained a little coz of the twist and lack of blood flow." He informs me and before I could place the blame on him, he disappears for a few minutes and comes back with a first-aid kit.
"You can't even handle a little roughness. You are fragile like a snowflake." Dakota taunts me as he makes me sit on the high stool and holds my hand again.
"Careful, mister. Snowflakes make avalanche." I tell him fiercely, and his green eyes snap up at me with a glint of surprise in them.
"Even if I am fragile, I can still kill you with my other hand." The fire inside of me warns him of the heat.
The corner of lips pull up in a smile which says I-am-impressed. However, it quickly fades away as he whispers darkly, "I have my doubts.. You can't kill a dead, Emara."
His face catches the hardness of a marble while he slaps me with his mysterious statement.
Why did he say that? And what does he even mean?
"Just because you are dead, doesn't mean I won't kill you twice." I breathe out rebellious air.
Dakota smirks, while taking out sterilized cotton balls, a pair of scissors, and bandages from the box, causing my nerves to jump out of my skin panickingly.
Oh god! Is he going to perform a surgery on me?
"What are you doing?" I try to protest against his pity, but he holds me close.
