He was lounging in a chair with his feet up, and even though I could only see his eyes, I knew I was already being analyzed. I was in the middle of a metal cage in the ocean, being circled by a shark ready to attack while chum was tossed in water all around me.

“You didn’t eat your dinner last night,” Cain said, and I glanced at the plate with the peanut butter and jam sandwich and the glass of water.

“I wasn’t sure if you were slowly trying to poison me or drug me into accepting whatever you decided to do.” I pushed myself back until I could lean against the wall.

Cain chuckled, his eyes looking away, and just like that, I was able to breathe again. If this was what it was like to be paralyzed by a stare, I could now say that I was fully qualified to write a thesis on the subject. He had an aura that filled the room like a hand wrapping around a person’s throat.

“If I drugged you or killed you with poison—which I wouldn’t do—wouldn’t that be a kinder choice than what I normally enjoy doing with my prey?”

He didn’t look over the computer, his fingers tapping away, but I could still feel the weight of the question as if he were inches from my face. I swallowed the grapefruit-sized lump in my throat as my brain ran over the question and what would be best to say so I would not end up under his blade.

“Yeah, I guess it would be.” I picked up the sandwich, and the bread was dry, but it still tasted fantastic because my stomach was so empty.

That wasn’t really the reason I hadn’t eaten it. I was attempting a hunger strike, but food was my weakness, so here I was, caving.

“Good girl, Sunshine.”

Those words had never sounded so sexy. A heat stirred in my gut to join the buzz of activity and finally settled between my legs. I bit into the sandwich harder and forced myself not to be such an idiot.

He’s a serial killer. For fuck’s sake, you shouldn’t be turned on.

“You’re cute when you glower, and I wouldn’t berate yourself too much. I planned on making sure you’re much more flustered before the day ends.”

My voice ceased to work, the rich peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth as I stared at the man that seemed to be able to read my mind. It was more than unsettling. There wasn’t a word in the dictionary that could describe the creeped-out sensation crawling along my skin.

I needed to get off this topic.

“What are you doing,” I asked and instantly regretted it as he put his feet down.