Chapter 1289:
Collin stifled a pained sound, gritting his teeth, but he didn’t push her away.
Even as Collin stayed perfectly composed, Roland’s heart pounded in his chest. Alarm flickered across his face as he watched Linsey. “Mrs. Riley, please stop! Don’t bite Mr. Riley—if you need to lash out, let it be me instead.”
Intent on stepping in, he took a step forward, but Collin’s chilling command cut through the air. “Stay back. Let her do what she needs.”
Distress overtook Roland, his voice trembling. “Sir, this isn’t safe. What will happen if your grandpa finds out you let yourself get bitten until you bled?”
“Enough,” Collin said, his glare sending a shiver down Roland’s spine. “I want you out of here. Don’t make me say it again.”
With heavy reluctance, Roland retreated, looking over his shoulder several times, his furrowed gray brows a clear sign of his worry. Silence settled as only Collin and Linsey stood by the table now.
Slowly, Collin lifted his free hand, using those rough fingertips to stroke the back of her neck with unexpected tenderness, almost as if he were trying to settle a frightened kitten.
“Had enough yet?” Collin whispered, his tone soft and teasing. “Maybe you want a taste of the other arm?”
Frustration bubbled within Linsey at first, but that low, soothing voice eased her agitation in a way she didn’t expect.
It was then that she realized the sharp tang of blood in her mouth.
Her jaw loosened as she let go of his arm, eyes lowering. She carefully rolled up his sleeve to check what she had done.
A fierce bite mark stained Collin’s forearm, the bruise and trickle of blood evidence of her anger.
Before Linsey could get a word out, Collin was already offering his other arm, patient and unbothered. “Take another shot if you need to.”
For a moment, Linsey stared at him, thrown off by his calmness.
No hint of anger flashed in his eyes. He looked at her as if he truly wanted to help her let off steam.
“My jaw hurts now. I think I’ve had enough,” she muttered, brushing his arm away, her face blank.
With unhurried ease, Collin rolled down his sleeve, barely acknowledging the injury. “Go on up and get some rest. When you’re ready for another bite, just say the word.”
Linsey’s composure finally shattered. “Collin, what is it you really want from me?” Her voice trembled, exhaustion and confusion bubbling to the surface. She simply couldn’t grasp him—ice-cold and unyielding one moment, then suddenly gentle, as if nothing had passed between them.
A measured glance was all Collin gave her before tossing the question back, “What about you? What is it you’re after?”
In his mind, he had stretched his patience as far as it could go, coaxing her, bending more than he ever had—yet she only seemed to shout louder. The absurdity struck him. What sort of high-society wife dared speak to her husband this way? Only Linsey would.
Emotion thickened Linsey’s reply. “I told you before—I just want to leave the house. That’s all.”
Calm as ever, Collin repeated himself. “And I’ve told you, that’s not happening!”
