Perry's POV
She flinched again. I caught that reaction. It happened every time I raised my voice or made even the slightest aggressive move.
The problem was simple - I had no clue how to handle Phoebe. Gentleness wasn't in my vocabulary when violence flowed through me like second nature. The right approach? Hell if I knew.
My rage served as my shield, and I refused to lower it for her. It clung to me like a second skin, and stripping it away felt impossible.
Still, watching her cower from me left me unsettled.
Usually, I thrived on fear. I loved seeing opponents shake in terror, convinced I'd tear them to pieces. That power rush felt intoxicating, addictive even.
But this woman changed everything. For the first time, her fear didn't satisfy me. I wanted her to stop recoiling from my touch, my words. I wanted her eyes on me.
The sensation disturbed me, yet I couldn't reign myself in. Might as well ask a wolf to shed its coat.
