Blood and dirt coat her pale skin, flaking from her body and onto the heated rock floor. She runs her hand across her flat stomach, drawing my eyes to her fingers. Slowly, I move closer until what she’s doing becomes clearer. Like plucking a string on a guitar, her nails claw at a tiny white scar.
“I had hoped these would fade,” she murmurs, keeping her voice low in an attempt to hide the wobble. “They’re more tragic when it’s another carving sorrowful memories into your skin.”
She flicks her gaze to me. “I hate them.”
I grit my teeth, fury building in my chest. I would’ve loved to have killed Xavier myself. Take my time with him as I did with Max. But it wasn’t my revenge to take. Though the satisfaction of getting her off before him is something I’ll cherish.
“Every time I look at them, I think of him,” she continues in a hushed tone. “I don’t want to look at my body and see anyone else but me and you.”
I stay silent and pull my hoodie and t-shirt over my head in one go. She doesn’t even glance my way, too lost in the memories that gave her those scars.
“Do they still hurt, baby?” I ask, unfastening my belt and jeans before removing those, too.
By the time she answers, I’ve completely undressed.
“Sometimes,” she whispers. “Sometimes they burn. As if the blade never stopped cutting through my skin.”
I hum in response, the anger continuing to rise in my chest. Just like water boiling in a pot, it’ll bubble over until everything I touch burns with me.
“Sometimes,” she starts again, her voice raspy. “I wonder how you could still possibly want me.”
I meet her stare through the mirror as I approach her from behind. That plump bottom lip finds its way between her teeth, and fear flashes in her caramel eyes.
It reminds me of those moments when I was a stranger, and she was an obsession I only knew from afar. So many times, that same look crossed her eyes. When she saw my roses or when I stood outside her window. Even more so when she was wriggling beneath my hands, arching into my touch while begging me to go.
It satisfied the dark part inside me reserved only for the woman standing in front of a mirror, wondering how strong she really is.
I craved her beyond good intentions, morals, and doing what’s right. I wanted her so badly, I threw away those things to make her mine.
And if she thinks a dark mind and scars marring her flesh would deter me, she still doesn’t grasp how deeply I long for her.
I press into her back, the heat of our bodies transferring into one another. She feels like a slice of heaven I’ll never have the honor of seeing, but I’ve always preferred to find paradise in the depths of Addie’s body.
My hand slides up the column of her throat, encouraging her to tip her head back against my shoulder, mouth parted.
“I’ve followed you through lifetimes, Adeline. My soul needs you so badly that I’ve become a shadow, destined to hunt you for eternity.”
Her eyes flutter, and a little moan slips free, nearly writhing from the promise of haunting her soul.
She was fucking made for me.
“If you think scars are going to turn me away, then you haven’t seen just how cruel I can be,” I rasp.
Her breath hitches, and those caramel orbs round, flashing with trepidation as they focus on me. Her pulse thrums wildly beneath my hand, and I want to sink my fucking teeth into it so I can taste how much I scare her.
I snarl, letting the blackness in my soul bleed out and pour onto her skin, staining any innocence she had left. Those men took that from me, and I’ll be damned if I let them have any more of her.
With my free hand, I knock away hers and trace the scar she was picking at, earning a little gasp from her throat.
“These will become mine, too. I will put a blade to every single one and claim them as my own. The only thing you’ll see when you look at them is me,” I growl, my hand flexing around her throat.
“You wouldn’t,” she breathes, challenge sparking in her irises.
I grin wickedly, delighting in the sight of her fear deepening. Just as her nipples tighten, and her arousal permeates the steamy air.
“That’s it,” I whisper, right before I tighten my hold until her air supply cuts off. “Fear me, little mouse. Not the sick fucks who have no right over any part of you.”
Then, my other fist flies out, cracking the mirror. She flinches in my grasp, her nails scoring into my flesh as I pick a piece of glass out and present it to her.
Relaxing my grip, she greedily sucks in oxygen while keeping her eyes pinned to the shard of glass. She’s trembling, and I roll my hips into her pert ass, groaning when she only shakes harder.
“Point me to the first one,” I order.
I’m giving her a choice. I may be scaring her blind, but she knows how to get out of my hold. She knows how to turn the weapon on me instead.
She knows how to fucking fight me.
Sucking in an uneven breath, she points her finger to her stomach.
Deliberately, I move my hand to the spot, watching her closely through the broken mirror. Her gaze is locked on the glass, inhaling sharply when I press it into her skin, directly over the scar.
I pause, giving her one last chance to back down, but she turns her lips to my neck, her hot breath fanning across my skin.
So, I press the shard into her old scar, snarling when she opens her mouth and clamps her teeth onto my throat, biting down without restraint.
It’s over as soon as it began, and she releases me instantly, chest heaving. It’s not deep-just enough to draw blood.
Blackness licks at the edges of my vision as I succumb to the beast inside me.
“Next one.” I hardly recognize my own voice, but it’s one she trusts because she peeks through the mirror and points to another on her hip.
Again, I slice while she bites. Over and over until her front side is covered in cuts, and she’s shaking. Then, I spin her around and lift her on the sink, cradling her to my chest while I slice over scars on her back until she’s stained with blood, and my neck and shoulders are imprinted with bite marks.
We’re both breathing heavily, brimming with lust, agony, and a restlessness that puts us both on edge.
She’s trembling beneath my hands, and her eyes are like glazed caramel apples, high off the endorphins rushing through her system. I drop the glass, rubbing each thumb over a wound, intoxicated by the sharp hiss from between her teeth.
“Does anything about the way I love you feel tragic?” I ask, brushing my lips across her jaw.
“Yes,” she whimpers. “But only because one day it will end.”
A growl rips from my throat, and I fist her hair, tipping her head back and forcing her to see the truth.
“You and I will never end, little mouse. Even when we’re six feet under, and our bones are dust, I will haunt your soul until it aches to be free of me. And then, I will hold you tighter.”
Her lip trembles, fighting against my grip on her hair in order to press herself against me, her hardened nipples brushing against my chest.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.