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.
“I don’t ever want to be free of you, Zade. Not in this lifetime, and not in all the ones that come after.”
She grabs either side of my face and crushes her lips onto mine, her nails scraping against the stubble on my cheeks.
She holds on to me like she’s falling, but I have no interest in catching her. I will always fall with her, chasing after her even in death.
Her legs lock around my hips, so I pick her up, my hands sliding against her slick skin, and carry her to the clawfoot tub. She pulls away just an inch, her teeth chattering and drawing out a grin from me. She’s grinding her pussy against my length, slipping and sliding from how fucking soaked she is.
Carefully, I step into the tub and lower us in it, crimson dyeing the porcelain with smeared fingerprints and fresh droplets.
Baring my teeth, I groan when she undulates against my cock, threatening to tear my sanity out of my head like a monster does a heart in a cheesy horror film.