It’s been a long time since Landon looked at me with such disapproval.
I realize with a heavy heart that he only looked at me like this after I bathed him in pig blood and he was out for revenge.
Only, now, there’s no trace of his taunting smirk and godlike confidence that can’t even be rivaled by the devil.
“I texted you that I wanted to see the statue. You didn’t reply,” I sign, holding on to my calm by a thread.
“Oh?” He pushes off the wall and an urgent need to run away slaps me in the face. I don’t, though, and choose to stand in the path of the deadly storm.
“So you do know how to text, and here I thought you were ghosting me again.”
I track his deliberate stalking, my heartbeat escalating with each step he takes forward. “I wasn’t.”
“Why not? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet today, because we apparently met our quota, no?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Hmm.”
His voice vibrates close to my face as he stops in front of me. I’m assaulted by the scent of his intoxicating cologne and the ethereal view of his features.
And it’s really not a wise idea to think of him as the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen when he seems to be on the verge of squashing me between his fingers.
“You seem nervous, Mia. Is there a reason for that?”
I shake my head, and for the first time, I’m glad I can’t speak or I would’ve definitely stuttered.
“Let’s try again. Is there something I need to know about?”
My lips tremble as the pressure of his gaze strips me naked, leaving me unprotected when facing the overpowering intensity of his eyes.
Maybe I should confess about Rory. After all, he did talk to him over the phone and it’s not a good idea to pretend nothing happened. If I tell him that I wouldn’t even look in that prick’s direction, he’d believe me.
Right?
Still, I sign, “Something like what?”
“Like this.” He grabs the edge of my scarf and I yelp as he pulls it free.
I slap a hand on the hickey and I know I’ve made a terrible mistake when he clicks his tongue.
Shit.
“First, you let someone else touch you, then you do a flimsy job of hiding it with a scarf, and now, you’re trying to do it with your hand?” His voice darkens with every word. “Do you honestly believe you can protect the hickey from me?”
I shake my head.
I’m not trying to protect it. And yes, maybe a part of me believes what that asshole Rory said about how Landon stops being interested when someone else touches what’s his.
That possibility leaves me inexplicably on the edge. I tried to purge Landon out of my life, but that was a joke.
I seriously don’t know how I’d be able to go on without his craziness in my life anymore.
And that’s a scary thought that I don’t even like to consider.
“Drop your hand,” he orders with a tone that could accidentally cut someone—that someone being me.
I shake my head.
Maybe if he doesn’t look at it, his anger will dissipate—
In a fraction of a second, Landon grabs my wrist and forces it down.
His lips purse in a disapproving line and his eyes become two black holes that look like they’re straight out of hell.
Sweat beads on my spine and temples as I slowly break under the suffocating tension he commands with his eyes alone.
“Seems that you’ve forgotten who’s the only one you belong to and could use a reminder.” And with that, he leans down and bites on the hickey.
Hard.
Like a bloodthirsty vampire.
32
MIA
Pain explodes on the assaulted spot in my neck and spreads throughout my body like lethal wildfire.
However, I remain stunted in place.
Unable to move.
Unable to concentrate on anything but the feel of his lips on my battered skin and the fiery emotions only Landon can trigger inside me.
I should probably tell him I didn’t want Rory to touch me nor did I let him, really, but I can’t.
My whole body seems to have lost its functions and I’m seeping into a seamless, weightless reality where I can only exist in the moment.
Landon sucks on the skin with power that nearly empties my soul through my throat. It’s punishing, hard, and entirely cruel.
It’s also a fucked-up connection I didn’t realize we could establish. A liaison through searing pain and insatiable rage.
He finally pushes back, leaving a throbbing, tingling mess where his teeth were.
Blood coats his lips, enforcing the image that he’s a vampire who just finished feasting. On my blood.