Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
BELLATRIX
The back of my calf hit the metal frame—that was going to leave a bruise—and my ankle buckled and gave out.
I hadn’t broken it back on that fence but I had sprained it, and all that walking afterwards had it swelling up to twice the size.
I’d spent the last few weeks stretching and icing it, missing a shit-ton of gym hours, only to twist it again.
Fuck my life.
Casper was on me in seconds. I hated that fucking nickname.
He grabbed my hair by the braid and tugged my head back.
Dumb-ass grin on his face and sadistic twinkle in his eye.
One knee pressed up against the crotch of my pants, grinding in a back-and-forth motion.
The other digging into the side of my thigh, pinning me down.
He moved his mouth to my neck, and I turned my face so that we were nose to nose. “What’s your real name anyway?”
He pulled back, clearly caught off-guard. Dropped my braid and propped himself up on one arm. “What makes you think that ain’t my real name?”
“Casper?” I quirked a brow and sat higher on the bed, lifting my ankle onto the mattress and pretending it didn’t hurt like a motherfucker while I did it. I didn’t need him knowing I was down a leg. “Yeah, not unless your parents didn’t like you very much.”
He bounced one shoulder into a half-shrug before plopping down on top of me again. “Maybe they didn’t.”
He leaned forward, and I raised a hand, brushing the white-blonde hair out of his face.
His blue eyes an odd contrast to his pale skin and naturally pink lips.
He wasn’t wearing lip gloss but they glistened as if he were.
Long, thick lashes. A few shades darker than what he had on his head.
And eyebrows that appeared perfectly plucked.
Though I was sure he hadn’t bothered. The guy looked otherworldly.
Like one of those human hybrid creatures out of Gabby’s books.
She called it fantasy. I called it fairy porn.
Guess I never realized how pretty he was before now. Probably because we were too busy fighting or fucking each other most other times. It was the sort of thing you took for granted when you were shoving a knife into someone’s gut.
“Tell me,” I whispered, skimming my mouth across his. My teeth slowly sinking into his bottom lip and tugging. I hated to admit it, but the fucker always tasted good. Sweet like candy. Which seemed to be all he ate whenever I saw him.
Funny how sugar was also something that could kill me… Not so funny how I had a weakness for both.
He met my kiss with one that was deeper. Less gentle. More animalistic and hungry. His tongue seeking and demanding and punishing. One palm cupping my breast through my shirt and one bracing us over the mattress. So I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. But I wanted to want to.
He dropped me back onto the bed and started reaching for the button of my pants.
I stopped him with a hand on his knuckles.
Not forcefully. Just a light sweep of my fingertips.
It was like the guy didn’t know how to respond to soft.
It seemed to startle him enough to get him to stop whatever he was doing.
“Tell me,” I repeated. Not begging. He didn’t respond to that either. Not an order because he responded even worse to being told what to do.
He seemed to consider what he was going to say for a moment. His brows creased in the middle and his mouth suspended between pinched and relaxed. Disarmed and suspicious. “Kaz,” he finally replied.
“Kaz?” I asked.
“Kazimir Markov,” he clarified. “But let’s keep it simple with Kaz.”
“So, not Casper then?” I tried to hide my smirk. I enjoyed being right, even if Gabby insisted that my gloating was unattractive.
“Not always,” he said, making quick work of my pants and underwear. Tugging both off my legs and tossing them on the floor somewhere. He moved onto my shirt next, attempting to yank it over my head.
“Careful!” I barked and grabbed the material out of his hand before he was dislodging my pump again.
He jutted his chin towards my arm as I pulled on my sleeves. One side, then the other. “That for your insulin?”
I flicked my eyes from my shirt back up to his face.
I wasn’t confused as to how he knew. I had no doubt Adrian had mentioned it in passing.
Fucker didn’t seem to like having information if he couldn’t hold it over someone’s head.
I was confused as to why my supposed assassin seemed to care about my health all of a sudden.
“Yeah, and you’ve already knocked it loose a few times,” I grumbled.
“I didn’t know about it then,” he said, sounding almost apologetic without actually apologizing.
“Would it have mattered if you did?” I laughed.
“Yes.”
I reached around my back and released the hook of my bra, letting the straps gradually slide down my shoulders.
He watched as my breasts started to come into view a sliver at a time, before I deposited my bra onto the nightstand.
I wanted to be able to grab it quickly. Nothing was worse than trying to run without one.
“Why would it matter? You said you want to kill me,” I asked.
“I do.” He grinned. “And I will. But not because of some technical glitch.”
He jumped off the bed, removing his tactical belt and dropping his pants and boxers. Then he climbed back onto the mattress. Slowly laying me flat, my legs hooked on each side of his thighs. His cock edging towards my pussy and two fingers pressing on my jaw, forcing my face up.
“When I kill you,” he whispered into my lips, “it’ll be intentional. It’ll be because I decided it’s the right moment to do it.”
He inched closer, pushing just the tip inside me, and I arched my spine.
“I’ll be looking you in the eye and you’ll know that’s exactly what I’m doing.
” He nudged himself a little farther, testing the waters without going all the way in yet.
“You won’t cry and you won’t argue. There won’t be any grief.
Because you’ll have seen it coming. You’ll accept it.
Knowing it was the way it was always supposed to go. ”
He thrusted forward, suddenly deeper than ever before. I groaned and grabbed on to the sheets for leverage.
“And I’ll accept it too. For the same reason.” He grunted and twisted his hips around, not stopping until he found that one spot that had me almost forgetting what we were talking about. At the very least, not caring.
“That sounds nice,” I admitted.
“It does, doesn’t it?” he agreed.