CHAPTER TWELVE
Serafina
Adrian’s bloody, bruised face loomed over mine.
I gasped, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs I feared it might burst through.
His breath came in ragged pulls, the scent of copper and sweat enveloping me. Blood trickled from a gash above his eyebrow, staining his cheek with crimson streaks. His lips were swollen, split at the corner, yet curved in that maddening half-smile.
God, I couldn’t stand that smile.
“Did you have fun?” he rasped, his voice deep and masculine.
“Let me go, Adrian.” I squirmed in his arms, trying to break free, but I couldn’t. I was perfectly trapped between the wall and his body, just like he intended.
His grip tightened around my waist, pulling me closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his battered body. “Why are you here?”
“Matteo brought me,” I said, my voice trembling.
Adrian’s eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flashing within them. “My brother brought you to my fight?” He laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. “Oh silly him, he brought you to my arena. To me.”
The implication hung between us like a poisonous blanket. I tried to push against his chest, but my hands slipped on the blood-slicked surface of his torn shirt.
“You killed that man,” I said, the accusation sharp in my voice before I could even mask it. “How can you be so calm about this?”
Adrian’s expression didn’t change, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not my first kill.”
The casual way he said it made my stomach clench. This was a man who had taken lives before, who had watched the light drain from another’s eyes and felt... what? Nothing?
“You were enjoying it…” I whispered, horrified.
“I enjoy the thrill... the anticipation...” His voice dropped lower, intimate despite the chaos still raging beyond the corridor. “The moment when life hangs in the balance. The feeling that I hold life and death in the palm of my hand is… exhilirating.”
He released my waist with one hand, bringing his fingers to his lips. They came away wet with blood—his blood.
Adrian lowered his hand to my neck and slowly, deliberately, he dragged his crimson-stained fingertips across my throat. Right over my pulse.
Thud.
My breath caught as his fingers lingered there, the warmth of his touch burning against my skin.
Thud. Thud.
His blood. On my throat. Possessing me. Marking me.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I should have recoiled. Should have slapped his hand away. But I stood frozen, mesmerized by the darkness in his eyes, the raw power radiating from him.
He was a mad, mad man.
And I was a silly, silly girl.
“Your heart is racing,” he observed, his thumb pressing gently against my pulse. “Are you afraid, Princess? Or excited?”
The question hung in the air between us, unanswered and unanswerable. Because I didn’t know. I truly didn’t know which emotion was coursing through my veins, fear or something darker, something more primal.
“Adrian.” His name fell from my lips, barely audible.
“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice rough. “Say my name like that.”
The sounds of The Pit continued around us, distant cheers, the clink of glasses, the murmur of voices, but they seemed to fade into nothingness.
There was only this corridor, this moment, this man with blood on his hands and darkness in his soul. And me, who somehow found herself completely hypnotized by this killer. Enraptured.
His teasing touch.
His guttural voice.
His dangerous words.
Him. Him. Him.
His blood on my skin. His breath on my lips.
Fuck, I was going crazy.
His insanity seemed to bleed into me, burrowing under my flesh, sinking into my veins. Consuming me.
Adrian pressed his body against mine, pushing his thigh between my legs, forcing me to spread them open. He fisted my dress with one hand, hiking it up, baring my thighs.
I could feel him.
All of him.
He was… hard.
God…
He pressed his hardness between the juncture of my thighs, thrusting against me.
My stomach pooled with heat. And there was a feeling… a throbbing between my legs that I had never felt before.
I clenched instinctively, seeking for something but feeling… empty.
His hips jerked and my hands fumbled toward his shoulders. My nails dug into his back.
His eyes darkened.
My breath hitched.
This was so wrong.
Stop.
Adrian grinded his erection against me. My lips parted with a silent, shocked gasp. He was so hard, I could feel him through the layers of our clothes.
He lowered his head, his warm breath fanning against my throat.
Adrian thrust into me, again and again, a motion too similar to… fucking.
He grunted against the skin of my throat, a sound so primal, so needy that it made my stomach dip to my toes.
My thighs trembled. Molten desire, sinful desire… spread through my veins and I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg.
For him to stop.
For him… not to stop.
No. No…
“Stop,” I finally whimpered.
“Serafina,” he groaned my name in my ear. “Fuck.”
He thrust once more, hard and forceful, and then held himself there, against my core. Where my panties were slick with my wetness.
“You’ll think about it when you lie in bed tonight, won’t you?” Adrian said roughly. “You’re going to think about this when you look at my brother across the dinner table. You’re going to think about it when you wear his ring and pretend to be his perfect wife.”
His words cut deeper than any blade. Because they were true.
“Your virgin pussy is wet for me, Princess and if I want to fuck you right now and have your blood all over my cock… you won’t even stop me. Am I right?”
I gasped at his words, my breath hitching, my eyes fluttering closed.
Shame and desire seemed to battle inside me.
His sin became mine.
And his need… his lust… wrapped around me like darkness, endless and consuming.
“Run,” he rasped. “And don’t look back.”
He pushed away from me, eyes dark, face filled with need, body tensed. My eyes lowered to where his… hardness made a dent in his black pants.
“Run.”
And I did. I ran as fast I could, as far as I could.
But silly me…
Adrian Salvatore was a curse I couldn’t outrun.