55
“I need answers. Are you even sorry for taking away my freedoms?”. I climb beside her and tug her little body against my chest. Her warmth floods my system, igniting my possessive side. I know exactly what she's asking. If I'm sorry for taking away her ability at being a mother.
“No,” I reply honestly. It was the only way to protect her.
She may not see it that way but so be it.
Her eyes snap open. Hatred fills her system, but it's gone in an instant, replaced with a probing gaze.
She slides her hand over my scars. My breathing stops.
I shut down. She doesn't need to know the depths of my depravity, or how deep it runs in my veins.
Maybe that shit is obvious. Her eyes are a warning, taunting my beast like a tempting disaster I cannot refuse.
She's the best high. A thrilling pleasure queen.
If this is what it takes to bring down Mortensen, while keeping her at my side, I’ll do it no matter the cost.
Her body molds to mine as if she's meant to be at my side, and fuck, she is.
We're gonna be the death of each other, and I accept it knowing nothing could bring us closer than the inevitable moments of our systematic downfall.
I'll do everything in my power to prevent it.
Though if we are destined to die, our last breaths will be together.
“I'd be a shit father,” I announce, hoping that gives her some semblance of understanding as to why I allow my sick ideations to control me.
She remains unreadable. I chuff. “You know, he wanted a perfect son. Someone to carry on his legacy. He commands respect and power. Always has. I don't do well being controlled as you know, Nightshade. He hates my disobedience. These scars are reminders of my defiance. I'm a fighter sweetheart,
not a lover.”
I click my tongue, unease filtering through me because opening up isn't what I do.
I keep my struggles to myself. No need to air out my shit.
I already knew from a young age my contumacy will be the death of me.
I'll never be a man worthy of her either, but no one else will have her but me.
Her eyes soften. It's almost refreshing if I were more sentimental.
“You two are more alike than you realize.”
Her words make me grimace. I can't tell if it's an insult or observation.
She's right. My distaste doesn't make it any less true.
I guess my old man somewhat succeeded in molding me into his minion.
She's worried about being destroyed by me as she should be.
I'm cruel, callous, and vicious. She's hardly scratched the surface of my ruthless malevolence, but I always get what I want and, in the end, I'll embrace my inner beast to rise to the top in this fucked world.
“Yeah,” I shake out.
She turns to me. She wets her pouty lips.
My eyes fall to the swell of her cupid's bow.
My cock swells. The guy has a mind of his own when it comes to her.
The fact I almost lost her is enough to break me.
“But you're also different,” she murmurs.
A deep husky laugh reverberates from my throat.
“Is that so, Nightshade?” My eyes skim over her features openly.
No reason to hide my desire toward her. She's a goddess and I intend to indulge her endlessly like a king.
Her eyes return the same feverish desire.
Her state of mind is being altered. Could be the medicine still in her system.
Could be my charm, either way I'll use every bit to my advantage.
My insides coil into self-satisfaction. “For someone who doesn't like darkness and danger, you sure like mine, sweetheart.”
I tease my tongue along the shell of her ear.
She lets out the most delicious gasp. I almost rip at her loose shirt.
I want her bruised body to sink onto my cock.
Anything to drown out the reality of the chain of events that has unfolded. No way her body is healed from me.
Her sweet voice fills my ears. “I'm fucked up and broken. I shouldn't want you. I shouldn't crave this—” she shakes her head over and over like it'll get the idea of us out of her pretty little head. Not a chance, Nightshade. I'll be your darkest bestial desire until we die.
And again, I find myself drawn to her mouth. So, I silence her useless ramble with a biting kiss.