She stares, looking at my fangs. She’s humoring me. But her expression doesn’t change.
No fear.
Either she truly believes I won’t hurt or she doesn’t fear dying. Or both.
Slowly, I release my grip on her hair, letting her pull away. I don’t know how I have this control. Anyone else I would have already sunk my teeth into them.
I’ve never wanted to taste blood more. Never craved it so intensely.
Yet, somehow, my body freezes in place. Fangs hovering but not daring to scrape against her skin.
Who is this exquisitely beautiful creature that controls me so completely?
Maybe she is right. Maybe I won’t kill her.
I don’t know why. I’ll probably die before I get my answers, but this woman whose name escapes me means something to me.
I’ve gone savage.
I can’t remember a single name in my brain.
Can’t even remember who I was before this.
A killer.
A monster.
Death.
The words remind me, over and over. But I had to have been something more at one point. Something softer, kinder maybe, someone who meant someone to this woman.
She reaches forward without hesitation, she cups my face until I’m looking at her—searching my eyes for something. Her hand feels so soft, so gentle that I lean into her touch. Her lips thin as she sees whatever she’s looking for.
But her examination doesn’t stop at my face. She quickly scans my entire body as horror spreads across her sweet face.
“What did they do to you?” she whispers, anger punctuating ever word. No answer is expected—just her fury building at what I’ve endured.
I don’t know who she is, but the witches have made a catastrophic mistake using me to hurt this woman. I’m not a seer. I have no ability to see premonitions. But I know this—she will burn the world down in the name of revenge for me.
That terrifies me and thrills me, what this woman is capable of. The devastation she would unleash without hesitation.
But I don’t want her to lose herself because of me.
“How interesting,” the witches voice breaks through. I’m sure she’s spoken to me before now, but this is the first time I hear it.
It seems to register with the woman now too. She stands, and I see for the first time how magnificent she really is. Beauty doesn’t do her justice. No clothes cover her body. But she doesn’t cower. Definitely not from me as she extends her hand to me, letting me view every curve, muscle, and piece of resilience in her body.
I gently take it, unsure of what else to do, she helps me to my feet. I’m unbalanced on my feet and brush up against her body as I do. Her soft welcoming curves hit me, but as she steadies me, she sees the gruesomeness that is my back.
Rage floods her eyes and she glares at the witch. “You will die for this.”
“Not before you and your vampire lord,” she says back.
“Nyx won’t kill me,” she says so sure again.
“Maybe not, but you love him. And he’s dying. Will you die from heartbreak? Or in a killing rage after he’s gone?”
She stills, her hand clinging to mine as she intertwines our fingers together.