God, am I attracted to this?
As I take in his face, the haunting paint still shapes his features, the sinister lines framing and sharpening his jawline, but now I see what was hidden before beneath his hood.
His hair—long on top, dark brown waves falling messily forward, almost covering his gaze and licking around his ears.
I barely noticed it last night since everything had been cloaked in leather, darkness and an overwhelmingpresencethat suffocated the air around him.
But now? Now, I see him in the light.
Shit.
Why is he strangely… hot?
Much hotter than I ever should’ve let myself realize. Am I suddenly into the whole deranged, deadly aesthetic? Becausefuck, I think I might be.
No.Snap the fuck out of it. He screws dead girls, remember? Death ain’t worth it, and neither is he.
His gaze moves from mine, slowly sliding over to the girls now huddled in the corner, pressing together like they think it’ll make a difference.
He says nothing and his face remains blank, as if he isn’t even mortal. A low, deep growl rumbles from his chest, quiet but full of warning and the sound crawls through the air as his teeth flash, just for a moment, a dangerous glint that makes them all flinch.
They don’t need any more. There’s a sharp inhale, a squeak and a frantic scramble that follows. They dart for the door, tripping over each other, desperate to get the fuck out.
As soon as they’re gone, the silence slams into the room like a brick wall and his red eyes are lock onto mine again. I swallow hard, then my teeth grind as he moves with unhurried steps in such a way, it makes my chest squeeze tight.
Before I even have the sense to run, he’s already too fucking close, but that doesn’t stop me. I dodge to the right, hoping to slip past him and head for the door, but his arm shoots out fast. His big hand slams around my throat, completely smothering it, his grip like steel as he yanks me into him with little effort.
My back crashes against the front of his body, the heat of him searing through my layers of clothing, his frame swallowing me whole. His fingers squeeze around my throat, pressing deep, cutting off just enough air to make my pulse beat in my skull.
My nails latch onto his arm, digging in, probably drawing blood, but it doesn’t make a damn difference. He doesn’t give a shit; he probably likes it.
The panic hits fast, surging through my body like ice as a familiar, unwelcome feeling coils. I haven’t been touched like this, so rough, since that night, and my body remembers before my mind can fight back. It took me a damn long time for me to stop flinching when a man moved too fast, and I’ll be damned if I start again now.
Because this isn’t then. And he isn’t them.
I’m not who I was. And I can fucking handle him.
He may be bigger and scarier, but one thing I won’t fucking be is his little victim. He will be mine in this mind fuck of a game.
My gaze flicks to the mirror in front of us, and I hold my breath at the sight. His head is tilted down, his sinister eyes dragging over every inch of me.
He’s taking in every part of me—the curve of my collarbone, the swell of my tits, the way his fingers press deep into my throat, claiming, restraining and owning.
His thumb pushes harder, feeling the frantic drum of pulse beneath my skin, and his eyes slowly roll back before they close, like he’s relishing the rhythm of my fear and my life.
Then, without warning, he lets me go.
I suck in a sharp breath as he takes a step back and my hand flies up to my neck, trying to rub away his heated touch still lingering there.
Rage coils fast, wrapping around my body like barbed wire and before I even think, I snatch the paintbrush off the vanity.
I spin, arm raised, and without hesitation I drive the pointed edge toward his eye. But he catches my wrist inches from his red contact and in one brutal motion, he twists my arm behind my back, lifts me, slams my ass onto the vanity and drags my body against his.
No space. No air. Just fervour, sexual tension and a fucking burn of fury barely held back.
As I glare up at him, chest heaving, something hot pools at the pit of my stomach from the close proximity and his dominance, but I push it away with everything I’ve got.
God, this isn’t the time to be getting turned on by this psycho. My head tilts back further as he lowers his face to mine, a growl tearing through his teeth, low and full of warning.