“The kind of person who craves the rush of being forced toward the edge.” He lifted his hand, his thumb carrying a tiny drop of blood. “The kind of person who desires to be pushed past her own limits.”
The low hum of dark, sexual allure that hung around his every word sent a wave of electricity down my spine. The way he had managed to sum up my entire past in two sentences boggled my mind.
Crave the rush of being forced to the edge…desired to be pushed past her limits.
That was me. That was my deepest, darkest desire for almost my entire adult life—to have someone push my body, force me to go beyond what I thought I was capable of. Yet I never allowed myself to embrace that part of me, never sought out the kind of person who would be able to satisfy that need deep within me—which was why I ended up giving it to myself, by slicing through my own skin.
“You don’t know me,” was all I could say between clenched teeth.
“Oh, but I do, little mouse.” His palm touched my cheek, and he touched my lips with his thumb, staining my mouth with my own blood. “The scars on your thighs speak volumes.”
Even though my mind urged me to jerk away from his touch, my body refused. The way his touch ignited a fire across my skin was too enticing, and I silently cursed my own fucking body for liking it.
He leaned closer. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Miss Linscott.”
When his palm left my cheek, I shuddered. The thought of being alone again, not having him close, terrified me.
“No, please. Wait.”
What the hell am I doing?
He gave me a sideway glance before turning back toward me. “Something I can do for you, Miss Linscott?”
“Please…don’t…don’t leave me alone.” The words burned the inside of my mouth, the fact that I was begging my captor not to leave. But I couldn’t let him walk away again, leaving me at the mercy of all the men around me, at the mercy of Vico.
A wicked grin spread along his face, the five o’clock shadow he had when I saw him the first time now a slightly longer, neatly trimmed beard.
“You think you’re safer with me?”
“No…yes…I don’t know.”
A few swift steps and he was right in front of me again, his eyes beaming down with amusement. This close, right here, right now, the resemblance between him and Carlo momentarily took my breath away. The only thing tearing them apart was the scar around Castello’s eye, adding more danger, more treacherous substance to the already nerve-wracking intimidation that seemed to reach for the wretched decadence hidden deep within my soul. There was also the elongated pupil that seemed to demand my attention every time I looked into his eyes.
“Which is it, Tatum? Yes or no?”
I struggled to think, my mind a battlefield of thoughts that had no place inside my head in the first place. Thoughts of Carlo and the long nights we spent together. Then thoughts of Castello, wondering—no,knowinghe was the type of man who could give me what I’d wanted for so long. But it was so fucked up. He wanted to hurt me, wanted to kill me, yet my body was starting to crave him. How was that even possible?
Without warning, he reached out, grabbed my ass in the palm of his hand, squeezing hard, his fingers digging into my flesh before slowly moving his hand downward.
With a jerk, he pulled my leg up and cradled it between his arm and his hip. The desire that flared inside my core right at that second made me whimper and made my body weep with desire.
“Do you think you’re safer with me than with the rest of these men?”
My body overruled my mind, and I answered a soft, subtle, “Yes.”
He slanted his head to the side, his irises almost completely black. “Wrong answer.”
And then there was fire. It scorched my skin as I felt the slice of a blade across my inner thigh. I winced, closing my eyes as the pain suddenly consumed every nerve. But then there was that familiar rush of relief, of life…of ecstasy, and a moan escaped me, loving the way my desire and the pain all came together in a blast of twisted pleasure.
“Fuck,” he cursed, and I opened my eyes only to see him stare down at the tiny trace of blood easing out of the wound—a wound he inflicted with the silver razor he still held in his other hand.
He cut me.
Castello cut me…and I loved it.
He looked up, and I saw the hunger that consumed him, the same hunger that now burned inside me, hankering for more.
“You think you’re safer with me, Tatum, but you’re not. I’m the one you should stay away from, the monster you should fear.”