“Do they still hurt, baby?” I ask, unfastening my belt and jeans before removing those, too.
By the time she answers, I’ve completely undressed.
“Sometimes,” she whispers. “Sometimes they burn. As if the blade never stopped cutting through my skin.”
I hum in response, the anger continuing to rise in my chest. Just like water boiling in a pot, it’ll bubble over until everything I touch burns with me.
“Sometimes,” she starts again, her voice raspy. “I wonder how you could still possibly want me.”
I meet her stare through the mirror as I approach her from behind. That plump bottom lip finds its way between her teeth, and fear flashes in her caramel eyes.
It reminds me of those moments when I was a stranger, and she was an obsession I only knew from afar. So many times, that same look crossed her eyes. When she saw my roses or when I stood outside her window. Even more so when she was wriggling beneath my hands, arching into my touch while begging me to go.
It satisfied the dark part inside me reserved only for the woman standing in front of a mirror, wondering how strong she really is.
I craved her beyond good intentions, morals, and doing what’s right. I wanted her so badly, I threw away those things to make her mine.
And if she thinks a dark mind and scars marring her flesh would deter me, she still doesn’t grasp how deeply I long for her.
I press into her back, the heat of our bodies transferring into one another. She feels like a slice of heaven I’ll never have the honor of seeing, but I’ve always preferred to find paradise in the depths of Addie’s body.
My hand slides up the column of her throat, encouraging her to tip her head back against my shoulder, mouth parted.
“I’ve followed you through lifetimes, Adeline. My soul needs you so badly that I’ve become a shadow, destined to hunt you for eternity.”
Her eyes flutter, and a little moan slips free, nearly writhing from the promise of haunting her soul.
She was fucking made for me.
“If you think scars are going to turn me away, then you haven’t seen just how cruel I can be,” I rasp.
Her breath hitches, and those caramel orbs round, flashing with trepidation as they focus on me. Her pulse thrums wildly beneath my hand, and I want to sink my fucking teeth into it so I can taste how much I scare her.
I snarl, letting the blackness in my soul bleed out and pour onto her skin, staining any innocence she had left. Those men took that from me, and I’ll be damned if I let them have any more of her.
With my free hand, I knock away hers and trace the scar she was picking at, earning a little gasp from her throat.
“These will become mine, too. I will put a blade to every single one and claim them as my own. The only thing you’ll see when you look at them is me,” I growl, my hand flexing around her throat.
“You wouldn’t,” she breathes, challenge sparking in her irises.
I grin wickedly, delighting in the sight of her fear deepening. Just as her nipples tighten, and her arousal permeates the steamy air.
“That’s it,” I whisper, right before I tighten my hold until her air supply cuts off. “Fear me, little mouse. Not the sick fucks who have no right over any part of you.”
Then, my other fist flies out, cracking the mirror. She flinches in my grasp, her nails scoring into my flesh as I pick a piece of glass out and present it to her.
Relaxing my grip, she greedily sucks in oxygen while keeping her eyes pinned to the shard of glass. She’s trembling, and I roll my hips into her pert ass, groaning when she only shakes harder.
“Point me to the first one,” I order.
I’m giving her a choice. I may be scaring her blind, but she knows how to get out of my hold. She knows how to turn the weapon on me instead.
She knows how to fucking fight me.
Sucking in an uneven breath, she points her finger to her stomach.
Deliberately, I move my hand to the spot, watching her closely through the broken mirror. Her gaze is locked on the glass, inhaling sharply when I press it into her skin, directly over the scar.