Page 46 of Of Sins and Psychos

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...why? Why does he keep saving me only to threaten me all over again?

The moment he has hold of my hand, I’m jerked forward. My back slams to the wall, and he covers me with the weight of his chest, his palm sliding up to cover my mouth as well. His spiraling black horns give him an impossible height on me, forcing me to angle my neck to look into his manic eyes. Adeptly, he curls one finger after the other over my mouth. He doesn’t put pressure there as he breathes down on me.

“That man wanted to kill you. The longer you stay, the more other assassins will come. To. Kill. You.”

I don’t thrash against him. I listen.

“Other kingdoms want you dead. I—I want you gone.”

Why?

He sees the flash of curiosity in my eyes.

“Leavon’s a cruel king. But he also doesn’t make waves. Change is what makes waves. And I’ve looked into you enough to know you’ll cause change. No one wants that.”

What does that mean?

My teeth snap out and sink into his flesh before he can pull his hand away.

His lips curl with hatred, but he slowly lowers his palm, choosing to grip my jaw instead of my mouth.

“I don’t know what you think you know about me, but I can’t leave.”

“You will,” he whispers. His fingers tighten one by one around my neck, and he lifts me with steady strength ever so slowly until my boots only minimally scuff the floor. “Nod your pretty little fucking head and tell me you’ll leave tonight.”

A smile carves my lips as his nails bite into my throat. I lean into him, and his stargazing eyes watch me intently for my reply. His lips morph strangely, revealing a veil of thin magic that’s hiding something sinister beneath his pretty face.

“Fuck you,” I whisper on a trembling breath and a smile that says I’ll die with this smugness on my lips. My lashes flutter, making it impossible to hold eye contact with him long enough to call out to the magic that’s lost within me.

Harder he squeezes, lifting me even higher than before.

My legs shift, but I’m still too stubborn to make a sound or disrupt the beautiful date happening downstairs. The best I can do is lift myself, my legs wrapping around him to give me a prop to lean into. My body wraps around his, my nails sinking into his forearms as I try to hold myself up by purely using his body.

I’m not stronger than him, but I know the magic I once had could help. I just have to try.

My eyes narrow on him. I lock gazes, and I try to reach that darkness that’s still within me. I can feel it. I know I can do it if I just hold eye contact. I—

His hand jerks my head forward before bringing it back down against the brick wall. Blinding colors flash behind my lids. He struggles with me, his hips slamming painfully into mine to release my clamped limbs from around his lithe frame. My spine hits the wall hard, but still I don’t relent. His shifting turns impatient. His palm slips against my throat, and it’s then that he seems to notice the dampness there: the blood sliding beneath his fingertips.

The silver flecks in his gaze darken, and the black chases out the light until he looks up at me with big inky orbs. It’s a fraction of splitting time as his gaze dances across my body, the blood, our closeness. The memory of his lips against mine flicker through my thoughts as spots of white and black sting the edges of my vision.

Rugged, desperate breaths skim against my mouth.

And then he slams his mouth violently to mine.

A single beat of uncertainty stutters through me before my lips part, and his tongue slides over mine. His hold on my throat remains, but it shifts, allowing a jagged breath to hit my lungs between his cruel, consuming kiss.

I don’t know why I do it. It’s the logic of considering something dangerous tangled up with the thrill of actually doing it. My heart hammers for more. The moan trembling along my tongue agrees.

My hips rock into his, and he meets me immediately. The hardness beneath his pants grinds into my core just right, and without hesitation, I slide my hands between us, shoving down the thin layer of my leggings as he continues to hold me. His hand lowers, holding the curve of my ass with one hand while keeping his threat locked around my throat.

But like a gentleman, he assists when I kick out of my leggings and panties.

And before I even realize it, his rigidness is sliding against my sex. Every defined vein and every smooth inch of him skims my wetness. He teases my clit, slipping back and forth and back and forth as he holds my gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Say you’ll leave,” he whispers along my cutting breaths.

My tongue glides out to wet my lips, tasting blood there as I shake my head once more.


Tags: A.K. Koonce Paranormal