A woman who knew exactly what I was going to do before I’d even decided.
Who sensed my decision before I’d even gotten up the strength to go through with it.
Who had an intuition about me.
Who defied me.
Who goddamn ruled me.
How the fuck was I here, inside her villa, primed to fuck her while covered in the massacred carcasses of rodent and canine and not waving goodbye as she flew away?
Pika and Skittles—who’d followed us from the beach on whispering wings—squawked at my violent, bitter curse, peltering around the rafters with green feathers.
In the clutch of my fury, I only saw them as more things to die because of my failures. I wanted to cage them up, ship them away, extract them from my calamity so they could be safe.
Just like Eleanor.
Yet she was still here.
On my shores.
In her villa.
Walking into my goddamn arms.
I stiffened as her embrace wrapped around my waist, her ear pressing against my heart, her body resting flush to mine. She dared kiss the absolute butchery of my t-shirt, making my stomach roil and pulse stutter with so many aggressive things.
“Sully…speak to me. What did you see? What happened? You can tell me.” Her arms squeezed my waist, lying to me that she was strong enough to handle the spillage of such horror. Doing her best to convince me that the imagery of mangled paws blown from bleeding cadavers and snouts with broken teeth wouldn’t turn her into what I’d become.
A sorry, pitiful, raging, rabid human who would give anything for his own claws and fangs—to be a powerful predator so he could rip out the jugular of his enemies and feel the gush of blood down his throat. To be able to kill in primal, chaotic ways instead of being so weak to require weapons to do his massacring for him.
A knife wouldn’t be enough.
A gun wouldn’t be enough.
Nothing would be good enough to exterminate the life of my brother. The brother who threatened my creatures and my goddesses.
Who threatened her.
Snatching her chin, I arched her face up and stole her gasp with my teeth.
I kissed her brutally, brokenly. I kissed her until blood tainted our taste and something inside me snapped.
She thought she could help me?
She thought she could convince me to keep her?
I’d prove otherwise.
I’d show her just how dangerous loving a monster like me truly was.
It’s still over, Jinx.
You’ve just delayed the inevitable.
Seizing her from the floor, I carried her into the bathroom.
The same bathroom where she’d painted herself in magic, dressed in myth, and came to me gowned like a goddamn queen, all so she’d trick me into keeping her.
It’d worked then.
I’d fallen to my knees.
I’d fallen in love.
And look what happened as the result.
If I’d sold her to Roy Slater, my creatures would still be alive. They’d be barking and bleating, cooing and cawing. Instead of being silent for evermore.
Shoving her against the vanity, I snarled, “Stay right there. Do not move.”
She licked her lips, tonguing the small cut where I’d bitten her, and nodded.
With my gaze locked on hers, I tore off my t-shirt, kicked off my boots, and ripped off my socks, jeans, and boxer-briefs, leaving the blood-soaked pile on the floor.
I shredded myself from material, revealing the putridity of my skin beneath. The bruises from kicking tumbled buildings in pure rage. The cuts from rubble and the blending of my blood with animal.
My body was as branded as my clothing.
I stood before her naked, a symbol of vulnerability, but I seethed with rage I couldn’t shed so easily. Her grey eyes cast over me, lingering on the scars of my past, the lacerations and singes of my present, and the angry pulsing erection between my thighs.
I was desire and death all in one.
I scared myself with my ricocheting, ravenous needs, yet Eleanor just stared with an elegance I’d never been able to ruin, and a tranquillity that said I was safe to put aside my hate…just for a moment.
To find solace in her bravery and kindness.
A small part of me did want that. He wanted to drop to his knees and have her curl into his lap and rock. But the part of me that’d snapped no longer accepted her invisible crown or ethereal control over me.
I wanted her to hurt.
I wanted her to feel a tenth of the pain I carried.
Walking into her, I snatched her wrist again and yanked her into the shower.
I needed Nirvana.
I needed freshwater to surround me, drown me…but this would have to do.
Ripping on the cold water, I wrapped my arms around a struggling Jinx as she tried to outrun the icy liquid raining over us.
I added no heat, no comfort.
I needed the sleety needles.
I needed my temper to be extinguished before I did something I’d always regret.
Stay, Eleanor.
Please, Eleanor.
Fuck, Eleanor.
She gasped for air, the cold water stealing her breath. While she squirmed in my arms and her wet hair clung to her shoulders, I pawed at her black dress. I yanked it over her head and threw the heavy weight to slap drenched by the drain.