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“That knife,” I begin and slowly move my hand to point to the bruised spot on my arm. “I want you to carve something into my flesh.”
I’m fucking insane. A real psychotic piece of work hidden by a resting bitch face.
The silence between us has never been so long. As each second ticks, my stomach flips with uncertainty. Would he be willing to do it? Mark me up like a badge of honor to flaunt to all those who will be mesmerized to see these sick fuckers flaunting the woman that managed to survive their wrath and high standards.
“I can’t.”
My pout isn’t out of disappointment but more so confusion because his voice is conflicted.
“Not because you’re against the idea,” I pick up. “Why not?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at my arm.
Staring. Hiding how his mind is working overtime behind that mask of his.
It’s enough for me to do something stupid.
My hands grasp his chin, stilling his head as I go on my tiptoes and gently kiss his parted lips. It’s the first time I’ve beenwilling to initiate a kiss with a practical stranger—a cynical one at that.
Yet I won’t deny that it feels good.
Right.
The kiss is short, but I know my intention to ease whatever is destroying him within is working from how his body grows less rigid.
“You… kissed me.”
“I did.”
“But…”
“Sorry,” I apologize and mutter, “I didn’t ask permission.”
He doesn’t know how to respond when half his mask is up. He can’t be compassionate like his Masked Lover entourage and can’t be ruthless like his maskless self.
Leaving him imbalanced between two identities.
“What’s the other request?” he ends up asking.
That prompts me to blush before I look anywhere but him.
“Um… actually, never mind.” Whatever moment of confidence I had with the spontaneous thought was gone as fast as it came.
That doesn’t satisfy Zander, though.
I’m not only in his grasp, but I’m pinned to the ground in a blink. Looking at how he hovers above me only sends thrilling excitement through my body while my heart is drumming against my chest.
“Tell me, Sweet Dynamite.” He lifts his mask entirely and tosses it onto the grass, forcing me to acknowledge the manic expression on his face that makes me worry about my well-being. “Or I’ll force you, too.”
It’s a bit tempting, but this isn’t a game I want to play tonight. Not when I haven’t signed the dotted line, ensuring they can’t kill me for the hell of it.
Taking a deep breath, I decide it’s now or never.
To make an ally within this den of carnage.
“Tonight… I want you to make love to me.”
17
