“Please, Kai,” she breathes. She’s shaking under me. Violently.
My bride is begging me not to do the thing I promised not to do, the thing she’s afraid of most.
I want her with a desperation that borders on madness. But beneath the desire, there's a flicker of fear, a terrifying awareness of how close I am to losing myself completely.
I'm teetering on the edge of a razor, balanced between desire and destruction. One wrong move, and I'll slice us both to ribbons.
But oh, what a sweet fucking fall it would be.
Chapter 26
It’s like ten thousand Cinders, when all you need is a straw
CHARMING
My muscles tremble with the effort of restraining myself, my jaw clenched so tightly I can feel my teeth grinding. Sweat beads on my forehead, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I fight the urge to sink my fangs into Cinder’s soft, inviting flesh.
It would be so easy to give in, to let the monster inside me take control. But I can't. I won't. Even as my body screams for release, I cling to the last shreds of my humanity, desperate to prove that I'm more than just a slave to my thirst.
I jolt back to reality. I untangle my fingers from Cinder’s hair and wrench myself away from her.
Even as the hunger howls its protest, I know I've made the right choice. I am more than my thirst, more than the sum of my darkest desires. And I will not let them define me, no matter how loudly they roar.
What the hell was I thinking? Not once but twice of late, I almost gave into my thirst for my human bride. I'm losing my fucking mind.
Cinder stares at me, her eyes wide with a mix of pure terror and something else, something darker. Her hand flies to her throat, fingers trembling as they trace the spot where my fangs nearly pierced her skin.
“I'm sorry,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “I don't know what came over me. I wouldn’t bite you without your consent.” I give her a hard, searching look. My voice is hoarse with self-disgust. “I would never. . .”
Cinder narrows her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Really? Because it sure as hell seemed like you were about to.”
I flinch at the accusation in her tone. She's right. I was seconds away from sinking my teeth into her, from taking what I so desperately craved.
Shame washes over me, hot and sticky.
“I thought I was. . .” she starts with uncertainty.
“What?” I ask, urging her to go on. Remorse and shame are drowning me. I’m desperate to know what she’s thinking. I prefer she gives me the brunt of her judgment just so I can see what goes on behind those inscrutable violet eyes.
“I thought I was disgusting to you. What you said to the other boys that day.” Then she shakes her head before looking away. Arms crossing over her body, she shrinks in on herself until she becomes even smaller. “Never mind, you probably don’t remember.”
“I remember.” I’m deathly sober now, my body healing enough that my hands don’t scream in agony, and I can see out of my left eye again. The muddled bloodlust has abated and I’m thinking clearly. And I know exactly what she’s talking about. “Those boys were going to. . .” I didn’t want to finishthe sentence. It’s what I almost did just now. Take. Bite. Claim. “...play with you,” I finish grimly.
She swallows hard and nods. “Why would you want to bite me? You acted like—you said I was disgusting.” Cinder pauses. “I spent most of my life thinking you despised me.”
I take a step back, needing to distance myself from her words. It takes a moment to pull myself together. “No. No, Cinder. I don’t think you’re disgusting. I’ve never hated you. I’ve—I was trying to protect you.”
Cinder sways a little on her feet before reaching out to grasp the counter edge. As if she’s been so rocked, she can barely stand.
“I always thought we were kind of the same, you and I,” I explain. “Children of the important figures of Midnight, separate from the rest. Now that I say it out loud, I realize how ridiculous that sounds.”
She shakes her head slightly and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s assuring me I’m not ridiculous, or because she rejects the idea of what I’m saying.
Nausea burns through me.
“But even though I don’t find you disgusting,” even saying it is strange and so counter to the truth, it pains me, “I would never bite you without consent. And if those kids had tried anything with you, I would have ripped their heads clean off.” The rage still pulsates under my skin, now transferred from the past.
It’s transferred to the idea of anyone hurting the woman in front of me.
