The second the mask is secured to his face, he’s not my husband. He is rage. He is danger. He’s not the King of the East Coast.
He’s the Harbinger of Death.
And God help me, he’s beautiful.
He switches the hand that’s holding my throat, tilting my head back and staring hungrily at the heartbeat pounding against my throat.
His eyes find mine. The fire in them is nothing short of wild. Uninhibited and raw with desire. I look deep into those icy blue eyes as my eyes fill with tears from the lack of oxygen.
“I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.”
He tugs his own jeans down, just enough to free his throbbing erection, and without another word or warning, he takes me like he’s always wanted to.
“Do you love me?” he growls into my throat as he thrusts ravenously.
“Yes,” I whimper. “Yes, Christian, I love you.”
“What’s your safe word?”
“Mykonos.”
The moment it leaves my lips, I feel a sharp sting on my cheek. I look up at him, wide-eyed and shocked. He slapped me. Not enough to hurt me, but enough to sting.
Enough to make me want him even more.
“I didn’t ask if you loveChristian Reeves.” He says the name like it is a bitter poison on his lips as his hand returns to my throat. “I asked if you loveme.”
I let out a shuddering breath and reach for his face. I cup his masked cheeks in my hands and press our foreheads together.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I love you. I love every piece of you. Even the parts I shouldn’t love. Even the parts of you that have unraveled all the parts of me.Especiallythe terrifying parts that you’ve tangled into my soul.”
There’s a stray gun resting on the table next to me. I loosen his grip on my throat and make him point it at my head, not caring that it might be loaded.
I breathe through my teeth and whimper. “Now break me so you can love me back together.”
His free hand cocks the gun, and he places it back at my temple. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you!”
He begins to fuck me like a savage, grunting into my neck, making sure I feel every inch of him inside me for days. He finishes inside me with a feral roar, and I follow right behind.
I take a deep breath, and before I remove his mask, I kiss him, hoping that even through the material, he can feel that I told him the truth.
I’ve fallen in love with the most unlovable, virulent, tragic parts of him.
And I’ve decided I love the taste of poison.
CHAPTER 53
THE ANGEL
