She licks her lips, but no words come out.
So, I grab her chin and tilt her face up to mine. “Listen to me, little witch.”
The rain beats down, soaking us both to the bone. There’s blood in the mud surrounding us, creatures in the forest, but none of that matters.
Not the storm.
Not the shadows.
Not even the damn overgrown lizard.
All I see is her. And right now, I want her—so fucking badly I can barely breathe.
My cock also might combust if it isn’t in her sweet pussy sometime soon.
“Don’t you ever feel guilty for what you want. If they’re who you want, who you need, take them. Fuck it all. But only if you still want me to—because I’m far too fucking selfish to walk away now.” I grip her waist, yanking her tight against me like I need her to think straight. “And before you even think about asking if I want someone else…” I lean in, my mouth dragging up the side of her neck, tongue flicking over that racing pulse that’s practically screaming for me.
“There’s no one else. No one. It’s you, little witch. Only ever you.”
My teeth graze her skin as I growl, “You’re mine.”
“And Ronan’s.”
I thought he would be the first to fall for our silver-haired beauty.
I pull back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Did he fuck you?”
She blinks, just once—but that’s enough. That tiny little hitch in her breath, that flicker of hesitation.
He so took our girls' virginity.
Lucky fucker.
I slip my hand under the hoodie—his hoodie, because of course it is—my fingers gliding over her cold, rain-damp skinuntil I find what I’m looking for. I tug at her nipple, hard, and the sound she makes goes straight to my cock.
Ronan might have had all of her first, but I have a little present for her, so she knows I will always belong to her.
“Are you mad?” she whispers, breath trembling, a soft moan escaping her lips.
Mad at her? Never. Annoyed that she would even wonder? Absolutely. We’d gone over this before, but clearly, she needed a more… convincing demonstration.
“On your knees.”
Her silver eyes flicked to the mangled bodies behind me, blood still dripping from my hands.
“Why?”
I pressed my thumb into her mouth, forcing her tongue down, my other hand gripping her throat with a possessive crush. “Because I need to feel you choking on my cock before I bury myself inside you, surrounded by the blood of your enemies. Nowkneel.”
She doesn’t fight it. My little witch just smirks, that wicked glint in her eye that tells me she’s every bit as fucked up as I am, and she doesn’t need to hide that part of herself. She drops to her knees, the sound of her hitting the blood-soaked floor before me. Her head tilts up, and I’m lost for words at how beautiful and pure she looks kneeling before me.
But I know the truth. There’s nothing pure about her when it comes to this. Not with the way she looks at me.
She doesn’t need to hide the darkest part of her—not from me. I crave it. It’s the part that mirrors my own madness, the part that tells me she was made for a monster like me.
It’s insane, maybe it's reckless, but I’m starting to think I might actually love her.
My dead, twisted heart is hers. Every shattered fragment belongs to her, and that means anyone who dares touch her,looks at her wrong, or even breathes near her—especially the ones who want her dead—lands straight on my personal beheading list.
