He sounds so sure, but I know he won’t kill him. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because of me.
I let out a slow, tired breath and point downward, deliberately lowering my gaze—but I can't resist sneaking another glance.
There it is, just above the base.
My name.
He told me I owned him.
Said no one else would ever get to touch him, taste him, know him like I do. That his body, his madness, his cock—all of it—belonged to me
Last night, when he had me trembling under him, sweat slick skin, covered in blood and dirt, shaking from how many times he made me come, he made sure to remind me.
He meant every filthy, possessive word.
And it’s true, he is mine forever.
I arch a brow. “That, Malrik. That’s what you’re forgetting.”
He glances down too, expression neutral, and suddenly I feel very warm. His mouth then curls into a smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind last night, or this morning.”
I roll my eyes at him, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck. “Yeah, well, we didn’t involve an attempted murder in my bedroom. Or an audience.”
That wouldn’t be so bad, though.
Marik’s head jerked to the side from Darian's punch, and for a heartbeat, he faltered, just a flicker of imbalance. Then he twisted back, that familiar, wicked grin curling across his blood-slicked face. Blood dripped from his lip, and he licked it slowly, like the whole thing was nothing but a game.
Ah, shit.
“Oh, that was cute.” Malrik taunts, “You think just because I’m not allowed to kill you, I won’t tear your spine out and beat you with it?”
Darian didn’t move. He was calm as he stared back, and I didn’t like that.
“Anything is better than listening to you two.” Darian's fist comes forward again, slamming into the other side of Malrik's face with a brutal crack. Malrik barely reacts—just throws his head back and laughs, blood painting his teeth.
He’s enjoying this. That’s why he isn’t fighting back.
Yet.
“Jealous?” Malrik croons, straightening with the grace of a predator. “It’s okay. I would be too. Want me to tell you how she tastes?”
Please, shut up.
“How she sounds when she moans your name just as she cums?”
“Malrik,” I snapped.
But he's already moving.
Darian lunges—blade suddenly in his hand, pulled from the sheath at his back. His movements are fast and focused. Malrik dodges the first strike like he was waiting for it, then retaliates with a vicious uppercut that sends Darian stumbling back.
“Touchy,” he grins at him, licking more of his blood from the corner of his mouth like it's honey. “Did I hit a nerve? Or are you mad that I got to fuck her instead?”
“You need to stop, now.”
I stumble back as Darian lunges again, faster this time, his knife flashing. Malrik pivots with impossible speed—the blade scrapes his ribs, barely a scratch. He grabs Darian by theshirt, slamming him into the window with a bone-crunching force. Glass explodes around them, shards scattering, but Malrik doesn't even bat an eyelid.
Idiots are ruining my house.
