Dressed in a band shirt, jacket, and combat boots, he’s the incarnation of Death in physical form. Most people think deathcomes silently—no. It comes with a deranged smirk, a black claw, and the promise of retribution.
The red of a cigarette hangs from his mouth, and I watch as it brightens, him inhaling a puff of smoke. I don’t lower my blade, but I don’t move away; his heat is a balm to the late spring chill.
Killian Linwood is the only man on this earth who can turn my indifference into fury, who can bring down all my shields and make a home inside their walls. He’s the only man who can comfort me, see me weak, but also whom I wouldwillinglykill and toss his body into a burn pit in the middle of the woods.
A breeze blows over us, and I shudder, Killian tilting his head. Those almond-dark eyes sweep over my body, a branding like none other, taking in the thin night outfit, down to my bare feet and black-painted toes.
“Realmenacing,” he drawls, pushing the knife away from his neck with barely a blink. The urge to stab him whispers in my ear. “A burglar wouldn’t know if you’re going to fuck him or kill him in that getup.”
Glaring, I hold the knife to my chest like a shield. It’s not like I planned it. After ignoring Hayes’ advice to call Reese—my boyfriend? No,ew, that doesn’t sound right—I grabbed the first thing to slip into after a shower. Slicing someone and listening to their muffled screams takes a lot of energy, and I was ready to drop.
“Does yourboyfriendknow you’re around men dressed like that?” He flicks ash away, soulless eyes watching my reaction.
I choose to keep my face neutral. “Why are you here?”
“I told you I was staying.”
I scoff. “You always say you’ll stay, but very rarely do you.”
It’s a dig, and it hits the mark. He swallows, glancing away to the blackened grounds, bathed in white moonlight.
A long time ago, Killian Linwood made beautiful promises of staying here, with me, while I looked for a way to take over the clan.
Then he left. No calls. No notes. He left and took my whole fucking soul with him, obliterated my trust and my heart, leaving me a pile of ground-up bones and broken sobs. If not for Hayes, my best friend, I would’ve ended things.
When he returned—unexpectedly, again—he thought I would fall to my knees for him.
Fucking. Pass.
As a young girl, fresh from abuse and looking for salvation, I put all my faith into Killian. I gave him every ounce of love I could find inside my tarnished soul, and I relied on him to never hurt me.
But he did. And I won’t fucking let that happen again.
“We know the Board is coming for you.” He flicks ash away again, inhaling on the butt as if it’ll rid a bitterness on his tongue. “We’re in this mess because of our impulse control issues.”
“Ourimpulse control issues?” I repeat. “We’re in this mess becauseyoufucking shot Ferguson.”
I had a goddamn plan. One that I spent months putting in place without his help.
But then he fuckedeverythingup. He killed my father, gave me the throne, and left me to deal with an enraged Board full of men who would rather burn my home—my family, my clan—to the ground than watch a woman lead.
“Weren’t you supposed to see yourboyfriend?” He scans me again, ignoring my bite.
“Why? Keeping tabs on me?”
He grins, and it’s unpleasant. “Must have beenriveting,” he drawls. “I can only imagine the mental stimulation he provides, Princess.”
“It’s not the mental stimulation I’m after,” I snap, digging my barbs as deep as I can get them. I’ve been broken, gushing blood because of him. I want to make him bleed, too. “He providesotherstimulation I need.”
A muscle feathers by his ear, and I know my provocations are getting to him.Good.
Flicking the cigarette away, he chuckles, and the hair on the back of my neck rises. This isn’t his amused laugh or his sarcastic chuckle. This is laughter that strikes cold fear into his enemies, and it’s directed at me.
His hand snaps out, clawing into my neck, moving me like I’m a fucking doll for his entertainment. Slamming me into the brick wall, he roughly pins my back, digging into the exterior. Pain explodes along my spine, but I refuse to cry out.
I raise my knife, but he twists my wrist over my head, knocking it free. It falls to the ground at our feet, lost to the darkness over the edge. Shoving his knee between my legs, he cages me in.
For years, I was never the one with power. Forced to my knees for a man twice my age, I was made to submit because that’s what good,obedientwives do.
