His face hardened, a mask filling his features. I noticed a deep shade of crimson rising up his cheeks, and I that gave me the answer that I needed on how he truly felt.
“Yeah. I needed to release myself. She was more willing than you.”
His words, a cruel barb aimed straight at my heart, felt strangely liberating. The anger, the hurt, the years of suppressed longing. It all threatened to erupt.
I stepped closer, the space between us shrinking until our bodies nearly touched. "Release yourself?" I echoed, my voice dangerously low. "Or was it something more? Like how it was when you fucked my sister?"
The cactus within me augmented, but strangely bittersweet in its brutal honesty. I didn’t mean to go there, but it just slipped out. Must be because of all the ghosts circling me lately.
The crimson faded to a sickly pallor. His eyes, dark and shadowed, pierced so deeply into me.
He stepped closer. I stepped backward.
Too close.
Not close enough.
I wanted to scream.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Caiden's demeanor shifted; he became a threatening figure, poised to attack.
"It means I can see right through you," I said, exhaling deeply. "You're angry you can't have what you truly want, so you forcefully take something else. You're no different than most men, and I keep letting myself forget that by your damn charm. I’m allowing myself to forget the destruction you created.”
His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his temple.
Then, he laughed. A harsh, humorless sound that scraped against the raw edges of my own pain. "You think you know me?" he spat, his voice a low snarl. "You think you understand anything?" He stepped forward again, the scent of his cologne – usually comforting – now felt like a suffocating blanket. “I’m so much worse than most men, I would fucking ruin you.”
I didn’t flinch. I met his gaze, both our breaths heavy and quick, tension curled around our throats.
His eyes softened for only a moment, then became a fierce flame.
He reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek, a touch both tender and menacing. The cactus bloomed, a fiery explosion of pain and revelation.
This wasn't about Sydney, or release, or even me. This was about the monster he kept chained, the one he couldn't control, the one that fed on his anger and twisted his desires.
And in that moment, seeing the raw, terrifying truth in his eyes, I understood. I understood, and I was terrified.
His fingers, as light as a phantom, trailed down my cheek to my neck, to my arms.
I gulped, my fiery dying down, eclipsed by a nervousness that always clenched me when his power overcame me. There was something alluring about him. His touch, his voice. It taunted me, tempted me.
Stars in my eyes erupted, then crashed.
“You are my madness, Amelia.” His lips were so close, his eyes searched mine, his fingers tightening their grip.
“The feeling is mutual.”
He pressed himself closer, and I could nearly feel a bulge near his groin.
Was this turning him on?
A wave of sickness yet excitement coursed through my bones.
"Is this what you want?" he breathed, leaning close enough for his breath to ghost my ear, his hands gripped my waist. "To push you up against the wall and fuck you the way I did Sydney? I'd give you the best pleasure you've ever known, but it would cripple you. Because I'm not the kind of guy who cuddles and gives women flowers; I'm the kind who makes them scream and run."
My own breath hitched. The raw, animalistic hunger in his eyes mirrored a terrifying hunger within me. Was this the precipice of destruction, or a twisted, intoxicating dance?
A dance with the devil,I thought, a chilling smile playing on my lips. His words were a terrifying invitation. I wanted him, I craved the destruction, the pain, the exquisite agony he promised.
