Page 45 of Torn By Fate

He pulled me against him with such force that it stole the breath from my lungs and the rest of my sentence. My body collided with his chest, every inch of me pressed flush against every hard part of him—his chest, his abdomen, and the dangerous heat of his thighs against mine.

I tried to wrench free from his hold, but I was effectively trapped in his solid arms.

The scent of him… clean soap, a musky cologne and something darker, something uniquely Adrian, flooded my senses until I couldn’t think.

His hand released my wrist only to find my jaw, fingers curling beneath my chin with a grip that was both tender and absolute. He tilted my face upward, and his terrible, beautiful eyes searched mine.

“You tried to kill me, and you will pay for that. Your punishment still awaits, Serafina, and you will regret ever betraying me. But I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Because I need the taste of your lips on mine.”

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even a warning.

It was a declaration.

His mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss was brutal and possessive. Devouring. Consuming. His lips moved against mine with a desperate, savage hunger that made my knees buckle.

I tried to turn my head, tried to break free, but his grip on my jaw held me in place mercilessly. He kissed me the way he did everything—completely, without reservation, as if he had every right to take what he wanted from me.

His tongue swept past my lips, claiming the inside of my mouth with the same ruthless invasion. He tasted like mint.

I did the only thing I could do at that moment.

I closed my eyes and bit him.

My teeth sank into his tongue with every ounce of fury I possessed, the taste of copper instantly flooding my mouth. I expected him to pull back with a curse.

But Adrian didn’t even flinch.

I waited for the fury instead, the retaliation or the violence I knew he was capable of.

Instead, he made a sound—low, guttural, almost pleased—and kept kissing me.

His hand tightened on my jaw, holding me in place as his blood mingled with my saliva, filling my mouth. He pressed closer, deeper, forcing me to taste it, to swallow it, to take him into me in the most intimate violation I could imagine.

My throat worked involuntarily as I swallowed, feeling the warmth of his blood and saliva marking me from inside.

The thought should have horrified me.

It did…

I hated it.

I hated him.

I hated the way my body responded, the traitorous heat pooling low in my belly. My hands, which should have been pushing him away, had somehow found their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric, anchoring him to me.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I felt the maddening rhythm of his heartbeat against my palm.

The room tilted and spun.

He kissed me until the blood in my mouth was indistinguishable from the blood in his, until I couldn’t remember which breath was mine and which was his.

My knees threatened to buckle beneath me, and Adrian felt it; he knew in the same way he somehow knew every damn thing about my body.

He walked us backward until my calves hit the edge of the bed.