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I brought the gun back up and opened the chamber in front of Noah. Gave it a little shake for show. Empty. No bullets.

His stare ignited at the sight. I had played him. In all the right ways.

“Noah, When I leave this world, it will be on my own accord. On my own terms, with what I choose. I’d never leave that up to chance. I live for control. I thrive in authority. I am my own God.”

I dropped down to the floor between his legs, enjoying how they quivered as I pulled his hips flush against my face.

“You are the only thing that can bring me to my knees and make me succumb.”

Chapter thirteen

Sin

NOAH

Silas had fucking tricked me.

There were no bullets in his gun. There never was.

In that moment, watching him pull the trigger so violently, so quickly, I had thought I’d lost him.

I don’t even know how to name the sound that escaped my lips as I watched him fire, not once, but twice. After knocking the gun to the floor, all I could think about was how I wanted to drag him into me. Protect him. Become one with him.

Like Frankenstein’s monster, I wanted to mesh all of our fucked up pieces together.

I was melting from the inside out because he’d finally found out how to harness that walking-on-a-glass-floor-stories-high adrenaline in me. That never knowing the outcome, teetering on the edge of the multi story building feeling. Silas knew what got me. He understood what made me tick, what made me hard, what sparked fear into me.

And damn, if he wasn’t using every weapon in his arsenal.

Before I knew it, I was on my back, gazing up into the wicked gray flames of his eyes against a city building backdrop. About to fuck Mr. Thorne on his office desk with his fancy name printed across the side. He had me ensnared, and I was powerless to stop it.

Silas glided to his knees easily, disappearing from my view. Only his taught little bun was visible between my legs. His arms snaked their way around my thighs and pulled me closer until my ass was nearly hanging off the edge of the desk. I whimpered, my cock stiff and needing to be touched.

I could feel Silas separating my cheeks, his tongue trailing down my abdomen, Across my pubic bone, in between my thighs. He grazed my cock with his teeth, lower and lower, until I knew I was sweating with anticipation.

I’d never tell him, but this was something new to me. Giving a rim job was a deep form of submission that I didn’t partake in during sexual encounters. Not that I never considered it, just to me, it was so incredibly intimate and deviant all rolled into one. I never met someone who I trusted enough to do it with.

But Silas was different. I had trusted him with everything. My secrets. My pain. And with him, I was somehow always willing to try what he wanted. Or maybe I was so tempted by him that I couldn’t resist.

It almost didn’t feel real that Silas was about to do this to me now. My head whirled. Colors, stars, patterns played across my vision. Every touch felt like little fireworks beneath my skin, bursts of heat, foreshadowing a pleasure soon to arrive. I had to fight my body not to arch into his touch.

“Do you know how many scars you have?” His voice emerged suddenly, breaking my erratic train of thought.

“I — what?”

“Your scars. Do you know how many times you were cut?”

My mouth grew dry, and I wasn’t sure what Silas intended to accomplish by asking me that. A wave of sadness and nausea surfaced suddenly. I had to work hard to keep my tears at bay as I began to remember each carving and slice David had dealt my small body.

“No,” I said firmly. I hadn’t ever thought to count them. Only cover them.

Silas’s fingers were tracing them. I could feel it. Even as I stared up into the whitewashed ceiling tiles with peppered spots of black, I knew he was analyzing each one, mapping every curve and plane on my skin.

I sighed in frustration. “Silas—”

“Twenty-six,” he confirmed. “You’ve got twenty-six scars. The healed one under your eye makes twenty-seven.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You… you counted?”