Page 100

Levelling Theo with a sultry gaze, I slowly walk toward him, gesturing to the wall behind him. Arching a brow, he does as I say, backing up against it. Maintaining eye contact with him, I slowly unzip my jacket and it slips down my shoulders. I step out of my leggings, leaving myself in only a lacey scrap of fabric that barely contains my breasts or leaves much to the imagination anywhere else. He draws his lower lip into his mouth as his eyes trace up and down my body, making me feel heated in ways I didn’t think I could feel after turning.

Lust dances in his eyes as they travel over my bare skin. Striding toward him, I lean up and press my mouth to his, our tongues clashing in a deep kiss as my hand drags down his chest and over his hard stomach, feeling every rigid line of muscle beneath me. I suck his lip between mine and he moans into me. Bunching up the fabric of his shirt, I yank it over his head and discard it to the side.

With my other hand, I reach for one of the crossbows hanging on the wall. I pluck it off and his eyes pop open as I take even steps back, slinging it over my body. His lips part and his hair looks devilishly messy as his gaze finds mine in the dim light, those impossibly dark eyes looking as gorgeous as ever.

The air between us thickens as he swallows. The way he stares at me isn’t just desirous, it’s possessive. He knows he has claimed me, and I have claimed him. His gaze roams over me, slow and deliberate like a caress.

I wonder what I must look like, dressed in such revealing lingerie with a crossbow strapped to me.

‘Violence looks lovely on you,’ he purrs.

Fighting an urge to sneer, I raise the crossbow and aim it straight at his heart.

A crooked grin tugs at his mouth, twisting into a wicked smirk, showing me just how much he is enjoying the foreplay.

‘Hands up,’ I demand.

He does as I say.

Curling my fingers around the string, I tug, shifting at the last moment, sending the arrow soaring toward him. It punctures straight through one arm, piercing into the next and locking him in place against the wall. Ribbons of crimson run down his smooth skin. He barely even flinches as his gaze sears through me.

‘Careful,’ he murmurs, voice like velvet. ‘This kind of fun might start something you’re not able to handle.’

Strolling unhurriedly toward him, I lean in, ghosting my lips over his ear.

‘Who says I can’t handle it?’

Reaching above him, I tug the arrow out of his arms, his blood spilling down his skin in a gush. I toss it to the side and stride back toward the desk, pulling out a chair and dragging it to the centre of the room. I drop myself onto it and lean back, watching how beautiful he looks dripping in blood, those midnight eyes looking perfect with his sharp cheekbones and striking tattoos.

‘Crawl to me,’ I say.

Astonishment covers his face as he blinks at me. My grin widens.

‘Me?’ he asks, pointing at himself, as if there is someone else here.

‘Yes,’ I say, lifting my chin, enjoying his shock. It’s not very often Theo is rendered speechless, and I’m silently thrilled I achieved that. ‘Crawl to me.’

‘Yes ma’am,’ he mutters, dropping to his knees, keeping his gaze locked on mine. His lip curls into a thin smirk as he begins to crawl toward me, slow and controlled, like a predator savouring the space between us, leaving a trail of blood behind him. His fangs descend, making him look even more like a monster.

I don’t move. I sit back in the chair, legs crossed, spine straight, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he approaches me, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s nothing human in them at this moment. Just pure hunger, lust and adoration. There is something almost reverent in the way he moves, as if crawling is worship and I’m the altar.

His lips curve into a crooked smirk.

‘You look so composed,’ he murmurs, voice rough and deep. ‘For someone about to be devoured.’

I tilt my head, smiling, loving seeing this side of him.

‘And you look so cocky,’ I murmur. ‘For someone on their knees for me.’

His smirk deepens into something sinful. Once he reaches me, he doesn’t rise, just kneels there, head tilted slightly, eyes glittering with something sharp and beautiful that only a creature of the night can possess.

‘I don’t mind being on my knees for you, Cupcake,’ he drawls. ‘What will I get in return?’

He’s close now. Close enough that I can feel the tension radiating off him, unnatural and charged, like I’m standing too close to an electric fence. His fingers press into the floor, tense and coiled, but he waits, watching me like I’m both a prize and a punishment.

‘You think you’re owed something?’ I ask, arching a brow.

He smiles.