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All this is an act. Those dark eyes aren’t capable of kindness. It’s either a show or some fucked-up reverse psychology.
“You think anyone can save you from me?” He laughs, the sound hollow and deranged. “You’re mine to screw and destroy, my ugly monster. It’s time to get used to that.”
I open my mouth to protest.
He shoves his finger against my lips, cutting off my words. “Shut it. You don’t get to talk. You only get to listen.”
The pulse in his forefinger beats against my mouth—constant, calm, and…cold.
Is it even possible for a pulse to feel this cold?
My lips are dry and sore, so I don’t attempt to bite him like my brain is telling me to. If I clamp my teeth around his finger, he might seek revenge in a more brutal way.
My body is already too weak, bursts of pain starting at my nape and shoulders and extending to my limbs. I just need him gone until I’m strong enough to face him.
What’s the best way to push him away without force?
Think. Think.
I meet his somber eyes and the harsh gleam shining in that green. It’s such a shame an asshole like him has such a beautiful color.
I could forget my dignity and go with the pleading route, but I doubt it’d work on him.
There’s so much unhinged hatred radiating off him.
So much…destruction.
I choose an entirely different route.
Darting my tongue out, I feel around his finger, licking the skin slowly.
Surprise registers in his eyes before his lids quickly lower halfway.
Yes. He can hide it all he likes, but I surprised him. People are easier to handle when they’re taken off guard.
Especially demons like Asher. He seems to be the type who has everything under control, and I bet on that when I started licking his skin.
I meet his punishing gaze with my defiant one.
You won’t get to me. Not now. Not ever.
His upper lip twitches as if he heard my internal challenge and accepted it.
He thrusts his finger inside my mouth, coiling it against my tongue. I gasp, but the sound is muted by his forceful shove.
His shoulders broaden even more and he appears like the Grim Reaper out to harvest lives—starting with mine.
My teeth graze his skin, and I pause, contemplating my next move.
“Bite and I’ll hurt you back,” he says, as if hearing my thoughts.
I glare up at him but continue.
The harder he glides his finger against my tongue, the faster I lick, lapping against his single digit.
The more diligent I become, the more furious his eyes turn. No idea if it’s rage or lust or both.
A flash of heat coils down my spine the more I suck him, but I don’t stop. If I keep that look in his eyes, he’ll leave me in peace.
