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ALEXANDER
I fuckAlize like she’s the key to my salvation and the reason for my damnation.
By the time we’re finished, she’s laying like a wet noodle on the floor of the stateroom, carpet burn staining her knees, my bruises on her neck, her eyes closed and a slight frown on her plump lips.
She’s exhausted, no doubt. I have the urge to pick her up, take her into the shower and help her regain her strength and composure, but I quash the feeling.
I can’t.
Not right now.
When she finally opens her eyes, she gives me a long, lingering stare. There’s no malice in them, no hatred. She’s sated, looking up at me like I’m the only thing that matters.
For some reason, that angers me. I wish she hated me.
It would make everything easier.
I stoop then catch the base of her throat and pull her toward me. I stare into her hazel eyes—they’re shaded by thick lashes, and there’s concern and desire andloveswirling in them.
I’m unsure what she’s seeing in mine, but it’s getting harder to hide how I really feel. The buzz of my orgasms are steadily fading, leaving me with the burden of emotions I’ve been steadily losing control of ever since I got that text from Graham.
After all, I entered that deal with Lev thinking that there was a chance thatLe Bourreauwasn’t Alize’s father, that it was all a coincidence. I had no skin in the game, really. It was only ever about if I could protect her in case her father was a fugitive of the Kingmaker Society and they wanted to use her to settle the score.
But now I knowLe Bourreauis also responsible for Mum’s death. I can’t shake the growing sense of dread sinking in my stomach. It changes everything I thought I knew.
I could be in love with the daughter of Mum’s killer.
Of course, I’m not entirely certain.
But the facts…the facts don’t make anything clearer.
The mysterious father who kept her locked up and away from the world. Alize talks about him like he’s a psychopath. They have the same last name, the same features. If he isn’t her father, there’s a high probability they are at least related, which makes her blood the same as his.
A choking sound snaps me out of my thoughts.
Alize is clawing at my hand, spluttering for air. I must have zoned out.
I crack a small smile when she tries to kick me in the nuts. I let go of her and she crumples back to the floor, her chest heaving.
“What thefuckis wrong with you?" Finally, there’s animosity in her tone.
You. You’re what’s wrong with me.
We’re wrong. Everything about this iswrong.
I shouldn’t feel this way about you.
“I can put bullets in the gun if you’d prefer that,” I say, watching as the shock from suffocation burns away, leaving just her hatred.
I hate that even now I feel tiny tendrils of lust curling around the base of my spine. I’m certain it’s the same for her, too. I should have known life would do something like this to us.Thatwas what I felt when I first saw her all those months ago, the inexplicable pull that drew us together.
The line between love and hate isn’t just thin.
It’s non-existent.
“I wouldpreferif you left me alone.” Her voice is hoarse.
I stalk toward her. “Is that what you really want?” My voice drops, and I cross my arms over my chest. “To leave you alone?”
