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“I will never be yours.” My voice shakes.
“But you’re still tempted.”
I huff at his cockiness. “I have never met someone so keen to die.”
“I prefer it to be at your hands.”
My heart pounds in my chest. The beats of silence stomp over every sound, vacuuming it.
“Why?” I whisper, sensing something monumental is happening between us.
“It would be appropriate, don’t you think? Going out at the hands of an innocent is like life tipping the balance straight again.”
Cold emptiness masks his cockiness. At his answer, my heart races, stutters, and flatlines. I have to leave, and soon, before he affects me even harder.
“Where are you?”
“Worried about me?”
“The sooner you get yourself killed, the sooner I can live as I want.” I infuse as much indifference as I can, but my chest caves my heart in to the point of pain.
“Ah, the illusive freedom you’re after.”
“Freedom is not illusive, it’s a birthright.”
“Is it, now? And here I thought it was a constitutional right. There is no such thing as freedom in nature, just the cycle of life.”
“That’s a cynical thought.”
“Realist.”
I smile despite not wanting to. Ugh, he twists my insides into an intricate web.
“Father didn’t punish me . . .”
“But?”
“Why do you think there is a but?”
“Chiara.” My name rolls off his tongue with the promise of sin, and my body hums, eager to be dragged into his hell of pleasure.
“He used another method this time, so practically none of us wins.”
“When I get back, I am taking whatever I deem worthy anyway.”
“Nothing of me is yours to take.” I huff.
“You sure about that?” His damned alluring cockiness slips through, making me squirm.
“Where are you?” I repeat.
“Conquering.”
Images of death and terror spread through my mind, obliterating the spell he had me under. How can I allow myself even for a second to forget this man is a monster?
“How many?”
“I don’t count,cara. And stop stalling. What method did he use?”
