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Tick.
He’s not coming.
Tick.
Why would he? No one really wants you.
Tick.
You look pathetic. Just leave already.
A migraine starts to form at the back of my skull as the demons run rampant, spouting their hatred and telling me what they think of me without mincing their words.
I know I should leave. I do. But for some reason, I’m rooted in place.
The reality of the situation bursts through me without warning.
I don’t want to leave.
The lift dings and a rush of adrenaline spreads through my chest.
Simmer down. Desperate much?
Not sure the reprimand works, because when I stand, my feet barely keep me upright. My skin prickles when I feel his overwhelming presence, but then I see him, and my lips part.
Splashes of blood cover some of the tattoos on his chest and decorate his handsome features. His hair is tied in a messy bun, strands escaping and framing his face with a sheen of savagery.
I haven’t seen him this unhinged since the initiation. But even back then, he was more pushy and playful than…desolate.
His eyes are uncharacteristically empty, a blue so dark, I can’t see the Nikolai I’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks in them.
“Hey, sorry I let myself in—” The words are barely out when he smashes his body against mine.
The breath is knocked out of my lungs as we both go crashing down on the sofa. I lift my hand to try and get some balance, but he grabs my wrists and slams them above my head and shoves his knee between my legs, forcing them apart.
“Nikolai, what are you—”
“Shut. Your. Mouth.” He bites my lower lip with every word, eliciting a shudder from me.
My head spins and a shiver spreads across my skin and ends in my dick.
Am I supposed to feel this turned on by a kiss? It’s not even afullkiss.
Fuck.
I exist in his vicinity, then I’m on edge.
He touches me and I catch fire.
This is why I did everything in my power to put some distance between us. Get back control over my shameless reaction to him.
Nikolai doesn’t understand the concept of distance, though.
His teeth pull rougher than usual and tingles explode on the skin trapped between them.
But I like this type of pain. This pain isn’t mental or emotional. This pain means I’m right here, not swallowed up by black ink or pulled under by disgusting nausea.
“Who the fuck is she?” he growls against my mouth, his coarse words vibrating on my skin.
