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He raped me.
He took a part of me that I could never get back.
Even though I knew Vassago had finished the job, I would look for Duncan in the dark for years to come. That realization made me want to wrap the demon around me and carry him everywhere I went.
That was what Vassago had been offering me, though, wasn’t it?
“My gift?” His wary tone took me out of my busy brain.
“Yes. I trust you.” My voice sounded weak, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been more grateful or trusted someone more.
He opened the jar of blood—it was definitely blood by the metallic smell—and dipped his middle finger into the inky fluid. “Pull your shirt down.”
His eyes didn’t leave mine as I curled my fingers around the neckline and didn’t stop until the swells of my breasts were exposed.
His lips parted and his gaze dropped to his canvas. Something squirmed in my belly at the determined look he held with every swipe of his fingers over my bare skin.
Slowly, he painted the first long line down the center of my chest. The next line started at one breast and crossed to the other. He refreshed his morbid paint and drew the boxy beetle I’d seen time and time again. When he finished, he took one step back to survey his work.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“That you’re mine.”
My mouth snapped shut.
“This symbol is my true name. My sigil on the skin of my most beloved and cherished gift.”
I blushed, but his only reaction came from the way his eyelids lowered and he wet his lips. He looked like the quintessential bad boy in every classic film.
“It’s only fair that I mark you as mine. Don’t you think?”
Before he could answer, I plunged two fingers into the jar of Duncan’s blood. Vassago stood as still as a statue while I scrawled my name across his muscular chest. Holding the neck of my shirt firm so his masterpiece was still on full display, I wet my fingers every other letter. The trail of blood dripped down to my elbow and stained the oversized sleeve. By the time I got to the lastein my name, my hand and wrist were slick and sticky.
I rested my hand on his stomach while I waited for his reaction. He looked down at my markings, then at my fingers.
“Thank you.” He sounded more than grateful. He sounded whole.
I cupped his cheek with my clean hand. His eyes met mine, and an inferno ignited in my core. I had already pushed the boundaries of what I was capable of tonight, but I pulled his mouth to mine.
Sparks.
Butterflies.
A thousand yellow daisies exploded inside of me.
His soft lips moved over mine, then his tongue teased at the seam. When I opened for him, he didn’t just deepen our kiss. It was as if my soul were exploring a home it had been missing. The sweet taste of him fueled the fire already burning inside of me.
I was still sore from Duncan’s attack. The bruises on my wrists were only hours old. But if I didn’t get closer to Vassago, I might die from overheating.
My slippery fingers fumbled at the button of his jeans.
“You need time,” he said with a hand on top of mine as I got them loose. He pulled away and gently gripped my chin. “It’s too soon after?—”
“You said you would give me anything I wanted.” I fixed him with a determined gaze and pulled at the waistband of his boxers.
I needed to extend the feeling of control that was pushing me through the pain and devastation, which would surely return in the morning.
In that moment, I needed to have a say about who was inside of me.
