Page 38 of Lock Up the Darkness

I stared at her, chewing on my lip ring.

In all that leather and lace, all that black, the whole smoky eyes thing she had going on, that dangerous energy I could feel right at the surface begging to be released, she was like a dark angel kicked out of the Heavens and sent here just to play with the likes of me.

“I would’ve let you go if you’d just asked nicely.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Nah, it’s more than that.”

“What the shit are you talking about?” she bit back, growing more pissed by the second.

Goddamn, yes! I could feel it from her, all that delicious rage and pain right on the verge of being fucking well exorcised.

In the only way it should be.

No. Holds. Barred.

“You don’t want nice, do you, firecracker?”

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I don’t need to know, I can feel it. It’s all fucking over you.” I stared into her deep blue eyes, the things big and expressive and fucking mesmerizing. “You’ve been itching for a fight, haven’t you? All that shit you’re holding at bay takes its toll. Believe me, I know. I’ve lived and breathed it. And I’m here to tell you, you can’t bottle it up for long. You’ve gotta let it out.” I shot out my hand and grasped hers around my blade. “So, what are you waiting for?”

I jerked her and the knife to me and held her penetrative gaze as I licked the blood clean off the flat of the blade, taking my sweet time and groaning as I savored the taste.

I just knew hers would be all the sweeter.

Disgust twisted her face.

At first.

And then I saw the truth breach the surface.

That flicker of savagery there in her eyes.

Hell, yeah.

It was one of my many talents.

Unleashing people’s violent desires.

I jerked her hand holding the knife to the side, destabilizing her. Then I rose up and slammed my knee into her wrist. It dislodged the weapon and I caught it in my palm, the thing slicing down the center and just getting me in the mood all the more. I snatched the handle, then tossed it into the stone wall, embedding it deep.

She swung her head there and I could see her trying to strategize, to determine if it would be worth trying to make it the twenty-foot distance of trying to reacquire the weapon, or whether I’d be able to tackle her and put her down before she did.

For most, that brief moment of indecision and strategizing wouldn’t have gained them an advantage. But for me, somebody who spent a shitload of time boxing and street fighting, who’d been an enforcer for my old man and embroiled in these violent, combative scenarios too many times to count, it was a gift. I had the experience and the well-honed reflexes to do a hell of a lot with it.

I went with it and lunged at her, driving her back into the wall and wiping my bloodied palm over her cheeks and mouth, making her taste me.

Her eyes were aflame even as she tried to deny how much she liked the depravity with a grimace and a hiss, her bucking her sexy little body against me.

She tried to spit it out, but I slid my thumb into her mouth, sliding the liquid along her tongue, making her taste the coppery tang.

“You’re taking it so good,” I taunted.

She dug her fingers into the wound in my bicep.

“That’s right. Hurt me. More.”

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