Page 40 of Princes of Carnage

“What makes you think I’d ever want to fuck you?” I ask, hating the rasp in my voice.

His tongue slides along the bottom of his teeth. “The way you kissed me. The way your body melted against mine for just a second before you caught yourself. The way your nipples are hard right now. You like feeling me between your thighs like this, don’t you?”

The knife trembles against his skin as I press my lips together, anger battling with arousal. I’m pissed that he’s noticed this strange, almost electric connection between us too, and I’m even more furious at him for calling it out.

“I hate you,” I hiss.

Heat burns in his eyes. “I hate you too. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is what you do to me.”

He lifts his hips suddenly, and my mouth falls open on a soft gasp. He’s hard, rock hard, his cock a thick line in his pants that I can feel through his clothes and the thin cover on his bed.

It presses right against my clit, taking my breath away, making heat surge through me. The sudden burst of sensation steals my focus, my body shuddering as I try to tamp down the sharp flare of arousal—

And that’s all the opening Nico needs.

Quick as lightning, he grabs my arm, yanking it and the knife away from his throat.

14

QUINN

Fuck.

Nico’s fingers are like an iron band around my wrist as he twists my arm to one side, giving himself more room to move as he tries to take the knife from me.

His sudden move caught me by surprise, but I’ve spent years training to fight, and those instincts kick in immediately. When he tries to snatch the knife, I grip it tighter, rolling my body off of his to give me more leverage to hold on. Nico is larger than me by a good bit, but I make up for my lack of size with skill and agility.

He tries to cover my hand with his own as if he can overpower me that way, but I jerk my arm backward sharply. Nico curses under his breath and yanks his hand back as he almost finds himself holding the wrong end of the knife, the blade just barely missing his palm. He kicks the covers off and throws his weight against me, shoving me against the mattress and trying to pin me down as we grapple for control of the weapon.

I can feel the strength in him as we tussle, the lean, hard muscles that filled out that fucking suit so well. He’s no slouch as a fighter either, and every time I get the upper hand and get back on top, he manages to turn the tables. We’re both breathing hard, straining against each other, trying to get and keep control of the knife and avoid being stabbed.

“It’s our wedding night, mia cara,” Nico growls as he tries to get me in a headlock from behind. “Don’t make me kill you.”

In answer, I snap my head back, catching a glancing blow to his face with the crown of my skull. It’s not enough to break his nose, unfortunately, but as he pulls back to avoid the blow, it gives me an opening to flip our positions.

Heat pours off of him as we roll over on the bed, burning into me from how close we are. His cock brushes against me as he tries to pin me with his weight again, and I realize with a start that he’s still hard, still clearly turned on. My heart pounds in my chest, all adrenaline and determination, but there’s something else flowing through my veins as well.

Something I don’t want to admit to.

“Christ, you’re fucking stubborn,” he grunts. He wrenches my arm up like he wants to break it.

“Then get the fuck off me,” I spit, jamming my knee up and toward his balls. But he must have learned from the last time because he rolls out of the way before I can make contact.

With more space opened up between us, I firm up my grip on the knife and hold it in front of me defensively.

Nico’s eyes narrow. He sizes me up for a second before moving again, and I slash out with the knife as he tries to get past my guard. The blade makes contact, cutting in a shallow line across his bare abs, but Nico doesn’t even slow down.

He keeps moving, knocking the knife aside and barreling into me like a freight train as red blood smears across his stomach. He bears down with his full weight, bringing me down to the mattress again, then brings one knee up and presses it against my stomach. The force of it nearly drives the wind out of me, and he holds me down like that as he goes for the knife again.

I grunt softly, trying to swing the blade at him once more, but before I can, he grips my wrist with both hands and twists. Pain shoots up my arm, my muscles weakening as he applies pressure in just the right spot to break my hold.

My fingers fall away from the knife’s handle, and Nico bares his teeth as he grasps it. In the same movement, he raises it high, his free hand wrapping around my neck to hold me in place.

Then he brings the knife downward toward my head in a long, smooth arc.

Time seems to slow down as I watch the blade descend, the dim light coming in through the windows reflecting off the silvery metal. My entire body tenses, braced for the killing blow, for the sharp, agonizing pain of being stabbed through the skull, knowing that it’s too late to stop it—

And then the knife buries itself in the mattress less than an inch away from my head.

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