Page 131 of Princes of Carnage

“Caught you, siren,” he murmurs roughly, and he doesn’t even sound that out of breath. He’s in his element, predator that he is. “Now it’s time for me to claim my prize.”

With one hand, he rips my shirt open down the middle, leaving it hanging in tatters. I gasp as cool air hits my skin, my nipples peaking even more beneath the soaked fabric of my bra, and Killian slides one hand up to grip my throat as the other stays looped tightly around my waist.

A flash of white catches my eye in the darkness from a short distance away, and I turn my head a little, blinking away the water droplets that cling to my eyelashes.

Nico and Atlas have caught up to us. They’re still wearing their masks, standing by a grave and watching as Killian holds me in place like a doll. I can’t make out much about them in the dark, but when my gaze meets theirs, a current of awareness arcs between us through the air.

As if to make it easier for them to watch all of this, Killian turns us so we’re facing his friends, giving them a perfect view of my bra and my tattooed skin through the ruins of my shirt. I struggle a little, moving like I’m going to cover myself up, but Killian releases his grip on my throat and wrenches my wrists back with one large hand.

“No,” he grunts. “No hiding. Not tonight.”

I whimper softly, my thighs squeezing together as my pussy clenches.

“What do you want them to see?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the relentless patter of the rain.

Killian drops his head, his lips brushing my ear. His breath is warm against my chilled skin as he murmurs a single word.

“Everything.”

The hand that’s not holding my wrists roams over my chest, groping me through my bra, squeezing the mounds of my breasts until I gasp at the pain and pleasure of it.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he touches me, but I can’t help but arch into it, wanting more. Needing more.

“Show them, siren,” Killian murmurs hoarsely. “Show them how perfect and filthy you are.”

In one smooth move, he yanks my bra up, sending my tits spilling out of it. Nico and Atlas make low noises in response, and although they don’t step closer, I can read the tension in their bodies even in the darkness as they watch what Killian is doing to me.

The massive man behind me kneads my breasts in one hand, squeezing them even harder until I yelp in pain. He tweaks my nipples, which are stiff and aching from the cold of the rain and the sheer arousal coursing through me right now.

His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh, then pinch and twist one nipple sharply enough that I cry out. The sound echoes around us, and Killian chuckles lowly. His voice is pure gravel when he speaks again.

“I think they’re starting to understand why I watched you for so long. Because you’re fucking beautiful. In everything you do. Every breath. Every expression. Every moan. Every whimper.”

The words are almost tender, but his tone definitely isn’t. The reminder of him stalking me turns me on at the same time it pisses me off. I have no way of knowing what all Killian has seen, and it makes me angry and impossibly aroused—and then even angrier because I don’t want it to make me feel that way. Don’t want my body to burn with need as I think of all the private, intimate things he might have watched me do.

I struggle harder against him, this time managing to jab my foot down against his ankle.

He lets out a low curse, and his grip loosens enough for me to wrestle myself out of his arms.

I take off running again, the tatters of my shirt hanging from my body and my breasts bouncing painfully as I sprint. I ignore the sharp zaps of pain that almost feel like pleasure as they shoot down my spine, focusing on not tripping, trying to put more distance between us.

But Killian is too close on my heels. I get only a few hundred feet away before he’s on me again.

He barrels into me and grabs me around the waist, lifting me off my feet. I gasp in surprise, struggling wildly as the bare skin of his forearm slips against mine.

“Get off me,” I snarl. “Fucking let me go.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and menacing, full of a heated promise. “Never, siren.”

I move like I’m going to hit him, but before I can, he grabs my arm, his fingers wrapping around my wrist to twist it behind my back. Using the weight of his body, he forces me to take several steps forward until we’re right up against a gravestone.

Using the grip on my wrist and a hand at my back, he shoves me down until I’m bending over it, pinning my lower body in place with his hips to keep me from running again.

I’m breathing hard, my teal hair plastered to my head and my face by the rain. Behind me, Killian wrenches my pants down, leaving them tangled around my ankles. My breath catches as he drags my panties down too, the wet fabric rough against my skin. He shoves my feet apart as wide as possible—which isn’t all that wide, with my pants binding me like this.

If I want to run now, I’m going to have a hell of a time of it.

One of his callused hands slides between my legs to slip through my folds, and I squirm at the feel of it, trying to pull away. But there’s nowhere for me to go now.

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