Page 61 of Corrupted Heart

I’ll pay.

Fucking right you will.

And suddenly, it clicks, even as a horrifyingly exciting shiver ripples heatedly between my thighs.

I’ll pay for what I’ve done. But it won’t be with money, or even my life.

It’ll be with something else.

When I drag my wide eyes from the blade teasing my nipple through my hoodie, up to those soulless, chilling neon X’s of his eyes, I know I’m right.

“If…” I breathe. “If we do this…”

I can feel him smirk behind the mask.

“Yes, princess?” he growls quietly.

I don’t have to finish the question, because I already know I’m right. This is the payment. I’m the payment for what I did. I fucked up. I destroyed what was his. And now, he’ll destroy me. It should feel barbaric and horrifying. I should hate this. Or at the very least, fear it.

I shouldn’t be so excited.

I shouldn’t be so wet.

My teeth drag over my bottom lip as I peer into his face.

“Why are you still wearing a mask?” I breathe.

I mean, we both know who the other is now. This isn’t an anonymous “meetup” via the Venom site anymore.

Kratos tilts his head to the side, letting that leering neon smile and the real one faintly glowing behind it pierce my soul.

“Because you wanted me to,” he murmurs.

The knife’s tip slides over my nipple again. I gasp sharply, feeling the pressure of it through my hoodie as he starts to walk around behind me. The knife drags across my chest, teasing across one breast and then the other, the tip passing directly across that nipple too.

My breath stutters as I feel him stop right behind me, the sheer size and mass of him looming over me from behind as he lowers his mouth to my ear.

“Because, princess…” he purrs softly. “You asked for it.”

My pulse spikes as the blade drags up my breast, the lethal tip dancing a fraction of an inch from my skin as it slides up my jugular.

“Now…” Kratos growls into my ear.

The heat, the scent, and the sheer power of him vibrates against my pebbled skin.

“Run.”

12

BIANCA

Ever since he grabbed me behind the theater, the adrenaline has been coursing through my veins like diesel. And the second he says it, it’s like lighting it on fire, like another Molotov cocktail.

Blood roars in my ears as I explode away from him, flinging myself into the near-total darkness of the old church. My eyes have adjusted a little bit to the gloom, and I’m not completely blind, but it’s still a beyond harrowing rush as I bolt into the blackness.

“Runnnn, prinkípissa….”

The voice snarls and growls all around me. He’s everywhere and nowhere. It’s like I’m drowning in a pool of inky black paint, slowly choking me and turning my entire existence opaque.

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