Page 56 of Muerte

Did that mean she loved him too—Alexander’s father? Had she happily created a family and raised their kids?

I couldn’t imagine him sharing this entirely out of kindness. There had to be more to it, something deeper and perhaps darker.

“Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked, keeping my voice light. “What do you want from me?”

“Everything.” His gaze lowered, and even with the scar marring his face, his features were the epitome of masculine perfection. “I’m going to take everything from you because I have that right. Because I’m selfish and more than a little obsessed and want everything you have to offer.” He spread my legs wider and ran the edge of the blade along my inner thigh. “Body, mind, and soul. I want it all, deliciae. And I will have it.”

The blade pressed into my skin—not enough to cut, but the sting was there. “Will you give me it willingly, or do I need to take it from you?” he questioned with a deceptive softness.

I swallowed, my heart beating so soundly I could barely hear myself think. I wasn’t sure what he was asking for. Submission? Me? Or was it more than that? Maybe this was another gesture of possession.

I was afraid.

I feared him and those eyes that seemed to see right through me, making everything inside my head a chaotic mess. Feared what he planned to do with me with the knife pressing against my skin. Most of all, I feared myself for being the special kind of screwed up that wanted to find out.

I could fight him, tell him exactly what I thought of his Isle and its inhabitants and their sadistic, bloody rituals while pathetically trying to get away. But again, I knew to pick my battles, and this wasn’t one I would come out on top in. Not yet.

“Just this once,” I replied with a shaky exhale, refusing to fully give him all he wanted.

“I prefer always, but I’ll compromise tonight.” He leaned down and captured my mouth in a dominating kiss. His tongue teased the seam of my lips, and the second I granted him access he rendered me breathless, one hand slipping between our bodies.

His touch was teasing at first, alternating between barely there and just enough to make me hot and wet. I moaned softly when two of his fingers finally slid inside me, my lingering soreness a dull ache.

He broke the kiss and pulled away, watching closely as his fingers moved in and out of me. He pushed deeper, a sound of approval slipping from him when I arched into his hand with another moan. When he abruptly pulled away, I was left confused and wanting more.

“Be patient, deliciae. I’ll give us both what we need.”

Arousal slipped from between my legs, the light from the fire illuminating everything. My face heated as he looked down at me, taking it all in as if committing this vision to memory.

“Fucking beautiful.” He pressed the serrated edge of the knife against my left thigh, carefully rotating it as he glided along my skin. Still not enough to cut, but I could feel the warmth of the metal and the prickling of its blade. He continued across my navel, slowly moving the blade higher, watching me intently.

My breath caught as he circled my left breast so tightly the knife’s tip rubbed against it. I bit back a moan when he got to the right and did the same thing. He brought the blade higher, teasing my throat as his other hand went back between my legs.

With light teasing motions, he began to circle my clit with his fingers. I moaned softly, squeezing my legs closed when he applied more pressure to my throat.

He slipped two fingers inside me again and curled them upward, hitting a spot of pleasure I’d never been able to find, pressing the pad of his thumb to my clit at the same time. He began to rock in and out with a skilled deftness, keeping the blade against my flesh.

“Do you like that?”

The knife pressed down harder, nicking my flesh hard enough I felt a trickle of blood.

“Yes, yes,” I repeated on a breathy moan, feeling my eyes begin to water.

“I could so easily slice open your pretty little throat.” He rocked harder inside me when I tried to respond. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

“N-no,” I breathed, or at least I thought I did, grabbing hold of his shoulder to anchor myself.

“You’d look so beautiful, bleeding out while I fuck you. Like art.”

He was so goddamn sick.

But at that moment, I was no better.

I closed my eyes, the pleasure in my core becoming too much. He abruptly pulled his fingers out of me. I opened my eyes and watched as he wiped them on the blade of the knife, coating the metal in my arousal.

“Clean it off,” he commanded, bringing the blade to my lips. I obeyed, careful not to slice open my tongue. I was sweeter than I would’ve thought.

“Good girl,” he praised before sucking his fingers into his mouth, holding my stare when he removed them. “Never tasted anything better. I need more.” He began to toy with me again, making his way back down my body with the blade.

---