Page 18 of Their Dark Rose

“F-Falk?” My bravery falters.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they’re not after my virginity—they’re after me, period.

I shiver as his bottle-green eyes skim over my body. He trails his gaze up my feet, my curvy hips, the low neck of my T-shirt.

He edges toward me.

His woodsy cologne clouds my senses, making me dizzy.

Another dangerous foot closer.

Under his watchful gaze, my bravery dissolves. I’m afraid he might touch me.

Afraid the others will join.

Afraid of the pain they’ll bring with them.

They haven’t once touched me inappropriately in the past. Haven’t hurt me, either.

When I was a kid.

I’m no longer one.

This is their moment to finally treat me as an adult and avenge their parents by punishing me.

I love them. For caring for me. For nurturing me. For the friends they were to me before. My evolving feelings for them are there as well, but apparently, they’re one-sided.

There’s no denying the intimidating aura surrounding them or the brutality brewing in them.

I’ve overheard them threatening city clerks, suppliers, and even politicians enough times to know they’re not fucking around. Finn confessed, in my presence, about killing someone for trying to fuck with him.

I was blind to confuse sex with violence.

So blind.

The sins of the father…

“About what you said earlier.”

Oh, God, the handheld showerhead. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m for sure going to die.

Falk’s fingers curl lightly around my neck. Lightly and possessively, daring me to move.

I don’t test him. Despite the lust rolling off him, I fear the consequences of defying him. And it has nothing to do with him leaving because I’ll talk back.

It has everything to do with him staying and making good on his underlying threat.

My insides tell me they won’t ever hit me. My scrambling nerves scream otherwise.

“What did I say?” I gulp.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Finn pushing off the window. He stalks forward on his boots, looking angelic to anyone who doesn’t know him.

I do, though. Finn Abbot is trouble. One look into the maniacal glitter in his eyes, and I see his intentions are all wrong.

“You reminded us you were turning eighteen.”

Shit. That.

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