Page 61 of The Wages of Sin

Worse than any of that, though, was my reaction to the sight of his bare skin.

Even knowing who he was—what he was—I still couldn’t stop the instant rush of heat that washed through me or the pull I felt toward him.

Over the last few weeks, I’d let myself become blinded by those lustful impulses. The pleasure of his touch had led me straight into denial. Now, I was afraid my desire for him would land me in the morgue.

“Get out of my way, Dorian.”

He cocked his chin to the side just a touch. “Or…what?”

I tightened my grip on the handle of the knife. “Or I’ll make you move.”

“No, you won’t,” he said with absolute certainty.

I wasn’t expecting his quick dismissal to hurt my pride so much. I lifted my chin along with the tip of the blade. “Don’t be so sure. I’ve had to fight for my life before. I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“Oh, I know you’re tough as nails,” he said. “But there’s a big difference between defending yourself in the heat of the moment and walking up to an unarmed man and stabbing him in cold blood.”

“You would know.”

“You’re right. I do,” he said without blinking. “One is the primal instinct to survive; the other is a conscious choice to commit unprovoked violence. Most people aren’t capable of that second one. Someone with your goodness and compassion most definitely isn’t.”

“But you are,” I shot back.

He nodded. “I am.”

I backed up a step. “You almost sound proud of that.”

“The men I’ve put in the ground weren’t good people, Kiera,” he said. “They weren’t innocents. Most were downright evil—rapists and murderers that had body counts of their own.”

“You think that makes killing them all right?”

“I think it keeps it from being wrong.”

My chest grew tight at that kind of dark gray morality. “You weren’t talking about mercy killings out there, Dorian. You said you killed Carlo with strychnine. That’s a horrible way to die. No one deserves that.”

“He did,” Dorian answered without hesitation. “He deserved every second of agony that shot through his shaking body. Do you know why?”

I shook my head, hoping he wouldn’t elaborate. I was afraid to know how he’d managed to rationalize murder…afraid I might end up agreeing with him.

But Dorian kept going.

“Because he hurt you,” he continued. “He attacked you. He hit you. He made you afraid to step outside your door…and for that, he deserved everything I did to him.”

As much as I hated to admit it, there was something brutally hot about hearing the passion in Dorian’s voice. No one had ever been so protective of me.

No one had ever cared enough.

That had become painfully clear in the days after my sister’s murder.

From what I read in the news and heard in the television interviews, everyone had been quick to buy Hollis’ story and believe the worst of me…even my own parents.

They begged me to turn myself in, to face justice for the terrible things they believed I’d done. My own mother said she never wanted to see me again.

It seemed a cruel irony that a professional killer was the only person who believed in my innate goodness.

At least for now.

“Okay, but what happens the day you decide that I’m the one who deserves to die?” I asked. “Are you going to inject me with rat poison too?”

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