Page 44 of Shadows in Bloom

He lifts his hands, and at the same time, I point the tip of his own knife to his throat.

He stills for a second, then drops his hands to my knees, gently smoothing them up my thighs. “Do it,” he says.

My hand shakes, the weight of the knife heavy in my palm. I push the blade against his flesh, a tiny bead of blood appears. “I’ll do it,” I warn.

He shifts slightly, squeezes my thighs. “Do it,” he repeats. “It’s the only way you’ll ever be free of me, Justice.”

God, why do I hate the sound of my name on his lips? Why do I want to stab him, hurt him, make him bleed as I scream at him to call me his firebird, his love?

I’m as fucking insane as he is.

“Say it!” I demand. “Say it, then I’ll kill you.” I’m a weak, pathetic liar, and he knows it.

“Say what,” he asks, his voice so soft and gentle no one would ever know this man’s only wish is to torture me and watch me burn.

“You fucking know what!” I scream, and the blade cuts into his neck. The bastard doesn’t even flinch. Beneath me, his erection strains against my ass. It takes all my strength not to grind against him.

“Do it, my love.” He squeezes my thighs again.

My chest heaves, and I suck in a breath as I drag the knife along the side of his throat.

He lets out a long exhale, and his eyelids flutter.

“Again,” he says. “Kill me, my little firebird. I know you want to.”

Blood oozes from the wound in his neck, but it’s clearly not deep enough to kill. I stare at the trickling blood, then shift my eyes back to his.

Pupils blown wide, he licks his lips, eyes never leaving mine.

Do it! A voice in the back of my mind shouts. It reminds me of the past. My family burning alive. My friends… all dead. My boyfriends, dead too. Everyone I’ve ever loved, known, or confided in… Salem killed them all.

He’s insane. I remind myself.

He could easily overpower me. Take the knife from my hand and slice me open.

But all he does is stare at me with those dark eyes that send me spiralling into a long-forgotten memory of a boy tracing his fingertips across the scars on my forearm. A boy shielding me from bullies, from my brother, my parents. A boy teaching me to read, sharing his lunch with me when I didn’t have my own.

“You need more of these,” he said as he trailed his fingers over my scars.

Knife in my hand, I once again press the tip of the blade to Salem’s throat, and this time, I slice his flesh open.

He flinches.

Blood spills from the wound.

He gasps.

The knife falls to the floor with a thud.

I’m yanked back and thrown across the room. My head hits the leg of the table, and as I scramble to my hands and knees, a heavy boot slams into my gut, sending me to the floor. I curl up in a ball, covering my head with my hands.

Nothing stops the brutal onslaught.

Diablo grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me along the hardwood floor and back to the bedroom. He hefts me up and dumps me on the bed before roughly yanking on my arms to cuff me to the iron bedhead.

All the while I remain silent, nothing more than pained sobs leave my lips.

Diablo draws his knife and without warning or hesitation, he slices it across my abdomen. I let out a blood curdling scream seconds before he clamps his hand over my mouth. “If he dies, I promise you the torture Salem inflicted on you will be nothing compared to what I will do. You may be his firebird, but when I am done with you, you will never rise again.”

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