Page 66 of Thorns of Malice

This is the Dax I know. The Dax with hate in his eyes, the one in control, the one who can make me crumble into pieces, doing whatever it is he wants, and enjoying every minute of it.

He's the Dax I've craved for ten years.

He's the Dax I don't know how to resist.

12

Dax

Rage fills me.

Ivy's lips quiver. Her voice wavers as she cries out, "Dax, what are you doing?"

I press closer to her. "That's not what you want. You know that's not what you want."

"You don't know shit about what I want!" she spouts, her eyes glistening. She blinks harder.

"You don't want them. This isn't you," I claim.

Anger erupts, and she fumes, "You don't know who I am."

I shake my head. "I do know who you are."

"You don't! You made me into everything I am, and you have no clue who that is anymore."

I stare at her for a minute.

She glares harder. "You don't get to judge me. Now, let me go, Dax."

I press my lips against hers, sliding my hand into her hair and kissing her.

She fights me, trying to pull away.

I press closer.

Within seconds, she kisses me back, and I quietly lock the door next to her hip, not willing to risk anyone interrupting us.

Lust boils my blood, rushing through my veins. It's a high I've not felt in years until tonight. Everything I've craved and remembered is still there. Only everything between us is more potent now. And there's more on the line than ever before.

Back then, I didn't need to worry about losing Ivy. It was my game. I was in control. I told myself she was merely a pawn I could let go at any time.

I've never been so wrong in my life.

So everything that happens now counts. I'm fully aware of what the prize is this time.

It's her.

Forever.

But the tables have turned, and she holds the wild cards.

All of them.

Unlike the past, my moves are uncalculated, and I have no room for error. If I've learned anything over the last ten years, it's that it only takes one fucked-up moment to destroy everything—to create a situation that'll haunt you for the rest of your life, over and over, until you're broken into pieces you can never mend.

She thrashes her tongue around mine. Her hands grip my hair.

We kiss for a while, and I pin her wrists above her head against the wall, lowering my mouth to the curve of her neck, muttering, "This is what you want—what you need."

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