Page 48 of Now You're Mine

Grabbing his hand, I use my fingernails to try and pry his hand off me. “You’re hurting me,” I spit, anger clenching like a fist in my chest. “Let go.”

His eyes darken for a split second before he pushes my face, and laughs. The way he does that—shoves me away like I’m his plaything—pisses me off. Clenching my jaw, I glare at him. I’m not the same girl I was last time we did this fucking dance. I’m stronger now, more confident, and fuck if I’m going to let him do this shit to meagain.

“You’re going to walk out of this house right-fucking-now,” I say calmly, anger simmering just below the surface of my polite tone.

He laughs again, slightly manic. “And why would I do that? I’m with my sweet baby now. It’s everything I’ve wanted for the last year.”

He moves to stand in front of me, looking down at me like a love-sick puppy. To see him this way, you’d never think he was dangerous. He might even look endearing, his handsome face switching quickly from playful and amused to yearning and tormented.

Yeah, a year ago, I feel for that. But now I know better. Now I know the devil behind that mask.

I guess he’s a lot like his brother that way.

Roman and James share so many qualities, it’s crazy I didn’t see them sooner. They both have that darkness inside them, that controlling, obsessive personality that’s both compelling and terrifying all at once.

But James’s love is a poison. It’s malformed and cruel.

It’s selfish.

Even now, he doesn’t acknowledge that I’m trembling. He doesn’t see it, because he doesn’t care. All he can see is what hewantsto see, what fits the narrative he’s created in his mind.

I swallow and steel myself for what I’m about to say because I know he’ll reject it initially. But I have to try and get through to him. “I’m not your baby, James. I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

His features harden, and there’s a flash of anger in his eyes that makes my pulse race. But I hold my ground because I have to.

He squints and leans forward threateningly. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean,you’ve moved on?”

I lift my chin, and I swear I can hear Bree in my mind.Be brave, Lux. Hold your ground.“Exactly what I just said. I’ve been with someone, James. I’ve moved on.”

I’m hoping that confession will make me look “soiled” in his eyes,used. I’m hoping it’ll disgust him.

“Who?” he says low and threatening. “Who was it?”

I consider telling him it was Roman, just to twist the knife, but I can’t get the words out. I’m afraid that might be pushing himtoofar. I have to toe the line between reasoning with him, and triggering his violent side.

“It doesn’t matter who,” I say.

He nods slowly, his gaze locked on me like he’s trying to decide if I’m lying. “Is that why you never wrote me back?”

Um.“I never received a letter from you.”

He steps back, shakes his head, and starts to pace. Then he pauses and turns to face me. “Nah, I don’t believe that. I gave those letters to my brother, and he swore he’d give them to you.”

“He must have kept them, because I never saw a letter,” I say honestly.

He rushes up to me and shoves a finger into my chest. “See, this is our fucking problem, Lux. Thisrighthere. You can’t just be fucking honest with me.”

My heart is pounding like a jackhammer against my ribs, but I keep my chin high. “You want honesty, James?” I say, leaning into his finger. The blunt tip digs into my skin and muscle, but I force myself to ignore the twinge of pain. “Even if I did receive a letter from you, I wouldn’t have read it. I wouldn’t have responded to it, because you and I arenothing.” I annunciate that last word slowly so there’s no misunderstanding me. “There willneverbe anything between useveragain.”

His face goes blank, and it doesn’t look like my words land at all. Then abruptly, his hand darts up, and he grabs my throat, squeezing until my airway is completely cut off. Panic sets in, and I open my mouth to pull air into my lungs, but I can’t. I claw at his fingers with one hand, while blindly feeling around with the other hand for something I can use as a weapon. My fingers brush against a standing lamp. I try to grab it, but I just manage to push it down, and it falls to the ground with a loudcrash.

Oh, my God.My lungs arescreamingfor air, and in seconds, I know I’m going to pass out. I struggle to hold on to consciousness, but it’s already starting to slip.

His fingers are still curled around my throat when he reaches down and pulls out a gun from his waistband. Then I feel it,something pressed against my cheek, the round metal mouth of a gun.

Leaning in, he whispers harshly in my ear, “Death is like a baptism. The blood will cleanse you, and make your soul pure. Then we can be together again…”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

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