Page 34 of Cruel Crown

Lack of technology was going to work in my favor. Had this place been with the latest gadgets, sneaking into her room would have been damn near impossible.

When I heard the click of the lock, I smiled. Slowly I twisted the knob, and before I walked in, I made sure no one was around.

The room was spacious, twice as big as mine. Lamps decorated the walls, giving a low glow to the whole space. In one of the corners was a fireplace, and the fire was burning brightly, a thick rug near it. The California king bed had a black duvet and a shit ton of black and gray pillows. A pelt blanket was in the middle.

The room had a touch of femininity and allure with a sense of darkness around it.

Slowly I closed the door, and on the opposite end, I saw another door which I bet led to the closet and bathroom.

I walked to the bed and sat on it slowly. Sooner or later, she had to come out, and I was going to be waiting for her. Upon touching the blanket, I noticed how soft it was and gave a dark chuckle when I saw it was wolf fur. It was ironic yet fitting.

While I waited, I saw her luggage, and if I knew the bitch—and I liked to think I knew her pretty well—she had to have some weapons in there.

Digging through her clothes, I found her passports, and I stashed those in my jacket. The gun I felt I left alone, and then I saw the long, thin scalpel and smiled a bit as I made contact with it. Just as I was about to pull my hand out, two things happened.

The first was the feel of a small rectangular object small enough to be a lighter.

“What are you doing here?”

The second thing was that she came out of the shower. Her black hair was dripping wet, her skin striking against the black towel she had wrapped around her body. She clutched her hand to her chest, and she stared at me.

We both knew she was asking what I was doing here in general and not just in her room.

I threw the luggage to the side, holding in my hand a small scalpel and the Zippo lighter.

“What am I doing here?” I hissed as I got up and walked toward her. Her silver eyes flashed, but she stood her ground. “Do you even care that I didn’t die?” I spat the words in her face, making her flinch. While I had the upper hand, I grabbed her by the throat and punched her against the wall.

“Answer me,” I demanded as I brought the scalpel to her throat, mimicking a line like the one Robinson had made me.

When she didn’t speak and instead raised her chin defiantly, I gave her a cruel smile. Adding pressure to her neck, my blood sped up as it cut through her delicate skin. A faint line of blood appeared as I slashed across her throat.

“That’s precisely how Robinson cut me—” I whispered as I used my thumb to remove the blood. “—only deeper.”

I brought the thumb to my mouth, licking it.

Her eyes followed the movement, and then they landed on the scar on my eye, and they flashed, and that fucking triggered me. She did not get to feel any fucking remorse for leaving me out there to die.

I stabbed the scalpel to the wall, nicking her neck in the process. Oops, my bad. Then I forced her to give me her hand, grabbed her fingers, rubbed them over the roughness of my eye.

“He almost stabbed my fucking eye out,” I said, inching my face closer to her. Rage and lust coursed through my every pore. I wanted her to beg, I wanted her to scream. Our foreheads pressed together, and I was well aware she had not moved an inch at all since I pinned her to the wall. “I swore…” I said, my nose gliding down hers. “That if I got out of the jungle alive…” I whispered against her soft, plump lips. I wanted her to fucking kneel at my feet—yet the urge to claim her lips was right there.

“I would kill you,” I said through gritted teeth before I fucking bit her lower lip. Daphne opened her mouth and screamed into my mouth.

I pulled back as soon as I swallowed her pain. “Now, kneel and beg me for your life.”

She licked the blood of her lips, and her unwavering stare penetrated me.

“No,” she said.

I yanked her toward me by her hair, holding her in a tight fist so she wouldn’t go anywhere.

“No?” I mocked. “Are you ready to die?”

“You won’t kill me,” she said, so sure of herself, and it irritated me and made my cock hard as fuck at the same time.

I chuckled, the grip on her hair getting tighter, aware that I was going to leave her scalp burning and red. She didn’t show that she was in pain, and I hated that. I hated it when I got the version of herself she gave the whole world.

“Answer me.” I seethed.

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