Page 19 of Heartless

His laugh is soft and harsh, and he’s close enough to my face that I feel his breath against my lips. “I know what you think when you look at me. You’re not very subtle, princess. You never have been. I know you think I killed her. You’re so sureI’mthe reason her mother was covered in blood this morning, aren’t you?”

He isn’t wrong in the least. But I don’t want to admit he’s right. Instead, I opt not to say anything at all, but that doesn’t seem to bother him either.

“Why would I lie to you about killing her, hmm? I’m not exactly shy with you knowing what I’ve done. I let you watch Carissa die, after all.” His voice is goading and soft. Almost a purr in his chest that has my heart slamming against my ribs in fear.

Well, mostly fear.

Because if there’s one thing I hate the most about Cassian Byers, it’s the fact that deep down, I’ve never beenjustafraid of him.

And now I’m terrified he knows it too.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, realizing belatedly that I’m not trying to fight him anymore. His thighs are snug around my hips, his jeans rubbing against the exposed skin from where my shirt has ridden up slightly. It shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t care.

But now I can’t stop thinking aboutallof it. Of his breath against my skin, of how he’s straddling me in my bed. There’s not enough fear or memories of him stabbing Carissa in theworld to make my brain stop running through the smallest details as I shift under him, uncomfortable for more reasons than just fear.

“You don’t know, or you just don’t want to admit that I’m right? I have nothing to hide from you, Winnie. Not when you’ve seen all of me for years.” I can barely see his face in the dark, but I canfeelthe heaviness of his gaze. “Just like I’ve seen all of you.”

“That’s a lie,” I’m quick to reply, wanting to deny it. “You’ve been gone since I was twelve. You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” he trails off with a soft chuckle. “I’m never really gone. And you’ve never really been rid of me. Don’t kid yourself.”

“I hate you.” That’s the only thing I can think of to say to him. The only words I can find, even though they’re petulant and unconvincing. “I hate you so fucking much. You ruined my childhood?—”

“Don’t give me so much credit. We both know who and what really ruined your childhood. I just tried to pick up the pieces where I could—” he breaks off as I surge upward again, trying to knock him off of me through sheer surprise so I can make a run for it.

But he doesn’t fall for it. He pushes me back down with a huff, his fingers curling lightly around the base of my throat. “Settle down, sweetheart,” he tells me, voice dripping with mocking sincerity. “Or you’re going to rip your stitches.” My lips twist into a sneer, but I swear he only smiles wider in the dark. “Oh, that’s right,” he coos. “You fucking hate that, don’t you? You just despise being told tosettle.”

His face is closer than it needs to be, and every time I blink, I swear he seems a little closer. My breaths come in sharp pants, and I wrap my fingers around his wrist, holding there like he holds my throat. Though my nails dig into his skin where thepads of his fingers simply rest against mine. Not that he seems to even notice. Or care.

“If you know I hate it so much, then why say it?” I snap finally, my heart slamming against my ribs like it’s also looking for an escape.

“Because you hate it, of course.” His tone is laced with amusement. “Now pay attention, Winnie. Before I get tired of repeating myself. I.” Cassian definitely leans closer with every word; there’s no mistaking it this time.

“Did not kill Lacey Clarke.” A jolt goes through me the instant his lips brush mine when he nears the end of his statement, and I open my mouth as if to protest.

I swear, I really am going to tell him to get the hell off of me or at least sit up.

But I don’t get the words out. I don’t even get tostartmy threat. Cassian’s mouth presses to mine, and he takes advantage of my need to get the last word in. His tongue dips between my parted lips, flicking against mine as the hand on my throat holds me just a little tighter. I can barely keep up with him as he explores my mouth and takes absolute control over the kiss, as if it’s his right.

As if he knows exactly where this should go.

Even when he pulls away, my mouth is still open, though now it’s to drag air into my neglected lungs while I stare up at him in shock. Though a small flicker of satisfaction goes through me when I realize he’s a little surprised as well. Like he hadn’t expected to actually do it.

Like maybe this wasn’tquitein his well-laid out plans.

“Winnie…” he growls, my name is a warning, though I have no idea what I’ve done to provoke him. “Fuck.” He leans down again as if magnetized, and my only protest is a soft whine that he swallows greedily. Eagerly. His teeth nip at my lower lip,mouth insistent against mine as he hunts for more noises or sharp little inhaled gasps that he can take for himself.

He gets them, too. More than I want him to as my brain tries to play catch up, as I try to focus on something other than his mouth and his fingers.

As I try to remember why I need a weapon or my phone.

His hand leaves my neck to splay against my stomach, fingers pressed to my skin as he slides them up gently, slowly, bringing my shirt up as well and causing my muscles to contract at his every touch. My breathing picks up, and I ask myself once, then twice, if I’m going to let him do this.

If I’m going to let him doallof this without protest.

But just as his fingers brush the underside of my breasts and a soft, satisfied sound travels from his mouth to mine, a distant sound makes him jerk back and makes my eyes widen.

Police sirens wail outside, getting closer with every moment that Cass and I stare at each other in confusion.

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