Page 71 of Emperor of Lust

“Prescott Harding,” she whispers, voice hollow. “He… He was there.”

“Wait here,” I order, letting her go reluctantly.

“Damian, no?—”

I’m already gone.

The rage is a live wire running through my veins, an unstoppable current that sparks with every step I take. I follow Prescott as he heads into a stairwell that winds down into the underground parking garage.

He’s walking casually as he gets to the garage, oblivious. Even if he wasn’t, I don’t care about stealth. I don’t care about anything except making him regret every second he’s been allowed to breathe.

“Prescott,” I call out sharply.

He stops, his hand halfway to the door of an Audi. He turns around, confusion flashing in his eyes. “Can I help you?” he asks nervously, catching the expression on my face.

I remain silent as I march toward him, death etched across my face.

“Who—” He shivers. “Who are you?”

“I’mKarma, motherfucker,” I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. “And I’m here to blow up your whole fucking world.”

He backs against his car, hands raised slightly. “Look, I don’t know you?—”

“No,” I growl. “But you do know Hana Mori.”

The color drains from his face. His eyes widen, panic flaring in them. “I—I don’t want any trouble.”

“Life isfullof disappointments, Prescott”.

My fist meets his face with a sickening crunch. I barely feel the impact, watching impassively as he reels back, slamming into his car.

I stride forward, feeling the pulsing heat of raw fury overtaking me. Prescott’s bleeding mouth opens to stammer some pathetic plea for mercy.

He’ll get none from me.

I want to grind him into dust for what he did, what he watched and did nothing to stop, what helaughed at. My fist comes down again on his jaw, then his cheekbone, then his teeth. Prescott crumples, but I don’t stop.

He staggers back, clutching his face, blood trickling between his fingers as he tries to pull himself away, desperation in his eyes. I follow, relentless, feeling nothing but the need to destroy him, to make him feel an ounce of the horror he heaped on Hana.

I grab him by the collar and throw him against the nearest car. His head hits the metal with a satisfying thud, and I lean close, my voice darkening to a growl. “Thought you could just walk away, asshole? Like you didn’t do anything? Didn’t hurt anyone?”

He tries to respond, his words incoherent. I barely register the crowd growing around us, the horrified gasps and whispers, the sound of someone taking a photo with their phone.

Nothing matters right now except my hands on him, the wonderful sensation of his flesh turning to pulp under my fists.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on my arm, pulling me back to reality. I whirl, ready to tear apart whoever’s foolish enough to interfere,but I stop, frozen, when I find myself looking at Hana, pale, visibly shaken, but steady.

“Enough,” she says, her hand on my arm grounding me. “That’s enough now, Damian.”

The rage in me retreats as I look at her, the tension in my body draining away under her gaze. I let go of Prescott, who collapses unconscious in a heap, my focus solely on her. She threads her fingers through mine, gently pulling me away from the scene, away from the onlookers’ stares and murmurs.

We slip around a corner of the garage, finally out of sight. The adrenaline still hums in my veins, raw and untamed, and without warning I grab her, savoring the gasp on her lips as I pin her against the wall. I tighten my grip on her, feeling that fierce, possessive fire rise within me again.

She stares up at me, her expression a mixture of shock and something dark and needy.

“I’dkillfor you,” I rasp, breath heavy, voice low, eyes boring into hers. “You’remine.”

And planets collide as I crush my lips to hers.

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