Page 449 of Rage

Killian steps into my space. I inhale, breasts pushing into his chest, his body heat scorching me.

He’s death in human form—dark tight sweater, dark jeans that hang low on his hips, a pair of black combat books that make him even taller. His inked hands clench at his sides, as if trying to halt the urge to grab me.

Under his collar, there's more ink, just asking for a touch.

I want him. I want to feel him close, his skin against mine, his hands in my hair, kissing his lips. Every single inch of his body I want pressed to mine in the most intimate of ways. I need it like I need air.

At some point, my annoyance and anger at the reaper turned into something hotter, more wicked. It could have been the many times he healed me and stitched me back together. It could have been when he left me gifts before leaving the mansion—simple treasures like drawings he would doodle in a notepad before departing in the night.

Or it could be because I see that inner darkness in him. The same one that lives inside my chest, that’s festered and grown with every day I ignore it. The darkness that begs me to release it onto my enemies, to scorch the earth for anyone daring to hurt me.

I feel the same urge inside Killian, an unhinged deadly presence that he can barely control. Control that seems to snap and break in my presence.

Licking my lips, I see his attention on my mouth.

“Killian.”

Slowly, he drags his black eyes up, and what I see steals my breath.

So many emotions. Lust, rage, possession. Everything I’ve ever wanted from him shines at me in those endless depths.

“Who is it, Maeve?” His words are rough, pained. “Give me a name.”

I swallow. “There’s no one.”

“No one,” he echoes.

He looks down again, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb.

“If you were mine, I’d never let you out of the house like this,” he whispers, a hand curling around my throat, as if to hold me closer.

My stomach drops.

Another restriction. Another man who thinks he can control me.

I long for freedom, for the power, for my control of this clan. This is what I’m fighting for, what I survived for. Another man is not going to keep me from achieving it.

“Because you don’t want others to see me like this?” I sound bitter.

He smirks, and it’s positively devilish. “Because I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you long enough to let you leave.” His lips brush mine, and sparks ignite over my skin. I almost whimper. “Let them look, Princess. I’ll pluck out their eyes, rip out their throats, and then fuck you on top of their corpses. Because you’d bemine.”

Wetness coats my panties, causing me to shift uncomfortably. Killian’s words should not be turning me on, butit figures his dark unhinged fantasies would stir something in me.

I live in the dark, embracing the evil that thrives there. Killian does the same. We are two broken souls who took the dark and made it ours.

I wish I could forget my plans and climb into that fantasy, cling to Killian’s bones and make my home in his heart.

But I have a plan and I need to follow it through.

“Killian…”

“Whoever it is, will pale in comparison to me, Maeve. I promise you that.” His fingers flex at my neck, pulling me close.

Without warning, we shift, and he wraps a lean arm around my back, slamming us into the wall. The force pushes me against him, and he cages me to the wall, one long leg parting my thighs to hold me captive.

This is the first time I’ve ever felt happy to be caught. Killian’s weight feels too good to fight, his knee sending waves of friction all over my body. I gasp as he leans closer, rubbing just enough to heat my skin.

He inhales at my neck, scenting me. “Fuck, Maeve. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Your legs wrapped around my hips. I bet you are a fucking sight when you come.”

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