Page 451 of Rage

“Perks?” I move closer, letting my hips sway. This isn’t easy for me. I don’t do seduction well.I’m too tough, too brash.

“That ass of yours.” His beady eyes lower. “Much better now. And those tits? Fuck.” He bites his lower lip, and it takes everything in me not to visibly react.

“Lay back,” I purr. It’s now or never. He does so without question.

I follow, hiking my skirt high on my hips for better leverage. My fingers graze the pearl inlaid handle against my thigh like a dinghy in the storm. The heaviness of it eases my heart at being so close to a monster.

“Do you know what I think about when I’m all alone?”

Michael shakes his head, eyes glued to my form. This is his fantasy come to life. “No, what?” His voice has lowered, as if enjoying my little act. As if I’ve actually agreed to this punishment.

I smirk.

“How good I’ll look covered in your blood.”

There is a pregnant pause, the words ringing out loudly around us. Swiftly, as if I had rehearsed it, I grab the knife from my skirt and arch it over my head.

I plunge. One, two, three strikes before I lose count. I don’t bother to remember them, just feel the movement of my arm, my body swaying with each stabbing like a memorized choreography.

Dozens and dozens of marks litter his body, ruby red staining the sheets under him. I watch the trails of blood splatter against the walls, hitting the ceiling with a frenzy I didn’t know I possessed. But it was there, under the surface, buried along with my rage as I finally surrendered to it.

I always dreamed of the sounds he’d make as I cut him into tiny pieces. It’s even better in real life. Sweet. Loud. Agonizing.

Pulling back slightly, I lick the knife, tasting the copper tang of his blood. It’s sweet. It tastes like melting cotton candy on a hot summer’s day. Like promises and a bright future where I lead.

“Your blood tastes almost as good as your death, Michael.” I smirk, lips bloody.

He gurgles something horrible and my smile grows feral.

“You’ll never touch me again. You’ll never touchanyoneagain.” I strike again, slicing into his throat. It’s a hard hit, lodging on bone. “You thought you could take my power, my clan? This is my birthright and I will lead. Withoutyou.”

A death hiss releases from his mouth, his body deflating, cold eyes rolling up to the ceiling. My words were the last things he heard. The minute his soul leaves the room, it grows brighter, my chest lighter.

It’s done.He’s gone.

A sob catches in my chest. Relief so heavy surrounds my heart and my eyes well.

“Maeve.”

Glancing to the bedroom door, I see Killian gripping the sides of the threshold as if to physically restrain himself.

Shit.

Chapter Seven

Killian

Maeve didn’t want me.

Maybe whoever she was going to see, dressed likethat, was someone she loved.

I had half a mind to follow her and slice the fucker’s neck to rid me of the competition.

How dare someone have what ismine?

Maeveis mine.

Since we were kids, I was drawn to her. Since I saw the marks on her body, healed her wounds. She wasmine.

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