Page 103 of Wanted

“Show me the face of every one that has harmed you.”

The power behind every word he speaks thunders in the marrow of my bones, urging me to give in to him.

On the verge of losing the war against the pressure, I gasp, “Why?”

Why is he so hellbent on this? Why can’t he let it go? Haven’t I been forced to give enough?

His voice lowers to a deadly purr that causes all the little hairs on my body to stand on end. “So I can bring you their heads.”

My breath catches in my lungs. Why would he do that?

Dipping his face close to mine, he stares hard into my eyes. “Because I love you.”

I release my breath in a scoff. “You don’t know me.”

His fiery gaze dims and searches my face. “I know you are mine.”

I shake my head in denial. I’m not his, and there’s no possible way he canloveme.

Love doesn’t come that easily. He may love the idea of me, but if he truly knew me, he wouldn’t be so quick to speak that word.

My own parents couldn’t even bring themselves to love me. How can—

Raphael growls low in his throat, cutting off my train of thought. “Anyone who does not love you is a fucking fool.”

Not only do I scoff again at that, I roll my eyes.

Face tightening with anger, his voice dips even lower. “If you were inside me, you’d know what I speak is true.”

The spot over my heart throbs hard and out of reflex I rub it with my hand, trying to get it to stop.

Am I about to have a freaking heart attack over all of this?!

Does he realize he’s about to kill me with all of his craziness?

Gaze sharpening and snapping to the movement of my hand like a predator that’s been lying in wait, Raphael makes a strange noise deep inside his throat.

A noise that’s a mixture of a growl and a moan.

Then, without warning, he releases my shoulders and shoves my hand out of the way.

Before I can even think to stop him, his claws are tearing my shirt open.

“What are you doing?!” I shout in fear and outrage when what he did finally catches up to my brain.

Looking down, afraid he sliced me open, I see the valley between my breasts exposed.

But that’s not what fills me with me with fear.

It’s the red shape of the infinity symbol on my skin.

The Mark of the Beast.

Somehow, I forgot about it. Forgot that it means I’ll never truly be free.

Even if I escape, I’ll always be hunted.

“See,” he chokes out, “the proof is in your flesh.”

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