Page 52 of Kiss the Villain

“Stay away. I won’t repeat myself a third time.”

“I’m only trying to have a civil conversation?—”

The bastard shoots me. The arrow’s rubber head slams against my shoulder, sending it backward. Pain erupts in my muscle and I suppress a groan.

“Thatscared?” I keep walking and he shoots at me again, this time to my thigh, and I hit the ground on one knee.

Motherfucker.

A shadow looms over me, his next arrow pointed down at me as his voice roughens, his eyes sparkling behind the mask. “You know, I was willing to let your insolence go, but you just wouldn’t fuck off. You’re always buzzing around my head like an annoying fucking fly,Professor. Buzzing and buzzing, and fuckingbuzzing. Maybe I should silence you for good.”

He reaches into the quiver on his shoulder and retrieves a real arrow with a sharp head, then taps it under the moonlight slipping from beneath the clouds. “I use this for boars, huge fucking beasts like you. One shot to your heart and it’s over.”

I laugh, the sound loud and perhaps a bit deranged.

Like this piece of work.

His shoulders tense up as he stands straight. “You think I’m joking? You believe I can’t kill you?”

“No, I’m sure you will, and you’ll do it with flying colors. Hell, you’ll make sure no one will find my corpse. You’ll melt me with acid, maybe. Or attach me to heavy sandbags and throw me in the ocean to feed the sharks. If anyone can get away with murder, it’s you.” I grin at him. “You’re a natural, baby.”

“Stop calling me that.” He points the arrow at my chest.

“What? Baby? Do you hate the actual nickname or that it reminds you of how good I can make you feel?”

“You seem to be tired of living, asshole.”

“Go ahead. Shoot.” I push my chest against his arrow. “Escalate from rapist to murderer. Prove me right.”

He goes still, but I hear his panting raw breaths behind that mask. I can’t see his eyes well, but they’re either glaring or caught in a lost state.

Maybe both.

“Prove you right?” His voice is deeper, a bit on edge, but I can’t place the emotion. I can, however, feel the tip of the arrow digging into my chest, cutting through the jacket and shirt and nicking my skin, right above my heart.

Fucking lunatic would kill me in a heartbeat.

And that doesn’t stir any fear. If anything, a jolt of excitement vibrates through my veins and my dick.

Because, yes, his violent side turns me on.

Or maybe it’s the idea of shoving this menace to his knees.

To control the uncontrollable.

To ride a wild horse.

“Yes, Carson. Prove to me that you can’t ascend above your basic urges. That you can’t shake off the constant voices that tell you to harm, kill, and watch life leave your victims’ eyes. You’re a natural at inflicting. It’s your default setting. I thought you had better control over yourself, which is why you built and honed your public persona, but perhaps I was wrong about you. Truth is, youcan’tfight your nature. Like all animals, you easily succumb to your subhuman instinct.”

It's subtle, but I feel the arrow shifting on my skin, grazing it. I’m definitely bleeding, and he did it on purpose.

Towatchme bleed.

Because that’s where his eyes are. On the arrow and the dark patch on the jacket he probably can’t see so well.

But there was another shift. A tensing in his grip when I said a particular sentence.

Perhaps I was wrong about you.

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