Page 28 of Sardonic Burn

“Let’s have a chat, Noelle.”

EIGHT

I’m not a saint.

I’ve never claimed to be one, either.

In my twenty-three years of life, I’ve done many terrible things. I’ve taken countless lives, tried nearly every drug on the market, and had one night stands with people I’ve met for the first time in clubs. I’ve rebelled, and I’ve messed with people’s heads for fun. I’ve blown up the Irish Embassy because one Irish man pissed the hell out of me.

I’ve come to the conclusion that this is my punishment.

It could’ve been anything else but this. Burned at the stake? I’ll gladly light the fire myself. Sent to life in prison? Give me the orange jumpsuit, and I’ll rock it.

Why the fuck did my punishment come in the form of Hudson De Santis?

More importantly, why is he still holding my hand?

He threw the blade far from my reach a while ago. Yet he isn’t moving. He’s keeping me caged between the table and his body with little to no distance between us. If I listen closely; I might be able to hear my heartbeat.

Not his.

That bastard has no heart.

Hudson’s hand is hot, burning my skin. The contrast between the warmth of our flesh sends a wave of chills down my spine, and my throat tightens. I’m barely surviving under his predatory gaze.

He’s staring at me intensely. His hot breath tickles my nose, and he tilts his head to the side. Hudson is studying me, trying to probe deep inside of my soul. Doesn't he know that mine was sealed away a long time ago?

There is no redemption for me.

There is not even a chance of making things right in this world. Not after everything I’ve done in the past.

And I don’t want that.

So why is he looking at me like that? He’s staring as if I’m the purest soul he’s ever seen, desperately wanting to corrupt it and turn it pitch black until it mirrors his.

“Would you mind letting go of me?”

My voice is loud, but it cracks. It causes Hudson to raise his eyebrow in amusement, but his eyes darken a shade. It’s not a pleasant sight; I’ve seen those eyes before. Eyes of a monster ready to ruin his prey.

“I would mind,” he whispers, voice husky.

Danger quickly appears on his face, and I try yanking my hand back, but it’s futile. When it comes to core strength, I’m no match for him, and that makes my blood boil.

“Let go,” I warn, narrowing my eyes at him. “Or I will kill you now.”

“And pray tell, how will you do that?”

“I can be creative when my hand is forced, little De Santis. Now let go.”

I don’t expect him to listen, but he does.

Hudson takes a step back, and I can breathe freely again. Air fills my lungs, and it’s as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I crack my back and walk past him, grabbing one of the knives from the pile just in case.

He’s not leaving yet and no matter how much I want him gone, I’m also a curious creature. I want to know what the fuck he’s after and why he broke into my home.

“So, are you going to tell me what brings you here or should I force it out of you?” I ask while pouring myself a glass of wine.

“I’m curious to find out what method you’d use, but I’m more curious about what’s in that little room on the second floor. It’s locked.”

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