Page 91 of Shattered & Returned

The memory of that damned note flared in my mind—the encrypted line left on my pillow, demanding I meet himwhere he’d drunk from me.His crude reference to the pleasure he’d given me had sent fury and heat coursing through me in equal measures. How had it even gotten into my room? The arrogance, thevulgarityof it!

I didn’t forget his betrayal, and I’d never forgive. My code was ironclad. Once a cheater, always a cheater. And losers didn’t deserve second chances.

I’d practiced weaving flames just to watch his summons burn, savoring the petty victory as the parchment turned to ash. And now he had the audacity to hunt me down? After humiliating me in the club, spanking me like I was…his whore?

For a wild moment, I thought about slamming my forehead into his perfect nose. But he was an immortal, and I was painfully mortal. The only blood spilled would be mine, followed by the humiliating wheeze of my inhaler.

So I bared my teeth instead. “Fuck you.”

His smirk deepened, all dark amusement. “That can be arranged.” He leaned in, his minty breath warming the shell of my ear. “I’ve been waiting for you to take the initiative.”

I saw red. My chest heaved. Nero really brought out the worst in me. I’d always prided myself on my restraint, but this man shattered it with infuriating ease. My hand flew up, only for him to catch my wrist mid-swing. His grip was firm but not painful, his thumb brushing over my wild pulse before he brought my fingers to his mouth.

His lips pressed against my skin, warm and deliberate, and I shuddered. The sensation shot through me, treacherous and electric. For one dizzying second, I feared my knees might buckle, exactly what he wanted. To see me unravel. To play me like a damn instrument.

“You’re a stalker,” I spat, yanking my hand back the moment he released it. Regret spiked through me immediately. I should’ve let him keep going, should’ve used him and taken what pleasure I could before throwing it back in his face.

Nero’s smirk was pure sin. “Of course,” he said, his voice a silky scrape. “You’re too irresistible, baby.”

The words coiled around me, mocking and intoxicating in equal measure. I hated how they made my breath catch. Hated how, despite everything, part of me still thrilled at the chase.

A scowl on my face, I spat, “You actually think you’re charming, don’t you? I hate to tell you. That might work on others, but it’s wasted on me.”

His lips curved. “Is that so? I’ve always enjoyed the chase. Tell me, do you like being stalked?”

I scoffed. “No sane person would. Fuck off.”

“My virtuous maiden,” he crooned, the words dripping with dark amusement. My skin burned even as fury spiked through me. “Always so demure and polite.”

“How many women have you stalked?” I demanded.

His smile didn’t waver. “Only one in every lifetime.”

The admission confirmed what I already knew. He was immortal. And it sent my thoughts spiraling to the murdered redheads spanning centuries. Had he pursued them too, only to end their lives? In every death dream, he’d been there, watching. Yet I still couldn’t reconcile the man before me—the one who guarded the academy’s walls, who fought hunters and monsters—with a heartless murderer.

“Then I suggest you find someone else to torment in this lifetime,” I said icily.

The memory of him with Morrigan flared, sharp as an ice spike. I wouldn’t be that woman who shared, who settled for scraps. Even as the words left my mouth, the thought of him turning his attention to another sent acid churning in my gut.

I smothered the nausea, the jealousy, the rage. Better to endure this sharp, fleeting pain than a lifetime of slow poison. Whatever hold he had on me would fade. I wouldn’t let him twist me again. Never again would I allow him to have power over me.

His gaze darkened, that infuriating smirk never wavering. “Too bad I’m only interested in you.”

I exhaled sharply. “Why me?” The question tore free before I could stop it.

“Why not you, little pale flower?” His voice was mocking and tender all at once.

“I’mpale, as you said,”I bit out, my jaw clenched. “Frail. You saw me humiliated when I was gasping for air. The entire academy talked about me being the weakest student. I’mnothingspecial.”

His fingers brushed my chin, tilting my face up. “Are you certain of that?” The way his lips curved, fond and knowing, sent heat spiraling through me.

“Stop playing games,” I snapped.

“I don’t play.”

“Is it the hair, then?” I yanked a strand of my red hair, the copper catching the orbs of light. “You have a type, don’t you? Redheads.”

His gaze locked onto mine, piercing and enigmatic. “Not just any redhead.”

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