Page 69 of Scarlet Mark
Then kill them.
My only disappointment was the lack of pain involved with dying by poison. They deserved worse. Like a knife across the throat. But Killian assured me this would send a deeper message, one Malcom would receive loud and clear. And I agreed.
“There,” I said, spotting the familiar duo. I didn’t point, just gestured subtly with my head as I moved to face Killian. He wrapped his palm around the back of my neck to pull me to him, staking his claim.
“You recognize them with the masks?” He murmured the words against my lips.
“It’s their postures.” Arrogant. Strong shoulders. Carved chins. Handsome men, as most in Malcom’s circle were, but I recognized the monsters beneath their clothes now. I knew how to read a man with a glance alone.
It was why I trusted Killian. Yes, a predator writhed beneath his skin, but it was more akin to a panther lying in wait. The two bastards beside the ballroom wall reminded me of hyenas—desperate creatures that enjoyed ripping apart their prey while chattering happily about each detail.
A chill swept over me as I recalled their hands on me. Their tongues. Their cocks.
Killian’s grip tightened, his gaze burning into mine. “Harness the pain and fury.” His thumb traced my pulse. “It’s your greatest weapon. Sharpen it into a lethal point and use it.”
“Is that what you do?” I wondered, searching his features, or what I could see of them beyond the mask. “You don’t strike me as having a harsh past.”
“I don’t.” He skimmed his lips across my cheek, pressing them to my ear. “But I like to deliver pain. The kill excites me, kitten. Correcting a wrong, teaching someone a lesson, it’s all a high that I crave.” He nipped my earlobe. “Remember what I told you? I’m not a hero. I’m a villain and this is my playground.”
My throat went dry at his words, my heart skipping a beat. “You’re not a villain,” I whispered, drawing my fingertips across his jaw. “Not to me.” I’d been around my share of bad men. Killian didn’t qualify.
His touch slid down to my backside, pulling me against him. “We’re attracting attention.”
“I thought that was the point.” My lips curled into the most salacious grin I could muster—something he inspired all too easily from me. “Shall I go play?”
“Yes. Go mingle.” He squeezed my ass. “Make them want you.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” I murmured, sliding my nail into his mouth teasingly. “You picked the perfect dress.” It was black and revealing and better designed for the bedroom than the ballroom.
He bit my finger, his gaze smoldering. It released with a pop that I heard over the subtle background music. “You wear it very well, darling.”
“I know.” I’d been bred and trained to pull off this gown, the low neckline and nonexistent back radiating sin and temptation. “I’m going to find someone to fix me a drink. Watch me?”
Those last two words slipped out as a plea, one I didn’t mean to voice but had to say.Don’t leave me. When had I ever relied on a man like this? On anyone? Never. Yet somehow Killian had become my knight. Not a white one, but a knight adorned in shades of gray.
My assassin.
“As if I could look anywhere else.” He winked as he pulled away. “Give me something fun to watch, kitten. Visual foreplay, if you will.”
“I thought you preferred words?” I teased, my blood warming despite the coolness left behind from his lack of touch.
“Tonight, I’m in the mood for violence.” His expression darkened, the innuendo clear. He’d gone easy on me this week, introducing me to his preferences slowly and thoroughly, but tonight the panther inside of him yearned to be freed.
And I was his desired prey.
I shivered, not in fear but in anticipation. “Then I better get to work, sir.”
“Now,” he said, the command in his voice one that caused my lips to quirk upward. It would be so easy to defy him, but I didn’t want to.
No, quite the opposite.
I wanted to impress him, and in doing so, impress myself.
Because we were a team.
And tonight we would cement our partnership in blood.
Killian
