Page 65 of The Kiss Of Death
I stared him down, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. “I’ll give up on you, and you could torture me all you want, but I’ll never react. I’ll be as good as dead. You’ll be bored of me and go back to being your empty self.”
His lips stretched into a scowl. “Interesting. And as for earlier, no, no one is hurting Yasmine—unless she’s into this kind of foreplay.”
“Your friends should stay away from her.”
“Do you want them for yourself? Be careful, Dalia, I could be a jealous man with you.”
“So you’ll hurt your own friends if I were to want one of them?” I smiled at how ridiculous this whole thing was, but his eyes narrowed into two sharp, menacing daggers, causing my lips to clamp shut. “You’re insane.”
“Yes,” he said sharply, his hand closing on the doorframe so he could lean over me. “You can’t get rid of me. I’m like the shadow behind your back, and as for being insane, aren’t all geniuses?”
Our breaths mingled in the sparse air between us as he drew nearer, closing the gap. I brought my hands back to my sides, my eyes flicking to the group of Unifier girls passing by in the hall.
“You’re also disillusioned.”
Levi tilted my head up, his fingers moving aside the collar of my pajamas to reveal my collarbone. “What do you have here?”
Chills cascaded along my flesh. He was looking at the crimson bruises on my neck. The infamous violin hickey. I usually tried to prevent them as best as I could because it looked like I’d had “action all night,” as Grandma said, while Dad used to insist on eight Hail Marys as penance.
Right, tons of action with my violin. We’re at four hours a day.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s a hickey,” Levi rasped, a muscle tensing in his jaw. “It better be one from your violin.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and straightened back my collar. “Or what?”
He pressed me against the wall, his fingers tracing the outline of my bruise before stopping on the throbbing pulse in my neck. His gaze was akin to steel, cold and unyielding, sparks skittering across my spine.
“There will be consequences. Unpleasant ones.”
“There are people here,” I stammered, girls watching us in the hall.
Levi spared them a glare briefly before humming. “Then let’s give them something to watch, little thief.”
“Levi, don’t you—”
My protest was cut short by his lips crashing into mine, dominating and claiming. They were incredibly soft. Another lie about him. His hand snatched around my waist, binding me to him. He smelled like a dark, secluded, mossy forest after a rainstorm. A jolt shot through my stomach, causing it to contract. With wide eyes, I glanced at the students, who quickly looked away.
It felt like more than just a kiss.
He branded me, seeking ownership, wanting to tear me limb from limb, shredding me like ribbons. His full hand grabbed my throat, and I didn’t trust him not to choke me. Worse, I didn’t trust myself to push him away, my body betraying me with the increase of my heartbeats, the fire surging in my belly, the need to tighten my legs.
“You’re mine. My little doll to play with,” his hoarse voice promised as he trapped my lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it.
I’d spent all my life seeking freedom—I wouldn’t let Levi control me. If I strived to be like him, free and strong, I couldn’t be controlled by him. His tongue invaded my mouth, and he pushed me back into my dorm, slamming me against the wall. The door snapped shut behind us. His free hand slipped undermy pajama shorts to my thighs, and I gasped, a whirlwind of thoughts battling in my mind.
“Are you wet for me, Dalia?”
I was. His mouth closed on my neck, my collarbone, my throat, but all I could focus on was how I wanted him to touch me. To want me. I pressed my body further against him, my chest heaving up. My brain sent conflicting signals; none of my Catholic talk seemed enough to stop me.You can’t trust your heart around him, Dalia.
“Levi,” I pleaded.
He caressed me from on top of my panties. It felt so good. So new. My breathing quickened. I pushed my hips further into him, wanting to feel the friction. What was I doing?
“I knew it. So fucking wet.”
No. I can’t do this.
