Page 42 of The Bastard Prince

De las cenizas de mi odio.

From the ashes of my hatred, I will be reborn.

"I wouldn't fall asleep if I were you," I whispered menacingly, narrowing my eyes at the beady-eyed, tattooed devil with the marijuana smoke wafting from the joint pursed between his lips. Strapped to the tattooed devil's back was a double shoulder strap, in his hands were two matching pistols, identical to the ones Trigger used for work. "You might not wake up."

"My gun is on the nightstand," he said flatly, keeping his back to me. "Do your worst."

God, where did he go?

Where didIgo?

How did we end up like this?

In a matter of nine years, we had gone from acquaintances to tutors, friends to allies, lovers to enemies, tothis?

"Aren't you scared?" I was so full of turmoil that it was hard tobreathe. I glared at his beautiful body and felt an immediate swell of inner repulsion for the flutter of excitement that erupted deep in my womb. "You could die tonight."

Silence.

"You know I'm capable of taking your life."

More silence.

"You would deserve it."

Nothing.

Furious at being ignored, I leaned over his hard, naked body and snatched his gun off the nightstand.

His body was ripped from head to toe and it terrified me.

Because those muscles had been used against me.

"Feel that?" I hissed, as I held the gun shakily and pressed the barrel to his temple. "It's not nice, is it?" I pushed the cool metal into his flesh. "To not be in control of your body?" Shivering, I steadied my hand. "To be at someone else's mercy?"

"Don’t forget to cock it," was all he replied, keeping his back to me. "Like I taught you."

Bastard.

"Look at me!"

He didn’t.

Pushing on his big shoulder, I forced him onto his back and then straddled his naked body with mine. "Look in my eyes, you piece of shit –" Grabbing his big hand, I pinned it above his head before quickly reaching for the other hand.

Trigger remained motionless beneath me, both pacifying and infuriating me by keeping his hands pinned in place when he could so easily overpower me.

Like earlier.

A sob escaped me at the memory of what happened in his father's lair and I cocked the hammer and aimed the gun between his eyes. "Bang, bang, Trig," I whispered, eyes locked on his as I held the gun in both hands. "Bang, bang."

"All of this talking is not killing me,corderito," he replied gruffly, accent thick, watching me with an intense expression, hands still dutifully pinned above his head. "You can scratch me with your claws," he added thickly. "You can threaten my life – you can try to take it, if that heals what I broke." Stretching out beneath me, he made no move to overpower me. "Take what you need from me."

"Fight me," I demanded, enraged by his comfort. "Fight me, bastard prince." Hacking up a phlegm ball, I spat on his chest, returning his earlier favor. "Fight yourwhore."

He didn't.

Instead, Trigger remained motionless beneath me, brown eyes searing me. This huge, powerful gangster who was twice my size was denying me what I needed most.

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