Page 97 of Sinister Legacy
As if that will stop me.
Her gaze darts around the room, and then she picks up the alarm clock on the bedside table.
I tut when it crashes to the floor. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
The look on her face turns murderous. “Overreacting, King? Really? You’re the one who kicked down my goddamn door!” She points at it on the floor. “How do I explain that to my mom?”
My shoulders rise and fall in a careless shrug. “You’re putting obstacles between us. What did you expect to happen?”
“Not that,” she all but squeals, and it’s too cute not to smile.
I grow serious, rounding the bed. Keira jumps up on the springy mattress and darts across it like a sprinting rabbit that barely escapes my clutches. I launch myself at her, but she gets away just in the nick of time.
Then she’s gone, running back down the hallway. Before she can fly down the staircase, I grab her by the hair and yank her back. I’m not gentle, but I know she wants me to bring her my worst so that she can fight me and pretend she hates every second.
I bet she would soak my hand if I touched her cunt.
Her breath gets knocked out of her as her back collides with my hard chest. She continues to struggle, so I band an arm around her waist, effectively trapping her arms against her sides. I slam my other hand over her mouth to muffle her screaming. The last thing we want is to alert the cops outside. Keira sure fucking knows how to scream like a banshee.
“You like to tease me with your pathetic screams, don’t you? Taunt my dick with your fighting?”
Her nostrils flare, and she immediately stops struggling, which makes me chuckle.
“Mind games count as fighting, too. You think I’ll grow bored and let you go if you turn weightless in my arms? Wrong.” I seize her arm, hauling her down the hallway toward the bathroom, where I shove her inside.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she asks as I switch on the overhead light before walking over to the bathtub.
She makes no move to run, though, and her intrigued eyes follow my every movement while I plug the bath and turn the taps.
As the water begins to fill the bath, I straighten and half-turn. “If you’re smart, you’ll run.”
Drawing in a shuddering breath, she retreats a step but makes no move to escape. Her eyes never once leave the bathtub. “What are you doing, King?”
“You like to play games.” I bend at the waist, looking at her over my shoulder while testing the temperature with my fingers. “So tonight, we’ll play.”
Her throat jumps, and she slowly slides her gaze up to mine. “You’re scaring me, King.”
“You know the safe word.” I grab her by the arm and pull her to me, making her yelp as she collides with my chest. Her scared, blue eyes flicker with uncertainty for a brief moment, but she stays silent, even while she tries to fight me off. Her hands lash out and slap my chest, my face, my arms, anywhere she can reach until I grab her wrist so hard that the bones grind together. Her terrified whimper drowns out the running taps and the sound of the sloshing water. Her eyes fly up to mine, silently pleading with me to stop.
To continue.
The mixture of emotions in her gaze is a heady concoction of drugs. I’m an addict, and she’s my fix.
I bring the knife to her throat, the blade glinting in the muted overhead light. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me, or I’ll be forced to use this on you, understood?”
Her pulse hammers wildly in her slender wrist, which feels so small and breakable in my hand. The urge to snap it swirls in my veins.
“Understood?” I ask again as she glares up at me from beneath her long, wispy lashes. Even now, with a knife pressed to her throat, she’s defiant.
That’s what I love the most about her.
She never backs down.
And she stares evil in the eye without cowering.
Wait a minute…
Love?
