Page 101 of Taming Seraphine

As she tugs on the tape, Catania’s eyes widen. I step forward to get a closer look. I’ve seen garrotes made of wire or rope or even neckties, but never one fashioned out of something so mundane. She twists it around her hand, pulling it even higher around his neck.

Catania wheezes and gasps, his face turning a deep shade of red that matches the blood still weeping from his injuries. His breaths become labored, his eyes bulge, and he thrashes within his restraints.

“Take it, whore,” Seraphine yells over the sounds of his screams. “Take it all.”

With her free hand, she jams the hammer’s handle into his stab wound, making me groan. I have never seen someone so small and innocent commit such a violent act of justice.

Seraphine’s cheeks are flushed the way they were when we were in the fetish store. Without the contact lenses, her eyes are blue and bright, giving me glimpses of the insanity that dwells within her soul. It’s creative, spontaneous, and thrilling. My breath quickens, and I regret not being awake during her poker massacre.

She’s an avenging angel, bathed with righteousness and blood. An avenging angel I am aching to taste.

I’ve never been more aroused.

Catania’s gaze meets mine in a silent plea for mercy, but I’m so mesmerized by Seraphine’s ability to improvise that I can’t even muster up the words to tell him he brought this punishment onto himself.

Because he did.

He should have refused Capello’s depraved order, but he followed it out of a desire to degrade Evangeline. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already harbored sick thoughts about Seraphine’s mother, and that moment was the culmination of his twisted dreams. Now, he’s being violated and strangled by a beautiful woman.

What a way to die.

Possessiveness overwhelms my thoughts at the sight of Seraphine violating another man. I want to be the one who makes her blood run hot, the one to take her to the brink of pleasure.

Catania falls limp. I can’t tell if he’s dead or just unconscious, but I don’t care.

I push off the wall and stalk toward Seraphine, who gazes up at me with defiance.

My cock throbs with the need to own her, claim her, make her mine, but I swore to myself that I wouldn’t get involved.

No kissing.

No penetrative sex.

That was our arrangement.

“I made another mess,” she says, her voice husky.

“You did.” I cup the side of her face.

She lowers her lashes, her breath coming in shallow pants as though she finds my touch electrifying. When she raises her gaze to meet mine again, her eyes spark with desire. They’re a silent plea for me to take control.

Shit.

I should send her back to the apartment, wait until my blood is cooled, or even walk away. I should distract her with the mention of Gabriel.

But I can’t.

I can’t focus on anything but Seraphine’s hunger.

There’s a darkness to her that draws me in so deeply that I lose all notions of good intentions.

My thumb brushes over her bottom lip, making her shiver. She takes another step closer until we’re breathing the same air. When she presses against me and brings her mouth closer to mine, my resolve not to get involved crumbles.

It’s just one kiss. Just one taste.

“Fuck it.”

I lean down and press my lips to hers, and instantly regret it. Kissing Seraphine is like finding home. As I pull back, she loops the tape measure around the back of my neck and holds me in place.

---