The damage is already done. There’s nothing left to lose. It’s just a stupid kiss.
I nodded jerkily.
Kharon’s smirk was sinful as he stepped closer.
Crack. The heir of Artemis, the son of Erebus, the Hunter, fell to his knees in front of the altar.
I stared down at his bowed form.
Augustus stepped closer; in one swift movement, he grabbed my hips, and lifted me so I was seated on top of the altar—Kharon’s face was level with the juncture of my thighs.
A sacrificial bride.
Augustus’s fingers lingered where he grabbed me.
“May I kiss the bride?” Kharon said again, slowly lifting the hem of my toga and exposing my legs. Fingers dragged across sensitive skin.
“What?” I whispered as my vision warped.
Everything was out of focus.
Kharon arched a dark brow, his sharp cheekbones glinting as he challenged me with his eyes.
Kharon wet his lips.
Leaning forward, breath hot against my exposed thigh, he pushed up the last inch of my silk toga over my hips.
The material bunched at my waist.
His intention was obvious.
Queasiness burned deep in my stomach and the room spun.
Butterflies fluttered.
Kharon leaned forward. His breath was hot against the thin fabric that covered my core. “May I kiss the bride?” he repeated with a rasp.
Oh my god.
The butterflies spasmed.
He looked up at me, brow arched mockingly. There was laughter in his eyes, like he didn’t think I’d agree.
This was all a game to them—they were playing with me.
You’re already dead.
I sank deeper into the murky water, into the consequences.
Look what you did to all those people.
I needed a distraction; I needed to forget that I was a serial killer.
“Yes,” I breathed out on dry lips, before I lost my nerve.
His pupils expanded, eyes widening with surprise.
Black nails grabbed my thighs and wrenched them open, hard enough to bruise.
