I cross my arms, trying to look unimpressed, despite the way my brain has fully scrambled by now.
“Confidence, huh?” I drawl. “And what exactly would you be doing with all that confidence if I weren’t dead?”
His smirk stretches. “A lot of things.”
“That’s vague.”
“Oh, really?” He tilts his head. “You think you could handle more? Because considering the way you were scared to look into my soul last night, I’d say you couldn’t even handle half of it.”
The feeling in my stomach—that stupid, traitorous, thrilling thing—returns. The one that makes my pulse spike next to him and the others.
It’s both sweet and sour at the same time.
Sweet, because it feels good.
Sour, because I know it’ll kill me all over again.
I want to be touched. And not being touched? That hurts worse than anything.
“I think I'm turning into something else,” I tell him. “I think you've done something to me that's making me lose my grip.”
Nathaniel pauses, tilting his head like a predator sizing up its prey. The air around him shifts—sharper, heavier. And then he steps closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, like he's about to ruin me. Yes. Inthoseways.
“Do you know why none of us have a woman, Skye?” His gaze pins me in place, dark and consuming. “Because most people can't handle what we are. Because just like you saw inside my soul, we're all starved for something we’ll never have. So forgive me for wanting to make you lose your grip even more. Because as much as I’m a murderer, I’m also a man.”
His lips quirk, something dangerous and knowing lurking beneath the words.
“And that man sees a beautiful, broken woman who’s just like him—and he wants to fuck her into oblivion, even though he can’t. So all he can do is tease.”
My breath catches. My brain… it’s surely leaking out of my ear. My soul might have just left my body.
For a moment, I’m stuck between two very different instincts:
One: Run.
Two: Find out what oblivion feels like.
His stare locks onto mine, and I swear he knows. Knows exactly what he’s doing. Knows exactly how much I want to let him keep doing it.
“Careful,” I warn, but my voice comes out way less threatening than I’d like. “This… This is dangerous.”
More like a breathy, high-stakes ‘oh no, he’s hot’ kind of warning.
Nathaniel grins—slow, sharp, savoring.
Oh, I’m so fucked.
“Danger’s all I know, Skye,” he murmurs. “And I’m not afraid to dance on the edge—especially when the view’s this tempting.”
My hands tremble slightly as I cross them tighter. I open my mouth, prepared to push him away, but the words die on my tongue when he steps forward just enough to close the gap between us, his breath warm against my ear.
“I want to try touching you, Skye,” he murmurs.
“You really think I’ll let you?”
His smirk deepens, sinful and so damn cocky it should be illegal.
“I think you want it even more than I do,” he says. “I think you've never had any real fun while alive. You’ve been waiting for someone like me to show you what it feels like to lose control, but that person never came.”
