But her fingers still slip, unable to keep a solid grip on my arm through my shirt. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she jumps again. Her tiny claws dig into the meat of my bicep, and her legs wrap around my waist, rendering me unable to even think. As many times as I've imagined her lush thighs cradling my hips, the fantasy of it could never compare to the real thing, even if it's only in anger.
For a split second, I'm frozen, staring down at her furious form as she tries to drag me down to the floor with her, her hips wiggling and hands yanking at my arm, muttering all the while. "You motherfucker." She pants, "I'll fucking kill you."
A wicked chuckle rumbles my chest, "Go ahead. Give it your best shot, Isla."
She stares at me, seeing the challenge in my eyes, the dare I desperately hope she'll take. I raise the speaker higher, making her grip come undone, and she lands hard on her feet, scrambling to regain balance. She stares at me, both of us waiting to see if the other will attack first. She heaves a hard breath, arms dropping to her sides in defeat. Disappointment flares in my chest. Ineedher to fight me, to hate me even, because at least then she'll be doingsomethingbesides letting the days pass her by.
Slowly, eyes locked on hers, I lower the speaker to the floor, watching her every panting breath and furious twitch of her fingers as she folds her arms.
Then I strike with all the speed I can muster, wrapping a hand around her throat and slamming us both against the wall. A small shriek leaves her throat, the noise sending shockwaves of pleasure through my spine. Body pressed tightly to hers, I run my nose gently down hers, the softness of the touch at odds with the rough way I've possessed her body. "Next time you make a threat, you'd better be ready to follow through, little hunter."
"Oh, bite me," she punctuates the insult with a sneer even past the pressure on her throat, shoving at my chest as if she could actually push me off of her— as if she actually wants me anywhere but right fucking here.
"Don't tempt me, Isla." The overwhelming scent of her sweetness, her arousal growing against her will, makes my head fuzzy, and I lick a stripe up her carotid artery before issuing my last warning. "It's just you and me out here, and if I want to turnyou into my little blood-bag cum-slut, I fucking will. Grind that cunt against me again, and I'll stuff it full of cock so fast you won't have time to breathe, much less fight me off."
Against her will, images of me pounding into her body while she screams and fights against the pleasure, begging me for mercy even while she comes sobbing, fill her head. Her cheeks and ears redden further, and she freezes, unable to do anything lest she force me to make good on the promise I've just issued.
"You wouldn't dare." The three words are so deathly quiet I almost miss them, but the challenge in them drives my heart rate higher.
Keeping my hand locked around her neck, I bring the other down from the wall and drag it roughly down her side, slowly mapping every inch from where her full tits are pressed against me, all the way down the small of her waist and the full curve of her hip. Gripping her perfect ass with enough force to make her whimper, I rub the very hard proof of my desire against her lower abdomen. Her eyes flutter, and her breath hitches in her throat, lust and rage turning her features into a painting of gorgeous frustration.
"Believe me, little hunter," I whisper into her ear. "I would absolutely dare tobite you, fuck you into oblivion, and leave us both sated, coated in sweat and that delicious blood that I can hear pumping furiously through your veins."
"So why don't you?" she scoffs.
It's another challenge, and one my cock is weeping at the chance to take, but I came here to do one thing, and it's not this. Swallowing down a groan, I gently release her, stepping away and turning to storm out of the room.
"Coward." Her humor-laced voice reaches my ears and gives me a half-second pause, nearly stumbling over myself. If anyone knows how to push my goddamn buttons, it's this little woman,but I need to get the fuck away from her before I do something foolish.
With a slam of her door behind me, we both know she's won this round, but I don't fucking care because the second I've taken a few steps away, music finally starts blaring from the other side of the wall. A small smile lifts one corner of my mouth. I might be pissed— and hard— as hell, but I did exactly what I set out to do, even if it took a turn that almost couldn't be corrected.
Halfway down the hall, the idea finally hits me.
While it's definitely not the best idea I've ever had, it's something.
Maybe putting more weaponry in Isla's hands is going to be a mistake, but eventually, I am going to have to send her home. And even if, by some miracle, The Sanctus Sculitis have been taken care of for the time being, she's still going to be a woman living alone with no survival skills and all the rage.
If I don't hone those killer instincts into something useful, she'll find herself in a dangerous situation with no way out.
She'd make an incredible part of the team.
I shake the thought away as quickly as it comes. She's too valuable for the Sanctus to ever put her in their line of sight. No matter how small they become, there will always be those who follow, those who would happily bleed her dry and fill her body with kids against her will.
I won't use her against them, no matter the possible repercussions of that choice.
But I can still train her, make sure she's ready in case they do eventually come knocking.
A plan forms in my mind, starting with basic combat training.
Conditioning.Fuck, I'll have to go get a treadmill.I hold in a chuckle, knowing how livid Isla will be that I'm going to make her run every day on top of everything else.
After she masters all that, she can start playing with the weapons.
Visions of Isla twisting and twirling, stabbing enemies and slashing through them, coating herself in their blood, make my body heat, and I shake my head, trying to rid it of the sickening, delicious thoughts running rampant.
Isla holding a dangerous weapon is the most potent turn-on I've ever had in my nearly 100 years. I knew she would be detrimental to me the second she pointed a gun at me, and my cock stiffened, begging for a bullet like some sick masochist. I've always enjoyed doling out pain; never did I think I'd be craving someone to inflict it on me just as badly.
But I know I cannothave her. Because if I make the mistake of sleeping with Isla, of giving into this maddening tension and all the violence that will come with it, I'llneverrecover from her. And her cool, detached demeanor will drive me to the point of actual insanity. I'll ruin everything I've set out to do over one mercurial, infuriating person.
