In the thrill of the fight, I forgot my place. And I definitely forgot about the man lying dead just yards away, simply because he lost too humbly.
“Cersia,” Roman whispers on a chill of a word that I feel spoken fearfully across my skin even with the span of space separating us.
I just harmed the Prince of Hell.
And I am going to die now.
The Prince’s black orbs lift from his slight wound to meet my wide eyes. His chest rises and falls with the effort of our battle still relevant on his face.
I can’t even think in this moment.
The heavy weight of his steps billows clouds of dark smoke around his footfalls, and I’m entranced by the hellish appearance he’s creating all around him. I can’t see anything but this evil man.
He is the last face I’ll ever see before I die.
With one swift move, he brings his arm back, lifting his blade with intent.
Then he tosses it to the side, grabs the back of my neck and drags me against him.
Just as his lips crash down on mine. His kiss consumes the confusion lingering on my tongue, in my chest, in the dark depths of the back of my mind.
It isn’t sweet. It isn’t sexy.
Where his brother kissed me with so much passion, Ravar kisses me with possession. He kisses me like I’m a prop for him to use and abuse, and I know it in the simple way he devours my mouth for his own pleasure. Even as I choke on his tongue.
And he keeps right on going.
My brain catches up, and I force myself to react. I force my hands to push through his slick hair. I pull just hard enough to hear his groan against my mouth.
I react how I know he expects me to.
How everyone expects me to.
But he tastes like rancid ash. He tastes like a tormentor. Like an abuser. Like a killer.
That’s why I kiss him back too.
Because, in the end, that’s exactly why I’m here—to attract a killer.
TWELVE
THE PLOT THICKENS
“You’re brilliant,”Zilo says with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen the brooding man possess.
He’s cute when he smiles. Boyish eyes light up against the brutishly handsome face of a man who’s long forgotten true happiness.
The approval in his features sears through my chest like warm chocolate, and I can’t explain why he has that effect on me with a mere meager amount of acceptance.
Perhaps their puppy training is working and I’m finally preening beneath their simple praise.
The safety of their bedroom holds a long stretch of quiet for a moment.
“Thank you,” I beam at him, and Avian nods along with his normal sweet, sincere smile.
Too bad when I peer over at the third little puppy, he isn’t as kind.
“Could have gotten yourself killed,” Roman spits, his arms folding hard over his bare chest as he looks me up and down.
