“Then show me,” she whispers, the words a dare, a challenge, a prayer.
Something inside me snaps. I crush my mouth to hers, all pretense of gentleness gone. The kiss is brutal, punishing, my teeth catching her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. I taste copper and sweetness as my tongue invades her mouth, claiming, conquering.
To my surprise—and dark delight—she kisses me back just as fiercely. Her free hand fists in my hair, pulling hard enough to hurt, her body arching against mine as if she’s trying to climb inside me. It’s not surrender; it’s escalation.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard, pupils blown wide with desire and adrenaline.
“Is that what you wanted?” I ask, voice rough. “To see the monster?”
She licks her lips, tasting her own blood. “That’s just a preview,” she says. “I want all of it. The truth. The real you.”
“Why?” I demand, genuinely baffled by her persistence. “Why push this?”
“Because I’m tired of being lied to,” she says, and there’s something raw in her voice that wasn’t there before. “Because I’m tired of being a fucking afterthought.”
“You’ve never been an afterthought to me,” I insist.
“No?” Her laugh is bitter. “Then why am I always the last to know? Why do I have to find out who Tony is in a fucking bathroom? Why do I have to guess at what game you’re playing?”
Her words cut deeper than they should, finding vulnerabilities I didn’t know I had. “There is no game, Raven. Not with you.”
“Everything’s a game to you,” she spits. “The favors, the Leone Room, the fake relationship—it’s all just pieces on a board.”
I press her harder against the wall, frustration mounting. “You think I cut off a man’s fingers for a game? You think I say I love you as a fucking strategy?”
“I don’t know,” she admits, and for the first time, I see genuine confusion beneath the anger. “That’s the problem. I don’t know which parts are real.”
Her words hit me like a physical blow, the truth in them undeniable. I’ve spent so long compartmentalizing, separating the monster from the man, that I’m not sure where one ends and the other begins anymore.
I loosen my grip on her throat, sliding my hand to cup the back of her neck instead. “All of it,” I tell her, the confession dragged from somewhere deep inside me. “All of it is real.”
Her expression changes. Then, in a move so quick I almost miss it, her hand slips to her thigh-high boot. Before I can react, cold metal presses against my throat, the edge of a blade kissing my skin with deadly promise.
My breath catches, the same jolt of adrenaline felt cutting off that bastard’s fingers roaring back to life. Blood rushes south so fast I feel lightheaded, my cock hardening instantly against her hip.
“Are you trying to turn me on?” I whisper, the words scraped from my throat as the knife presses slightly deeper.
Her eyes widen fractionally, registering my reaction. Her lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile. “No, I’m trying to keep you honest,” she replies, pressing the flat of the blade more firmly against my skin. “No more half-truths. No more games.”
I swallow, feeling the blade move with my throat. “Ask me what you want to know.”
Her gaze travels from my eye to my eyepatch, curiosity mingling with determination in her expression. “Take it off,” she demands. “I want to see what you’re hiding.”
“No,” I decide.
Chapter 32
Raven
My hand holding the knife freezes against his throat, my brain unable to process what he just said.
“No.” Just like that. No consideration or explanation. Just… no.
The rejection hits me like a slap, sending electric jolts through my body as disbelief transforms into something hotter, something that burns deeper than mere surprise.
Betrayal.
“Why?” The word tears from my lungs, echoing through the empty club. I press the knife harder against his throat, close enough to feel his pulse jump beneath the blade. “Why won’t you show me what you really look like?”
