Whatever control I had left was being ripped apart, shredded to tiny pieces as I fell into the fantasy.
“Anyone who looks at you will know you’re mine,” I growled. “Say it.”
“Everyone would know I’m yours.” She arched into me, voice a husky, breathy promise.
Her body moved against my hand.
Rolling.
Squirming.
She wouldn’t just let me fuck her here—shewantedto be fucked here. A wild, animalistic urge rippled through my muscles. I could take her here. Take her and never fucking let her go. She would be mine?—
Fuck.
The last shred of sanity screamed in my veins.Stop.I had tostop.
Gemma Crownecouldn’tbe mine. Forget her world and mine were diametrically opposed. Forget that protecting her would be infinitely harder once everyone knew her, that everyone would want her dead, that she would fucking relish it too.
There might come a time when I’d have to choose between her and the Horsemen, between her and my fucking family.
I already knew who I would choose.
Andthatwas the problem.
So as Gemma Crowne collapsed around my fingers, nails biting my neck, her moan muffled againstmy throat in a vibration I would never forget, my words disappeared into a snarl. “You will never be mine.”
It felt like ripping a knife from my abdomen as I pulled my fingers out of her. It wasn’t right.
I belonged there.
I forced my features into stone, meeting her eyes with a glare. “You’ll never wear my mark.”
My fingers were fucking drenched with her. My perfect fucking princess and her perfect cunt. I couldn’t resist the chance to taste her. Just one last time.
Something like hurt flashed across her face as I slid her taste into my mouth, but it was quickly smothered, replaced by ice.
God, she tasted sofuckinggood.
Too good.
I stepped back, ready to leave and put distance between this destructive need, when cool metal hit my neck.
Gemma had grabbed my discarded knife, now holding it flush against my skin. Her legs tightened around my waist, forcing me closer to the knife. One wrong move and my neck would open.
And fuck if that didn’t get me hard.
I covered her hand with mine, gripping the handle, and pressed the knife deeper against my flesh.
“You’re in the wrong spot,” I said. “You’re gonna wanna start here, and drag it here.” I dragged her hand slowly across my neck, knife scraping.
She licked her lips.
Pupils dilated, she arched into me. “If I can’t wear your mark, then you’ll wearmine.”
Gemma slammed her lips into mine, scoring my bottom lip with her teeth.
TWENTY-EIGHT
