Then he was gone.
Staggering backward, he panted hard. His hand slapped over the disc on his heart, bending forward as if it had dosed him with a brutal punch of pain. For a heartbeat, he just stared at me—his lips glistening, chest heaving, pupils blown wide like he was seconds away from throwing me on the ground and fucking me.
Time hung suspended between us.
Gritting his teeth, he stood to his full height, battling agony and weakness, before reaching into his pocket. His eyes shuttered with unreadable curtains, snuffing out the fury, the lust, the yearning.
Tripping into me, he grabbed my hand and smacked the dagger into it before wrapping my fingers tightly around the hilt.
I looked down, dazed and horrified.
The weight of the knife was familiar and dreadfully sharp.
Comprehension slammed back into me.
I went to drop it but he whisper-snarled, “Let go of it and I’ll snap your neck right here.”
My gaze shot to his. “What...what do you expect me to do?”
His gleaming wet lips twisted into a sneer.
He broke the very same heart he’d just kissed half to death as he ordered, “Kill me, of course.”
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