“Try to avoid my kidneys,” I say with a manufactured sigh of boredom. Any hint of arousal I was feeling flees as I realize that Max will just present me with more of the same. More pain, more torture, more harm. He’s just like every other man I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.
His brows slam down. “What?”
“When you whip me,” I clarify. “Unless you want to pay for a hospital trip to clear up some internal bleeding, that is.” A frown flits over my face. “Or you’re planning on killing me.” I meet his eyes. “Are you planning on killing me?”
Fuck, I hope not. Not for my sake—I’ve known that my life is forfeit for a long time—but my life isn’t the only one at stake.
Though, I suppose Dagon never clarified if he’d break our deal should I die in a freak accident—such as after getting kidnapped right out from under his nose. Maybe he’d show leniency.
Except that fucking demon doesn’t know the meaning of leniency, or mercy. He only knows cruelty.
“No, Ember,” Max says slowly. There’s sadness in his words. “I’m not going to kill you. I’dneverkill you.”
“Then what are you planning on doing?”
His gaze hardens. “I’m going to claim you.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“We’ll talk more about it later, once we’re to safety.”
“We?” I repeat with a shrill laugh. “There is nowe. In case I haven’t made it clear, my current objective is to tear your head off your shoulders.”
“I have a thick neck. You might need a chainsaw to complete your objective.”
“A thickhead, too, since you’re joking with me.” I glare up at him. “I’ve killed men twice your size.”
“Have you?” he sounds vaguely interested. “What got you into this line of work?”
I drop my gaze. “A debt.”
“Oh? What did you do to become indebted to Dagon?”
I seal my lips. This Q&A has gone on long enough. I’ve given him fair warning; he’s a fool if he doesn’t heed it.
Usually, I prefer it when my marks underestimate me and don’t see me coming. It makes the kill easier, but also unsatisfying. But my job isn’t to find satisfaction in killing—it’s just to kill. Be a cold-hearted assassin.
Become Dagon’s perfect little wife.
I’ve had some intentional fuckups the last few months to prove to him I’m not ready. Because if and when I become ready, he might actually make good on his threats. And oncethathappens… I shudder at the thought of it.
“No answer?” Max mocks. “Come on, Flame. You’re breaking my heart. We ought to be catching up like two old friends, don’t you think?”
“I have no idea who you are,” I remind him, because apparently, the idiot needs a reminder. “We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything.”
“Maybe we aren’t anything rightnow, but we’re fucking about to be.” He wraps his hand around my neck and uses the leverage to tilt up my chin. “From this moment on, you have no tie to Dagon. Consideryour debt cleared. You will not be seeing him, ever again. Instead, you can focus your newfound spare time on me.” He offers me a smile with a sinister slant.
“No.” The word comes out coated in too much fear for me to handle. “You don’t understand, Ihaveto go back to him. Ihaveto—”
His hand tightens. Heat curls through my body, and nausea simultaneously rises in my esophagus. “No, you do not.”
For the first time in years—years, tears prickle at my eyes. Not for myself, but for the innocent I’m protecting. If I fail, she pays the price, and she is the only person left alive that I love. “Max, I don’t recall you, but if you haveanyregard for me, youhaveto send me back.” I fight back the tears. “Please.”
This gives him pause, even as his eyes narrow. “What does Dagon have on you?” he asks suddenly.
I feel like he’s just punched me in the solar plexus. “W-what?”
“It must be something,” Max goes on. His thumb strokes over my pulse. “Your eyes flash with disgust each time you say his name or reference him, but you’re desperate to get back. So, he must have something on you. What is it?”
