His eyes stay locked on mine as he lifts his hand, deliberate, and contentious. The way he watches me when he brings his fingers to his mouth does something twisted to my stomach. Slow and intentional. Like he wants me to see him lick the mix of blood and cum from his fingers.
“So fucking sweet. And the best part, was you were allmine,” he says quietly. “Though every fucking second of it.”
Heat curls low in my gut all over again.
Before I can mouth off, his hand comes up around my throat—not tight, just enough to remind me who I belong to in this moment as his lips crash on to mine. Rough. Hungry, and cut short on purpose.
“Remember that,” he mutters against my mouth. “Because you’re not done being chased yet.”
Kross’s gaze slides past my shoulder, and the air around us changes.
Not softer, but sharper.
The kind of shift you feel in your chest before your brain catches up. Like a door closing somewhere behind you and you jump.
His attention isn’t on me anymore.
It’s on whoever just stepped into our space.
I can feel it before I see him—the weight of another presence, colder than Kross, steadier. Less heat, but more pressure. Kross’s mouth tilts slowly into a satisfied smirk.
Then he looks at me again, eyes bright, dangerous.
“Found you,” he murmurs.
I turn, and my brain stutters as I come face to face with the second cupid killer.
But this time, there's no mask on his face.
Dark hair, cut clean and sharp, not wild like Kross’s. Same face, but not. Same bone structure, same mouth, same eyes, but stripped of the heat and replaced with something harder. Colder. Like looking at the same man through a different lens.
My stomach drops.
Jesus fuck, they’re twins.
It hits me all at once and completely fucks my sense of balance. I’ve never seen something like this before—two versionsof the same problem standing right in front of me, one smirking, one quiet and deadly, both doing obscene things to my body with nothing but a look. I just…stare for a second, brain fully buffering.
Kross shifts behind me, satisfied, watching the way my pulse jumps when the second twin enters the space. I feel it immediately—the difference between them. Where one burns hot and reckless, this one is pure control stretched tight to the breaking point.
Kade’s mouth tilts, just barely. Not a smile. More like a warning.
“Looks like my brother worked some things out,” he says calmly, like this is no big deal at all. His eyes slide back to me. “Which leaves me.”
My stomach flips, slow and heavy, like my body’s already a step ahead of my brain.
He leans in, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, voice dropping until it’s just for me. “And after the shit I’ve been dealt tonight,” he murmurs, “I’ve got a lot of fucking frustration I need to let out.”
His eyes lock on mine, unblinking. Possessive. Certain. Like he already knows how this ends.
“So you’re going to run,” he continues easily, like he’s spelling out something painfully obvious. “You’re going to run fast. Because if I’m chasing you through this crowd, you better make it worth my fucking time.” A faint, dangerous smile pulls at his mouth. “Don’t make the catch boring.”
My breath stutters, excitement crawling up my spine in a way I’m absolutely not embarrassed about.
“But don’t get cocky,” he adds, brushing past me just enough to make it intentional. A warning wrapped in a promise. “Iwillfucking catch you.”
He straightens, calm as ever, sliding the mask back over his face. The blade flashes as he pulls it free and flicks it open, casual like it’s just another accessory.
“And when I do,” he says quietly, “I’m not going to be gentle.” He tilts his head, voice low and lethal. “Now run, little valentine.”
