She's trembling now, and I realize she's crying again. Silent tears streaming down her face.
"I don't understand," she whispers. "I don't understand any of this."
"You don't have to understand. But you do have to trust me."
"Trust you? You kidnapped me. You shot people. You're going to kill my father."
"Yes." I brush my lips against her forehead. "But I'll also protect you. Give you everything you need. You want to finish school? I'll pay for it. You want to become a dental hygienist? I'll make it happen. You want your mother and sister safe? I'll put them under protection. All you have to do is be mine."
She pulls back to look at me, searching my face for something. I don't know what she's looking for, but more than that, I don't know what she'll find.
"What if I say no?" she asks.
"You won't." The words are almost a whisper thanks to the amount of effort I have to exert to refrain from kissing her.
"How do you know?"
I smile, and I know it's not a kind smile. Not a human smile. "Because you already said yes,milaya. The moment you got in my car. The moment you let me bring you here. You said yes to me, and now you're mine."
She opens her mouth to argue, and I silence her the only way I know how.
I kiss her.
Ava
His mouth is on mine before I can think, before I can breathe, before I can do anything but feel.
The kiss isn't gentle. It's claiming, possessive, brutal in its honesty. His hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back with a surprising gentleness, and his other hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise. He's not asking permission. He's taking.
My hands find his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his expensive shirt, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms, and every thought of pushing him away dissolves.
He tastes like danger and darkness and something addictive I can't name.
When he pulls back, we're both breathing hard. His black eyes are blazing now, no longer empty voids but burning with something that looks almost like hunger.
"You're mine," he says again, and this time it sounds like a vow. Like a promise written on an ancient text.
"I don't—" My voice breaks. "I don't even know you."
"You know enough." His thumb traces my bottom lip, already puffy from his kiss. "You know I'll keep you safe. You know I'll give you what you need. You know that no one will touch you while you're under my protection."
"But what do you want from me?" The question comes out desperate. "You say I'm yours, but what does that mean? What am I supposed to be to you?"
Something shifts in his expression. The hunger is still there, but now there's something else. Something like surprised recognition.
"Everything," he says simply. "I want everything."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "I don't understand."
"Neither do I." He releases me and steps back, running a hand through his hair. It's the first time I've seen him look anything less than perfectly controlled. "I wasn't supposed to want you. You were a job. A means to an end. But the moment I saw you..."
He trails off, turning away to stare out at the Vegas skyline.
"The moment you saw me, what?" I press.
"The moment I saw you, I knew I was fucked." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Fifteen years. Fifteen years of being empty, of feeling nothing, of doing terrible things without remorse. And then you walk into your apartment looking exhausted and scared and so goddamn brave, and suddenly I can't breathe without thinking about you."
I don't know what to say to that. Don't know how to process the fact that the Devil himself just confessed to being…what?...consumed with me.
