Then, with a shove that sent me sprawling to the floor, before I could scramble to my feet, he turned, seized Eoin by the collar, and yanked him upright like a rag doll.
Eoin whimpered beneath Balthazar’s grip, tears streaking his pale cheeks. “Please… I didn’t know—please don’t hurt me. I didn’t know she was taken.”
Taken.
Balthazar let out a snarl that sounded more beast than man. In a flash, his dagger gleamed in the dim light—then sank deep into Eoin’s throat. Blood sprayed like wine, warm and vivid, painting the floor in a tribute. Eoin gurgled once, then collapsed in a crumpled, twitching heap.
Screams erupted. Prostitutes scattered. Patrons fled in chaos.
But I stood still—heart racing, breath catching—not in fear, but euphoria. My monster had come for me. My beautiful, violent love had found me. And now, with blood on the floor and rage in his eyes, we were equals.
Balthazar stood in the center of the room like a god dethroned—his composure shattered, his fury laid bare. His chest heaved. His hands trembled. His eyes—usually so sharp and calculating—were wild, haunted, and beautiful.
I moved toward him, barefoot and brazen. Emboldened. Hungry.
“I’m not scared of you,” I said as I closed the distance between us. “I know what you are. I know you could end me with a whisper. And I’d still crawl to you.” I ran my fingers down his blood-slick arm, feeling the tremble in his body. “You’re my monster, Balthazar. And I love every ruined, savage piece of you.”
He stared at me like I’d just split the world open.
Then, with a guttural sound torn from his throat, he grabbed me, fierce and desperate, and pulled me against him. His forehead slammed into mine, and for a moment, we just breathed, the worldcrumbling around us. His scent—iron, leather, fury—wrapped around me like a drug.
“You shouldn’t love me,” he rasped, voice ragged. “You should run.”
“I don’t want safe,” I whispered. “I wantyou.”
He kissed me then, not gently, not sweetly, but like he needed to devour me to survive. His hands tangled in my hair, tugging hard, his lips punishing and possessive. I moaned into his mouth, reveling in the chaos. Blood still dripped from his dagger. My thighs clenched.
When he finally pulled back, his fingers trailed along my cheek, almost reverently. Something in his touch felt worshipful, broken, andmine.
“Thank you,” he whispered, the words barely audible.
I smiled, leaned in, and dragged my tongue along the sharp line of his jaw, tasting blood and salt and the chaos of him. The tension that once sparked like a live wire between us had softened into something deeper. Something magnetic. We were no longer separate souls. We were pieces of a shared hunger, colliding like stars, bound in a dance that could only end in ruin—or eternity.
But peace was never ours to keep.
A tremor rippled through the air, thick with dread. Balthazar’s hand clamped around my jaw, yanking me forward. His mouth crashed onto mine with punishing force, his kiss all teeth and fury, his breath scorching against my lips. I wrapped myself around him, grinding against his hard body, aching for more—for all of him.
Then half of his body began to change.
I gasped and stumbled back as his skin split open like overripe fruit, peeling in jagged lines down his arms and chest. Beneath, his form twisted—bone gleaming, sinew tightening over muscle, his transformation grotesque and divine. Veins throbbed like pulsing rivers of blood. His eyes, once dark, now burned with an infernal glow, and his grin revealed razor-sharp teeth, monstrous and erotic all at once.
Maggots slithered from the wounds in his flesh, like some ancient corruption was being born again beneath his skin. He let out a guttural cry—half agony, half godhood—that made the ground quake beneath my feet. And still, I wanted him.
Still, I loved him.
My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at him, bare and terrible and beautiful in his grotesque glory. I stepped forward, breathless, defiant.
“I love you, Lord Balthazar,” I cried, voice thick with lust and madness. “With all my wicked, ruined heart.”
His eyes flickered with something human—something lost. “How can you say that?” he roared, slamming his fists into his bloody chest. Gore splattered across the floorboards, staining the room with death and devotion. “Lookat me!”
“Iamlooking,” I whispered, as the heat of his breath seared my skin. I arched backward, sweat dripping down my spine, my nipples peaking from the sudden flush of heat.
I shielded my face from the furnace of his breath, but I wouldn’t turn away.
“I wish the world were dark,” I murmured, quivering with desire and desperation. “Because we don’t have to pretend we’re not monsters in the dark. We could rule it all… together.”
The air between us pulsed—thick with want, with something electric and unholy. Our eyes locked in a devouring dance, tension that felt like lightning had taken root beneath my skin. There was no going back now. We would meet whatever awaited in the darkness ahead—pain, pleasure, ruin—together.
