The ice wasn’t for me, that much I knew.
The man behind him was blubbering, praying for mercy through his gag. It was funny that Collin would talk to him andexpect the man to reply around a mouth full of cloth. The hitman closed the space between us and gripped my chin with his tattooed fingers, sending a chill down my spine. His handsome face was set in stone, cold and unwavering just like his eyes.
But it was his voice that had a hint of warmth meant only for me. “Are you sure you want to watch this?”
I swallowed. “I have seen you kill before,” I whispered as he leaned down.
His eyes held mine. “Angel, you've never seen me torture a man before,” he murmured. “And he will feel every ounce of pain he caused you and more.”
I nodded. “I need to see this. I need to see him die, Col.” Maybe then, I would stop seeing him in my dreams.
“As you wish.”
He spun, punching my rapist in the jaw. Once. Twice. Three times. I saw a flash of metal and then heard a grunt of pain. Collin rounded the chair.
“As I said, Mr. Danes, we have a very busy schedule. We shouldn’t even be here, but you decided to touch something that belongs tome,” he growled near the man’s ear before yanking the gag out of his mouth.
He gasped for air, coughing, spitting up blood. “It was one time! Years ago! You should have gotten over it,” he spat, looking at me, but I kept my eyes on Col.
“I am going to enjoy this,” my demon growled, making my skin pebble with goosebumps. I watched as he yanked the man back by his hair and inch his blade into the man’s right eye. His screams alone should have made me recoil and hide.
But I didn’t.
I watched my demon, my Col, as he brought the man near death. A strange feeling bloomed in my chest. If I didn’t love Collin already, I would love him now.
Nothing would be able to stop the fall.
He was doing this forme.
He had an empire to take over, and yet, he was here, avenging me.
The sight of the bloodshed should have turned my stomach.
The snarl on his face as he looked down at his victim should have made me cower in fear.
The thirst for blood should have made me run.
The cold, dark gleam in his eyes should have made me hate him.
His darkness deserved to be hated.
He betrayed me—us, our friends.
He stabbed my brother.
He was the enemy.
He was a killer.
He was Death.
And yet?
I’d fallen hopelessly in love with him. There was no going back. I knew that from the moment he kissed me. With each stroke of his blade against my tormentor’s flesh, the deeper I fell.
He cherished me.
He vowed to protect me.
