She sighed. “It is what it is, dark angel.”
I scowled. “What did you just call me?”
She shrugged. “You’re my dark angel. My monster. You’re light and dark, evil and good. And you’re mine.”
“There ain’t no good or light inside of me,” I gritted.
“There is. I’ve seen it.”
She said it with such certainty, such calm, that my heart stuttered in my chest. Not out of love or any of that bullshit, but out of confusion. Where the fuck was she getting that from? Why was she so calm? She was staring death in the face and calling it her dark angel like that was normal.
“Would it help if I said I was sorry?” I asked, because I was. I didn’t want to do it. But it was a necessary evil to protect those that I held dearest to me.
“No,” she replied bluntly. She took a step toward me and I nodded in agreement.
She glanced behind me to the hallway, her almost perfect façade cracking just enough for me to see her fear seeping in the edges. Her fear made my cock harden, the flush in her cheeks, the way her eyes widened, panic seizing her chest. It was sick—I was sick—but I’d accepted who I was a long time ago so I wouldn’t apologize for my dark tastes.
She awakened the beast inside of me.
“You wanna run?” I asked, taking a step to the side, a sick fucking smile on my face. “You wanna see how far you get, Penny?”
She put her hands on her hips, her chest rising and falling.
I held the knife up, placing the tip against my chest and digging it in just enough to draw a slither of blood before smearing it down myself. I knew she’d run as soon as she saw the blood. I’d seen that fear on men and women before and I knew everyone’s breaking point. The part where they realized their inevitability.
She ran, a flurry of arms and legs, long hair, and a flash of golden eyes as she attempted to duck under my arm. I reached for her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her back around. I threw her against the wall, hearing the smack of her cheek and her grunt of pain. I pinned her to the wall, my front pressed to her back, my knees holding her in place. One hand above her head holding the knife and the other holding her arm flat against the wall.
Fuck, she smelled good. So fucking good. I breathed her in, taking in enough of her to last a lifetime.
“I hate you,” she gritted.
“Think I give a fuck?”
“Yes, you do. I saw it in you,” she said desperately, her words coming out choked and panicked.
I chuckled, the dark monster inside me unfurling and coming to the surface. “Is that so?”
“Yes!” She was close to crying then, and god, the fear in her voice made my balls ache.
“Scream for me, Penny,” I whispered in her ear, bringing the tip of the knife down to her throat.
“Fuck you,” she whimpered.
Death was always imminent.
A breath away from every action.
Every decision.
Good or bad.
Right or wrong.
Evil or pure.
Only moments mattered, only the consequences, not the actions.
I kissed the back of her neck. “For the record, I am sorry.”
