Billy struggling with a woman on the floor beneath him. My angry eyes sweep down his back, his huge body consuming herand between her legs. I quietly enter, digging into my pocket before closing the door behind me. They don’t notice I’m here. As my wide eyes assess the situation, I creep forward, bit by bit noticing who the fuck he’s trying to rape.
Kitten.
Her legs kick against the ground, heels scraping uselessly, her face hidden beneath his huge hand, her voice swallowed in muffled cries.
His other hand fumbles with his belt and she’s struggling with everything she has, clawing at his face. But he’s no match to her size. I notice her ripped panties not too far away and her panic button across the room just as I stop behind them. Anger surges through me like the last time I killed, the darkness seeping through my veins.
With the razor blade between my fingers, I lean over grabbing his dark hair and forcefully yanking it back, making his neck cracking from the sharp movement. My eyes collide with Raven’s. Red, raw, wet, and filled with pure fear. My hot blood runs cold for a second just as Billy reaches up to grab my hand.
“Shh, my little kitten,” I whisper coldly, my eyes glazed over.
I press the sharp razors edge to his throat and without a second thought, I swiftly slice across it. His blood sprays all over Raven instantly, but she doesn’t make a sound. Her body shakes as she covers her face with her hands. The sight of all the blood does something to me. Something dangerous. Pulling me back to that day, fifteen years ago. I hold his hair tightly, his gurling starting to fade as he tries to hold his open throat.
When Billy's lifeless form slumps fully, I rip him off her, his heavy body rolling to the side with a final thud. Raven immediately scrambles back, her eyes wild and desperate as she pushes against the wall, her gasps shuddering out, her gazelocked on the corpse lying between us. My own inhalation is heavy, syncing with hers in an almost eerie rhythm, and when her gaze finally lifts from Billy to meet mine, we hold that raw, electrified moment.
I step forward slowly, carefully moving around the pool of blood, and she curls inward, wary of me, her whole-body trembling in the aftermath. I kneel in front of her, my eyes tracing over her face. She’s somehow even more beautiful with fear woven into every line of her expression.
My gaze drifts downward to her torn shirt, hanging off her shoulder and revealing the curve of her black lace bra beneath, a hint of her pink nipple peeking through the thin fabric. I can’t deny it: she’s mesmerizing like this. She sees the feral look in my eyes and immediately raises her hands to cover herself.
My fingers twitch with the urge to touch, the sight of her drenched in that dark red liquid pulling me to the edge of losing control, my obsession growing tighter. I’ve always had a thing for blood, but this… This is something fucking else entirely.
Without warning, something in me snaps. My hands reach out faster than any thought, seizing the small of her waist harshly and yanking her toward me in one swift motion. The sound she makes—a sharp, startled squeak—cuts through the small room. Her hands fly up, slamming into my chest in a desperate bid to stop me.
“Ty!” she hisses, her quiet tone trembling.
Her reaction hits me like a shockwave, and I freeze. Then my eyes widen as the reality of what I’m doing slams into me and my hands pull back as if they’re burned.
She moves slowly and cautiously as she presses herself back against the wall again. Her hands tremble slightly, but her eyes remain steady, watching me with the kind of fear that feels like ascalpel cutting into me, dissecting my every move. Is she afraid? Curious? Or something in between? I can’t tell, and the not-knowing coils in my chest like barbed fucking wire. This isn’t me. Not usually. I’m the one who’s always in control, always scheming, keeping the crazy locked beneath the surface. But the sight of her—her skin streaked with blood, her hair matted and wild—did something to me. It struck a match against the darkest parts of me, igniting something primal, something I can’t name but can’t suppress.
“You… you saved me…” she whispers, dragging me out of my thoughts, her voice barely clear over the intense rasp of her breath. Tears carve pale tracks through the blood on her cheeks, and I reach out again, but this time slowly, wanting to touch her in a gentle way, but she flinches back, pressing further into the wall.
“Don’t… don’t touch me,” she mutters. “This… this is a crime scene. You need to go, Ty.”
My brow furrows as I watch her yank off her shirt, her tits jiggling with each movement. She gets on her knees in front of me, her eyes darting between me and Billy’s corpse. But instead of running for her life, she edges closer until I can feel her body heat on mine.
I stare at her carefully as she spits onto a small white bloodless patch of her shirt, then raises it to my face. Her trembling hand dabs away the specks of blood I hadn’t even realized were there. Her touch is so soft that it throws me off. A strange heat spreading to the icy parts of my soul. Every second that ticks by, I gaze at her face, allowing her to wipe away the traces of the murder I just committed, gradually becoming my partner in crime.
Her gaze meets mine now and then until she pauses with the fabric hovering over my skin.
“Why’d you do that? You could have just knocked him out or something.” she asks, her eyes dropping to my lips with an intensity that almost makes my dick hard.
I lift a brow, the act more than natural to me, but even more so now when it comes to her.
“That isn’t even a fraction of what I’d do for you, kitten. He had his hands on what’sfucking mine.
She remains still, mauling over what I just said, thinking carefully until she finally answers.
“Yours?” she breathes out. “I’m not yours, Ty.”
I don’t say anything back. She can think what the fuck she wants for now, but she’ll see in time just how mine she is.
She carefully holds her shaky hand out and my gaze drifts to it.
“Give me the razor blade and go.” My eyes flash to hers and she continues sternly, “I owe you.”
She’s covering for me again. Even after murder?
“Please…” she pleads, her watery eyes scanning mine.
