Page 217 of Sinister

But as my thoughts continue to churn, it dawns on me that this isn’t the first time he’s exhibited similar inclinations. The first time he ripped the veil from my face . . . he did it because he wanted me to fight him, didn’t he? And the time he bartered for a kiss—he liked my reluctance.

He enjoyed it so much that he pushed the limits as far as he could.

And then there are the dreams—ones that walk a very thin line between consent and coercion. So many things happened between us in those moments that, if they had taken place under normal circumstances, I don’t know if they would have happened the same way.

Yet, I find that I don’t judge him for his requests. I don’t judge him for his behavior, because deep down, I can see where it’s coming from.

He still thinks he’s undeserving, doesn’t he?

He believes nothing will ever be given to him freely—not without something in exchange, not without him forcing the hand. That he’s not worthy of being given anything at all, so he can only take.

Well, if this is how he wants it to go, then I’ll indulge him—and hope that my submission shows him he can always take from me, and I will always give back.

One last look into his eyes, and I turn on my feet, dashing through the winding hallway of the subterranean home.

I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t even know how big this house is. Yet it’s the sound of sliding footsteps behind me that makes my heart race—and makes me curious to see where this is going.

Immediately, I know he’s not using his shadows to move around. He’s running after me.

Simply a man chasing his woman.

Am I disturbed for getting a thrill out of this? For loving the way I can’t predict what comes next—whether he’ll pounce on me in the next second, or whether I’ll get another few feet of distance before he does?

I don’t know. And that only makes it more exciting.

I run as fast as I can, looking for a place to hide. He’s behind me but not running at full speed, taunting me. Just as I turn the corner into what seems to be a bedroom, I find myself tackled to the ground.

He pounces on me, grabbing me midair and turning so that he bears the brunt of the fall as I crash atop him.

His skin is hot against mine, every inch of him pulsing with tension. He holds me tightly, as though letting go would undo him entirely.

Immediately, his mouth goes to my neck, and he bites the sensitive skin. I press my hands against his shoulders, pushing him aside, but that only serves to make him tighten his hold over me.

I struggle to get out and thrash from side to side, not knowing what’s going to happen. Yet at the same time, I feel completely safe in his arms.

His bite becomes more painful, and a pang of desire courses through me. I let out a deep moan as I arch under him, inviting him to take more.

He drags his teeth down my collarbone and to my breasts, where he once again wraps his lips against my flesh, biting so hard he draws blood. I shiver, the pain mingling with all those other foreign emotions forming inside me.

“So sweet,” he whispers against my skin. “You taste so sweet, my darling Petra. And you’re all mine.”

He continues his assault down my body until he reaches that private place between my legs.

I open wide for him, not caring about anything else in the world but his touch.

“Please,” I whisper. Yet he doesn’t do anything. He stares at me, needy and thrashing on the floor, as I wait for him to put me out of my misery.

“Beg,” he says. “Beg me, Petra.”

“What?” I whisper.

“Beg me to taste you. Beg me to pleasure you.”

I blink, a little unsure of myself, yet I see that if I don’t say anything, he won’t do it. He won’t do anything.

“Please, Sin,” I start. “Please, touch me. I’m begging you. Please.” I thrust my pelvis upward in an attempt to get closer to him, to get some relief from this hunger that’s developed inside of me.

He chuckles. “Where do you want me to touch you? Tell me, Petra.”