Page 17 of Bound in Ashes

To myself.

I fisted his shirt, the material warm from his skin, and pushed him against the shed.

The wood groaned with his weight, but I knew he’d only moved because he wanted to.

Knew that any control I had was control he gave me.

I hated that.

I loved it.

Pressed my body flush against his, hard against soft, perfect.

Fleeting.

I kissed him again, still desperate but in control.

He let me believe that, too—for exactly ten seconds. Then he gripped my hair roughly.

Held my head in place.

Took back the control I needed like breath and kissed me so deeply, so thoroughly, that all thought fled.

He pulled back just a centimeter, his breath mingling with mine as he whispered, “Asia.”

It was a confession.

A promise.

A warning.

I was in no mood to listen.

I bit his bottom lip hard enough to make him grunt.

Hand still fisted in my hair, he used his other to grip my wrist.

Squeezed until I let out a gasp of my own.

My heart raced. Fear, yes, but something else.

Something darker.

More dangerous.

Proof that even in this mad world where the dead walked, Jackson Thorne would be my undoing.

He pulled back a little farther to look at me.

His eyes were black.

Predatory.

He let out a low growl that sounded like gravel against his throat.

Then he crushed his lips to mine, his tongue invading my mouth.

It wasn’t a kiss.