Page 24

My name. Inked over his heart.

Alarms should have been blaring. They weren’t. Instead of scrambling for the door, I reached out and traced the letters with shaking, bloody fingers, and felt his chest heave beneath my touch.

I did this to him.

My Omega didn’t flinch. She purred.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to the ink.

He made a low, ragged sound, cracking through the mask. My hand slid lower, and I found the silver bar through his nipple and tugged. His breath stuttered. Something hard pressed against my stomach. I found the other piercing and tugged that too. This time he groaned, but still didn’t move.

And that made me brave. Every bit of common sense packed up and left.

I skimmed my hands down his abs and hooked my fingers in his waistband. They trembled as I dragged his pants down, and then I had to lean back because something thick sprang free, bobbed, and slapped against his stomach.

“My God,” I whispered.

“That’s me.” The modulator couldn’t hide his smugness.

I glanced up at the mask. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was grinning. I couldn’t even roll my eyes, because his cock demanded my full attention. Metal glinted at the tip. I’d read about piercings like this in my books, but I’d never seen one in person. I trailed a finger down the underside and found bar after bar, a ladder of steel, until he thickened toward the base. Toward his knot. He was huge. I wondered if it would hurt.

I was surprised to find I didn’t care if it did.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he rasped. “If you keep touching me like that, I won’t last.”

But you’re still not moving.

What’ll it take for him to crack?

So I wrapped my hand around him and held eye contact as I leaned in and took his nipple between my teeth. He cursed, and I flicked flesh and metal with my tongue as I swiped my finger across his tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum, and let his nipple go with a pop. His hand fisted my hair, not pulling, just holding on.

Then I shoved him backward.

He fell back onto his ass with a wet squelch. Rhett’s blood. It soaked into his pants and smeared across the concrete, but none of it was what had my insides twisting. Even as Rhett’s last few breaths rattled in his chest. It was the mask, the ink, my name over his heart, and his reactions to me. He was beautiful, terrifying in a ruin me and maybe kill me later kind of way. Except I knew he wouldn’t.

I laughed. I actually laughed, kneeling in blood. He tilted his head.

“Have you been a good girl this year?” he asked.

I leaned forward. “You’ve been watching me,” I breathed. “Shouldn’t you already know?”

“Are you angry, little lamb?” he asked, breathless as he watched me crawl to him. Blood soaked into my sweater, but I didn’t care.

“I should be.”

“But you’re not.”

“No.”

A low, pleased rumble vibrated in his chest. My Omega practically melted.

“Why the mask?” I asked.

“We all wear one.”

“We?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about them,” he growled. “You have me all to yourself. What’ll you do with me?”