Page 3

I love you.

“我爱你.2 我爱你. 我爱你,” I whisper to the moon.

I love you.

我爱你.

1 Bǎobèi: Baby, a term of endearment for a treasured person, like a boyfriend, girlfriend, or child. It literally means “precious object” or “treasure” in Chinese.

2 我爱你 : I love you in Mandarin Chinese.

Present day, Shanghai

Dash and Tian

I press my lips against his ear. “Why can’t you just die like a normal person, you piece of shit,” I grit out.

He sighs, making a strangled sound like he’s in pain. He must be. I’ve been making him bleed for the last four hours while he’s been dangling from the ceiling. His white dress shirt is ripped open, revealing his chest, covered in open wounds inflicted by yours truly.

“Believe me,” he says, coughing up blood. “I’m trying, babe.” Sweat drips down the side of his face, and his eyes start to droop like he’s seconds away from losing consciousness.

I grab a bottle near the bed throwing the ice-cold water in his face. “Don’t you dare pass the fuck out, Tian! You’re the one that abducted and drugged me first!”

His eyes fly open on a gasp. “That’s what you get for coming back to Shanghai after disappearing for months, Dash,” he tells me, drawing out every single word. I flip him off, and he smirks. He knows how much I hate the nickname.

Water drips down the corner of his mouth, mixing with the blood pouring out from the cut on the bridge of his nose. “You got me good this time,” he says, sounding proud, his voice shaking as his drenched white shirt turns see-through revealing the rest of the lines of his tattoos underneath. The chains rattle as he swings back and forth, his feet barely touching the ground. He’s panting as a half-smile curls up his lips. “That’s what you want isn’t it, to see how much I’ll bleed for you?”

“Fuck you, asshole.” A heavy beat passes while he stares at me.

“Give me a minute, I’m a little tied up at the moment.” He scowls as his eyes dart around his bedroom, probably calculating his escape.

My eyes slide from his bare feet all the way up his body to stop and stare at his face, looking at the cuts and purple bruises. The corner of my mouth lifts up in a smile. I really did a good job stringing him up. The way the black ropes dig into his wrists, along with the cuffs, and the metal chains holding him up to the ceiling. It’s one of my best works I must say, giving myself a tap on the shoulder.

“You’re not walking out of this room alive,” I spit out. He chuckles in response, that deep sound tearing my heart wide open.

Searching my eyes for something I can never give again, he exhales a trembling breath. “I haven’t been alive these last few years without you beside me. But if you ask nicely, I’ll fuck you one last time so you can bring me back to life for a split second,” he moans. His mouth parts while his chest heaves with anticipation. Sick bastard, he’s getting off on this.

“Once the feeling in my hands returns, you’re mine. I might not be walking out of here, so I’ll make sure you’ll be the one crawling. Remember the good times we once had?” He laughs, coughing up more blood that slowly drips down from his neck to his tattooed chest.

“Is that a threat?” I ask, lifting my brow as a dare, but I can’t hide the quiver from my voice. Fuck, why does he keep having this effect on me?

“A promise,” he counters, already a little out of breath. He’s definitely turned on, the bulge pressing against the zipper of his tactical pants gives him away. Long black hair falls in front of his dark gaze. “You really like to watch me bleed, don’t you?” he asks in Mandarin, groaning long and deep.

“No,” I tell him, my voice still a little shaky. I take my phone out of my back pocket, stalling for time. Fuck, still no message from my best friend Eliot.

Tian’s dark eyes dart from the phone up to mine as he starts to pout. “This used to be the other way around, remember? I know a little non-con doesn’t hurt anyone. If you cut me loose, you can suffocate me with your cunt like you used to,” he says, waggling his brows.

“Don’t cross the line,” I warn, my voice sounding dark.

“Don’t play games you can’t win,” he huskily growls.

“Who says I’m not winning?” I spur him on, throwing my phone on the dresser. I need to keep him talking to give El more time to deal with my brother.

“Why don’t you cut me right open and take a look inside while you’re at it?” he spits out, fighting against the restraints.

The man has a point, I think, as I stare at my handywork. I really want to see how far I can take it until we reach the end.

He starts to swing back and forth. “I know you want to.” He stills. “I know you want to hit me again,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching.