Page 4

Smiling, I draw my fist back and punch him right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his chest.

He coughs, blood flying everywhere. “I guess being obsessed runs in the family, don’t you think?” he says, determined, his eyes getting a glassy shine to them as he wheezes.

It feels like I’m spinning, falling down the rabbit hole that’s him. I chuckle, running my thumb over my dry lips, and stare at my busted-up knuckles, itching to knock him out.

“Hit me or choke me babe, you pick, I like both,” he taunts as he raises a brow like a dare.

I draw my hand back to slap him again when I see his grimace as he starts to choke on his blood. He must have bit down hard on his tongue. “Spit it out,” I order, while he shakes his head as his eyes travel into the back of his head like he’s coming.

I grab his chin to ply his mouth open. Spit and blood drip down his jaw as he leans into me. Fuck, I messed up, I think as he presses his nose against my hair and inhales before licking the line of sweat running down my temple.

I push him away but not fast enough to feel his erection against my stomach. I whip my hand back and slap him again, not able to hide my grin.

His head jerks to the right as he takes a deep breath, his chest heaving. “Good to know you still got it, wife,” he mocks. I hate the look of pure obsession in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” I cry out, trying to hide the emotion in my voice but failing miserably.

Lifting his head, he flashes me a grin. I take one of Eliot’s knives I hid in my waistband and press it against his neck. He arches his back, a moan slipping from his throat. Shit, I forgot he likes the sting. He’s addicted to the rush. Is a part of me still addicted to him too?

“I love it when you turn me on,” he snarls, his eyes fluttering closed, as his body starts to tremble.

He sighs and casts his eyes down, smiling while he’s thrusting his hips, taunting me.

I gasp kneeing him right in the junk. The bastard sneers, his face turning red as he glides his tongue across his teeth. I look down and the bulge in his pants grows. I quickly look away, but my eyes fall on his smooth chiseled chest. I ripped off the first three buttons while I hoisted him up in the air. He’s gotten more tattoos since the last time he pushed me in the sheets; I fucking hate it. Is that a snake running all the way down his stomach disappearing into his black pants?

I took off his combat boots and socks before he woke and then I placed his feet on the wet towel and dropped the electricity line on it just to see him cry out as he woke every time I turned the lights on and off in his bedroom. We’ve been going at it for hours; I hope he can take a couple more before El messages me the job is done. Fighting against my tears, I hope he doesn’t go through with it. I can’t lose him again. Not for real this time.

“You used Eliot’s knives on me when I was out of it, didn’t you?” When my best friend’s name spills from his lips, I want to dig the knife right in his heart. He stares at his chest that’s soaked with blood and sweat, as strands of long hair fall across his forehead. “Where is that fucker anyway?” he asks, sounding excited. “I remember you two came as a pair before your brother staked his claim.” He chuckles, then starts to cough, blood-streaked saliva dripping down his chin.

I try to blink the tears away when I think about my best friend and what this asshole and my brother did to him, to us.

“Don’t you fucking dare say his name,” I threaten, my heart slamming in my chest as lust kicks through my veins. I shake my head; it’s my body remembering what Tian is capable of. That’s it. I don’t want him. He doesn’t love me, he never did. It was all lies. “You killed him, you both did.”

“Dash, look at me,” he orders, his voice laced with concern. He’s trying to take back control, but he can’t hide the way a muscle trembles beneath his eye. He knows what happened. I can see it in the way he watches me, searching for an explanation I can’t give him. But he pretends he doesn’t know why I’m acting like this, and the uncertainty is eating at him. It isn’t fear. It’s anger, the kind that comes from not knowing what is really happening for once. From not being the one pulling the strings.

Closing my eyes for a second, I shake my head; it hurts too much knowing what he can do. What they’re both capable of. What will happen when you defy the family, the Triad.

He thrusts forward and the chains rattle, white plaster falling from the ceiling, “What happened to you?” He takes a deep shuddering breath. “What do you mean we killed him?”

I eye the metal chains; fuck, how long before he breaks free? I grab my throat as the memories of what they did to me, to Eliot, try to drag me underwater.

“Nothing,” I answer in Mandarin, my voice hollow. “There’s nothing left between us Tian, there was nothing to begin with. Our paths will never unite again after tonight.”

He bites on his bottom lip, and I watch his chest rise and fall. “Where’s Eliot, Dash?” he asks, his deep voice having an edge to it. I shiver from the possessiveness in his brown eyes while I try to push down the hurt I feel tearing me apart from the inside.

“He’s looking after Moon,” I admit, trying to keep the rage and hurt from my voice. His eyes study me, trailing over my face like a caress.

“Testing his knife skills probably.” He laughs.

I take a trembling step toward him, letting my forehead fall against his chest. There was once a time when his touch would calm me down. He gasps as I take him and myself by surprise. He stiffens. “If you’re going to slap me again, can you squeeze my dick while you do it?” he deadpans as I look up, narrowing his gaze on me. Those cold, calculating eyes study me, testing just how far he can push me before I crack and smile.

“I’m never touching your dick again,” I snap pushing him back, and one eyebrow arches.

“You can also wrap your hands around my neck, your pussy used to get so wet doing it.” He laughs; he sounds crazy. The chains clatter above him as he lunges for me. I quickly take a step back and he grins in response.

“Don’t, Tian,” I threaten. “I should have killed you ten years ago.” The lie slipping from my lips.

Smirking, he rasps, “Maybe you should have.” He cocks a brow. “Or this is all a ploy to keep me occupied. You’re just as fucked as Moon is, don’t pretend otherwise.” He groans, his eyes locked on my flushed cheeks. His always styled-to-perfection black hair is matted with blood and sweat. I can see the cut I inflicted seeping through his undercut.