Page 55

“Mmm, that’s it, Kuklochka. You’ll take this molten nectar, then take every drop of me.” A continuous stream of the liquid amber sugar pours from his cup, drawing fine line swirls over her chest. Dean’s cock twitches as Dahlia cries out, tears dripping down her cheek as she sputters out a breath. “Good girl,” he whispers in her ear, then sits back on his haunches and pours the remaining wax over his chest. His upper lip tugs in a snarl as he hisses through the pain. He’s as much of a masochist as he is a sadist. Dean fists his length, tugging, then swirling his thumb over the crown.

A click pricks my ears. I glance at the door, then jump to my feet, dropping my sketch pad and pencil.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Violet locks eyes with me for a beat, then averts her gaze to avoid the scene next to me, cupping her hand over her eyes like a horse’s blinder. “I forgot my key to the theater,” she says, grabbing Dean’s key off the hook and then darts back out the door.

“Don’t do it, man,” Dean says, my eyes locked on the door as it clicks shut again. He knows exactly what I’m thinking. Dropping my cigarette into the ashtray and leaving my supplies behind, I run after her. “You can chase her skirt after!” I hear Dean call out as I’m slipping out. I have everything I need for his painting; he’s just bugged that he won’t be able to finish his show.

Lightning illuminates the stairwell through small, square windows that follow my descent. My heart thunders against my chest, feeding off the thrill of the chase, the pursuit of my prey.

Violet jumps as thunder cracks overhead, her hand freezes on the knob to the theater. But it’s not the thunder that has her startled; she’s as in tune with me as I am with her. The white light of the storm covers her in a mystic haze as she peeks over her shoulder, hand slowly turning the knob. I rush her, grab her wrists, spin her around, and slam her back against the door, arms above her head.

“I didn’t see anything.” She presses herself against the door, as if that will somehow create space between us.

“Liar,” I growl in her ear, then suck her lobe between my teeth.

“It’s none of my business what you do,” she says, the inflection in her voice higher than usual.

“Liar. Everything I do is your business, just like everything you do is mine,” I say, running my nose down her neck, I breathe in. There’s her regular rosewater, flowers in the rain that I love so much. But there’s something better. “I’m doing a painting for him. He asked Pru, but she refused to bear witness to his exhibition.” Holding her two hands in one of mine, I keep her pinned to the wall. My free hand slides down her neck, her chest, her waist. She whimpers, her back bucking against the door while pressing her breasts against me. I fist and tug at her dress until I can slide my hand beneath the material, holding and rubbing her thigh. Her breath hitches, her leg quivering.

She’s only ever this sensitive, smells this good, and talks like that when it’s her time.

When I get back, I’ll make her mine. She will never leave my sight again.

“Cain…”

“Yes, Kitten?”

“We can’t do this,” she says, all while her body invites me in for more.

“You want to.”

“Of course I do…”

Releasing her arms, I step back, cocking my head to the side as I look her over. Her hair is woven in a single long braid down her back, perfect for pulling. Her gaze moves over me, her chest rising and falling to the upbeat metronome of her heart against its cage. She’s wearing one of her purple dresses. I want to gnaw on her until her skin matches the color.

“We can do this here, or would you like to try your chances?” Her hand hovers over the doorknob, her eyes narrowing a fraction. “There are fewer places to hide in the theater than in the woods...” The corner of my lip tugs upward, and I quirk my brow to the doorknob as her fingers clutch it. “Ten seconds, Kitten. Start running.”

With one motion, Violet turns the knob, swings the door open, and slips through with the hem of her dress flying behind her.

My heart rises in my chest, and I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet.

Ten, nine, eight.

My palms and feet turn cold.

seven, six, five.

I’m chomping at the bit for the chase.

four, three, two.

Get ready for me, Kitten. Nothing is stopping me tonight.

One.

Launching forward, I swing the door so hard it slams against the wall. The boom echoes down the long corridor of the wings, my footsteps chasing the sound. If she wanted to get away from me, her best bet would have been to hide close to where she entered. But I doubt that. Violet is a lot like me. She wants this, the thrill of the chase.

I fly past the office, costume atelier, harmonic hall, and rehearsal room. All of those would be too obvious. I’ve had her in three of the four. She’ll expect me to reminisce and to go there first.