Makros' grip became tighter. He drove his hips deeper and harder, ripping a strangled gasp from my mouth.
"Say it."
I gritted my teeth, refusing.
He sneered, kissing me hard before jerking me all the way underneath him. then he made me say it. Again. And again.
Until I snapped. Until my body betrayed me completely, spasming around him as he rode me over, the sound of his name torn from my throat on a raw, helpless scream.
Makros rode me down, his teeth gritted on my skin as he climaxed.
For a moment, it was only the sound of our breathing, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Then his mouth touched the curve of my ear, his voice still rough, still condescending.
"You were never going to kill me,Amore mio."
I lay there, glaring up at him even as my own body still trembled under him. "Don't be so sure. I just want it done with my favorite gun."
Makros grinned, biting my lower lip, before he pulled back. "And your favorite gun,bella?"
"A golden revolver."
Makros chuckled as he drew a knuckle down my neck. "A golden revolver?" he murmured, his head tilted to face me. "So, you'd love to kill me in a grand style?"
"When I kill you Makros, I'd carve out your dick and preserve it. How's that for a grand styles?"
His hand drifted down, tracing the line of my collarbone before burrowing into my shoulder. "Shit, never knew the dick was that good. I mean, I know, but damn, to preserve it."
I laughed, attempting to put some space between us, but he wouldn't release me. Instead, he caught my chin in his fingers, forcing me to look up at him.
"You could have done it tonight," he whispered, his eyes dark and unfathomable. "I gave you the perfect chance."
I swallowed hard, refusing to acknowledge the reality that we both understood. Instead, I lifted my chin defiantly. "I will create my own chance, after you've fallen neck deep for me, and you won't see me coming."
Makros laughed, full and rich, and the sound irritated me as much as it sent a shiver down my spine.
"Bella," he whispered, brushing his lips against mine again. "Your mouth is going to get you into trouble."
I scowled at him. "Only if you live long enough to do anything about it."
His smile was pure amusement, but beneath it—something darker. He rolled off me, at last letting me breathe, but before I could roll away, he caught my wrist and brought it to his lips, kissing the inner surface of my palm.
"Then I'll have to make sure I stay alive," he whispered against my skin, "just to see if you ever pull the trigger."
I hated him.
But I despised myself even more.
Chapter Thirty Six
His Lucky Day
Morning light struggled to find its way past the closely closed curtains, and Makros' room was filled with broken shadows.
Leila lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, breathing steady even as a storm raged in her head.
Makros' arm was slung around her waist, weighty and possessive, the heat of it invading her clothing and settling into her skin. Her gaze traveled to the dragon tattoo on his arm. The ink was darker, the edges crisper–almost too fresh, as if it had been redrawn recently. A slow, creeping horror curled in her chest. This tattoo was the last thing she'd ever seen before her world dissolved, before waking up to this hell.
"What have I done?" she thought.
