The kiss is fierce, punishing, yet her body softens against mine. Her hands push weakly against my chest before clutching at my shirt, pulling me closer. I deepen the kiss, my hand sliding to her lower back, anchoring her to me.
Something inside me snaps, and I crush my lips harder against hers. Our bodies press together, the contrast between her soft curves and my hard angles igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both.
When I pull back, her lips are flushed, her breaths shallow. She stares at me, wide-eyed and trembling, and I know I’ve shaken her.
“Monster or not,” I murmur, “you’re mine.”
She shakes her head, but the look in her eyes tells me it isn’t denial, it’s like she’s trying to make sense of something.
“Why did you say I wasn’t the last to see Max alive?” she asks, biting down on her bottom lip.
“Because you weren’t,” I reply smoothly, lowering the straps on her dress.
She takes a step backwards, and I quickly follow. This continues until her back hits the wall and I cage her in with my body.
“I was the last to see him. The night he beat you, I killed him, Alina. I killed him for hurting you. Killed him fortouching what’smine,” I explain, making sure she can hear the seriousness in my tone.
“Wh-what?” She pushes at my chest. “Don’t you dare blame me for Max’s death.”
So that’s the only part she cares about? Interesting. “I’m not,” I say, leaning down so I can lick the column of her neck. “It was my decision.” I nip at her skin. “Because of what he did. The choice was mine, and mine alone.”
She closes her eyes and arches her back. “How did he die?”
I chuckle, but don’t speak until her eyes flutter open again. “Screaming in agony,” I clarify. “After I broke most of the bones in his body.”
This time, it’s not me initiating the kiss. Alina lets out a small sigh, and then she jumps up and into my arms, winding her legs around my waist. Her lips find mine, and she eagerly slides her tongue into my waiting mouth.
“Alina,” I groan, squeezing her ass.
“Thank you,” she mutters against my lips. Then she dives back in, fusing our lips together.
My hands eagerly roam her body. I slide a finger down the crevice of her ass, seeking out the wet heat between her legs. With each movement, she intensifies the kiss and moans into my mouth.
When she pulls back, we’re both breathing deeply. “Take me to bed,” she demands.
I squeeze the soft globes of her ass harder, not letting go until she gasps. “No,” I rasp.
“No?” she echoes.
Without words, I carry her into the library. I set her down on the desk and switch on the small, round lamp. Immediately, the room is cast in a soft light.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, my voice low and filled with gravel.
“Absolutely not,” she hisses, making me chuckle.
“Good girl.”
She might not trust me, and she shouldn’t. But she isn’t fighting me either. Hell, she isn’t even trying to get away as I let her go and rummage through the top desk drawer. I quickly find what I need; my letter opener. The family heirloom is shaped like a dagger, with a wolf head at the bottom of the handle.
Her eyes widen as I pull it out. “W-what are you going to do with that?” she asks, breathing intensifying. “A-are you going to hurt me?”
“Never,” I vow.
My hands are steady as I run the tip of the letter opener along her collarbone. Apart from her ragged breathing, she’s so still it’s almost unnatural. That is until I slip the tip under the strap of her dress and yank, splitting it in two. I repeat the motion with the other strap.
“Rafe,” she whimpers, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear, shock, or something else.
With the straps out of the way, I insert the tip into the side seam, tearing upwards. I could’ve just made her stand up and remove the dress without ruining it, but where’s the fun in that. I don’t stop until no thread holds the garment together, and it falls down on its own, pooling around her hips.
