“Oh, don’t hurt me,” Pandora says breathlessly. She drops an arm dramatically over her forehead. “Please, foul rogue, I beseech thee! Do not mark my skin, for my beloved would surely cast me aside!”
She laughs and starts pulling her hoodie off. “River or Blaze for the role of beloved? What do you think?”
I grab her by the throat, squeezing hard with one hand while I hold the folded-up blade in the other. “Leave Blaze out of this,” I hiss. “Play with your boytoy all you want, but Blaze is?—”
He’s mine.
The thought strikes me out of nowhere, but it’s true. No matter how many women we share, no matter what else happens… In the end, heis.
Pandora’s eyelids flutter, and she moans loudly despite my hand around her neck. “Then… then you should… put your money where your mouth is…”
I tug harshly at her hoodie, helping her pull it the rest of the way off, then stare down at the tank top she’s wearing beneath it. I’m not patient enough to pull that off, too, so I flick the karambit open. I’ve never actually used one, but it doesn’t take an expert to know how to cut something with it.
And cloth should be easy to slice open, if it had parted my skin with barely a cut.
I smile down at her. “Should I?” I ask, then draw the tip of the blade down the center of her tank top. I watch as the fabric slices open, revealing only a bra and unblemished skin beneath it.
She’s lucky I didn’t cut deeper, that blood isn’t seeping to the surface.
“Hey, hey!” Pandora protests. “I liked that shirt!” She glares. “If you cut up my shorts, I will turn that knife back on you.”
“Then maybe you should get them off before I get any ideas,” I retort. Though the idea of cutting those off is an appealing one. She’d have to walk out of here in only her hoodie, and everyone would know what kind of whore she is.
Pandora scoots back and unbuttons her shorts. She has to stop to untie her combat boots, but I watch, knife in hand, as she strips completely naked.
My eyes rake over her body, taking it in, appreciating it. She might be insane, but sheisbeautiful. The curve of her breasts, the slender line of her waist, toned legs — she reminds me of a dangerous, deadly flower, so lovely to look at but ready to poison you at any given second.
So why am I fucking with her, ready to taste her, ready to see howpoisonousshe actually is?
Seeing her with Reaper had awoken something in me, something hot and vicious, and I’d wanted to snatch her hand away and give her something else entirely to touch. She doesn’t belong to him.
She belongs to…
To Blaze.
To me, an insidious little voice whispers in the back of my mind.
It doesn’t make any sense.
This isn’t the type of woman I usually go for.
I like nice women. Women who want study dates and enjoy flattery and smile when I pay them a simple compliment.
Pandora’s smiles hide something dark behind them, something less than sane.
Nonicegirl would wave a knife around like she does.
I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want her.
“Do you know how to hold still, Pandora?” I say, climbing onto the bed. My voice echoes back in my ears, and I don’t even recognize myself.
“What happens if I don’t?” Pandora answers. There’s bruising on her neck from wheremy fingers had dug in.
There are also dark marks on her hips, from another man’s fingers. I lay one hand over the bruise and push down.
Pandora gasps and raises her hips into the touch.
“You’re sick,” I rasp.
