The elevator door dinged open, and my eyes immediately locked on Ryuji. He stood at the end of the target practice area, flicking blades out of his fingers only for them tothunkinto the wall twenty feet away. On the wall, there was a rough outline of a man. Every single one of Ryuji’s blades landed on the target’s neck, forming a morbid collar.
“Nice aim,” I said as I walked toward him. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge my presence. “We need to talk, Ryuji.”
The closer I got, the more distracted I became by his appearance. His muscular arms and back were completely covered in Japanese tattoos, with a skin break vertically down his chest. The dragon tattoo I spotted on his neck last night curled down his shoulders and chest. He wore loose athletic shorts that hung low on his hips, exposing his broad chest and a nasty-looking scar on the right side of his abdomen that interrupted some tattoo art. My eyes trailed down his abs to those chiseled, distinct muscles that disappeared inside hisshorts. Involuntarily, my tongue dragged against my lips.Hip muscles make me weak.
His entire body dripped with a sweat thatshouldn’thave elicited a primal reaction of lust in me, but it did anyway. Not for the first time, I caught myself remembering the way his tongue deftly flicked against my clit, and arousal shot through me.
How the hell dideachof these men get the audacity to look so damn attractive? Did they all win some cosmic lottery? Were they somehow drawn to one another because of the universal laws ofhot guys?
I swear, it’s like I had never seen the male figure before with how often I found myself lusting after each of them.
I turned my head so he didn’t catch me literally drooling.Hi, my name is Leona, and I have a problem.
“Ryuji—”
“No,” he interrupted me, flicking another knife from his hand. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
“Come on. You don’t even have to talk. Just listen.”
“I’m busy. Please schedule an appointment with my assistant. I’m available the twelfth of never.”
Frustration boiled up within me. “Why do you have to be such a total asshole?”
His head whipped to mine, and the knife he threw went wide of the target.
“Excuse me?”
“Isaid, why do you have to be such anasshole?” This time, I made sure to punctuate each wordjustto be clear.
His eyes flashed. He turned back to the target and landed the remaining three knives, all within centimeters of one another—right on the target’s fake heart.
It was then that I remembered who I was speaking to: a Shadow. Wynn would never hurt me. He’d never even made me feel anounceof fear. Ciel was the same.
But Ryuji was a different level of darkness.
I swallowed. “Imagining that was me?”
He laughed darkly, a sinful sound that shot straight through my body like lightning. “Oh, I’m imagining doing allsortsof things to you.”
I cocked my hip out to the side and crossed my arms across my chest. I was acting recklessly, but I didn’t have time to play it safe. I had to push him. “Then do them.”
He froze, hand halfway toward retrieving his knives from the target. “What?”
“I’m calling your bluff.” I stepped closer. “You’re being an asshole for no reason. You’re reacting to what happened between us at the nightclub completely disproportionately to what this situation requires. And it’s getting on my nerves.”
“You’re saying I’m blowing this out of proportion?”
“Yes. So whatever it is that you’re imagining, do it. Get it out of your system, so you can just have a fucking conversation with me.”
He pulled only one knife from where it was embedded in the wall. With careful eyes, he flipped it in his hand, over and over, as he stalked slowly forward.
Was that fear curling in my belly? Or something else?
I stepped backward until my back hit the wall, but he kept coming, cornering me against it. He brought the knife up to the open skin on my collarbone, watching it curiously. I didn’t think he’dactuallyhurt me, but was I totally, completely wrong?
His eyes looked me up and down, growing increasingly dark until they were practically molten. My mouth went dry. I sucked in a breath as he stepped even closer, taking up all of the available air in my personal space.
He leaned over me, placing one hand above my head while the other kept the knife moving around my open skin. Tracing lazy circles that made me tingle wherever the knife touched.
