"Earlier. When they mentioned the Covenant. You were afraid of something."
His hand tightens on my throat, not quite cutting off my air, but close. "I'm not afraid of anything."
But there's something in his eyes…a flash of vulnerability quickly hidden.
He pulls out, flips me onto my stomach, and enters me again from behind, effectively ending the conversation.
But I file it away.
Cassius Wolfe, who commands Hell itself, is afraid of something.
Or someone.
As he fucks me into oblivion, as I come apart under his hands again and again, I wonder what could possibly scare a monster.
I don't know that the answer is me.
That the truth of what he's done, what we are to each other, is the one thing that could destroy us both.
But I will.
Soon enough, I will.
For now, though, I'm lost in him, in the darkness we create together, in the beautiful devastation of being owned by Cassius Wolfe.
Tomorrow is my last night here.
And I already know I can't walk away.
Chapter 4
Cassius
She sleeps like the dead.
I stand in the doorway of my bedroom—my actual bedroom, not the recovery room at the club—watching her breathe.
The morning light filters through blackout curtains I left partially open just to be able see her like this.
Destroyed. Claimed. Mine.
The sheet has slipped down to her waist, revealing the masterpiece I've made of her skin.
Bruises in the shape of my fingers around her throat, purple and blue like a necklace she can't remove.
Bite marks on her shoulders, her breasts, her inner thighs—some still bearing the indent of my teeth.
Red welts from my belt across her ass.
She looks like she's been mauled by an animal.
She looks like she belongs to me.
My phone vibrates.
Vincent.
It's not even seven AM, which means something's wrong.
