Page 46 of Betrothed in Fury
“That’s right, so that means I get to do whatever I want to you.”
We lock gazes, and I see the sadist under his charming, attractive facade, the thing in him that’s like my own darkness and allows him to kill, torture, and terrorize his enemies. Only I’m not his enemy, and he’s still eager to do all those things to me.
He sets his glass on the bar and takes a few steps before I realize he’s walking around me, a predator circling his prey. I start to turn to him, but he rests his hand on my shoulder. “No, no. Don’t move, Log.” His words are a gentle whisper, and despite how abrasive he is, he can be delicate too, no doubt.
With him right behind me, out of sight, there’s fear about what he might do, but also a rush of excitement that grips me before he moves closer and I feel his breath against my nape. I wait for his lips to graze my skin—no, I anticipate it, wish for it in a way that makes me hate myself. I shouldn’t want this, especially not from a bastard like Killian, but it feels almost vindictive of him to keep those lips so close and leave me in suspense.
“You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?”
“Is that what you want, Log? For me to fuck you?”
As the breath behind those words slams against my neck, a voice in me, maybe that darkness or some masochistic part of myself, tells meyes.
“No.” That shouldn’t feel like a lie, but it does.
“That’s not what your mouth told me when you swallowed my load.”
A flash of pure contempt moves through me, and I spin to him, seizing him by his jacket collar and shoving him back into the bookcase. “You forced me to do that.”
Despite my aggressive act, he’s quiet, studying me. The way his gaze travels around my face is so slow, so precise, like he’s taking in every detail, committing them to memory. “What else would you like me to force you to do?”
There’s that rush of adrenaline again. I tell myself my body’s confused, mixing up the fear with something else, but all I want to do is take his mouth, which feels like it might be the only thing to quiet these urges in me. I have to get away from him, so I release him and turn around, when I feel his hand against my arm. It provokes something in me, and I spin back, my hand balled in a fist, ready to make contact. I growl when Killian grabs my wrist, stopping the attack, his leg kicking mine out from under me.
I take him with me to the floor, and the way he lands on top of me makes all my defenses kick in. I’m a caged animal, and much more successful now than I was in the bathroom after my jog. I’m proud as I lay blows into him, punishing him for everything he’s done to me—from telling me about the agreement, to tricking me into swallowing him, to wanting me to eat that goddamn salad. Although, at a certain point, I’m not even hitting Killian anymore, but anyone who’s ever slighted me, my mind flashing to that blood-splattered day at Hayward.
Killian absorbs my blows at first, then gets hold of my wrists once again. In a sharp move, he rolls me over, twisting my arm behind my back. “Fuck!” I call out in pain, rearing my head back as he whispers against the side of my face, “God, I love that fire in you.”
It takes me a moment to process the words, to realize Killian doesn’t despise me for attacking him in his house. “Something’sseriously wrong with you,” I tell him, still struggling, and he tugs my arm back farther.
“I swear I’ll break it.”
Given his tone, I don’t doubt it. I freeze in place, catching my breath as my nerve stings up to my shoulder, like the threat of him breaking it is closer than he realizes.
When I groan, he says, “Bet this is making you as hard as it’s making me.”
I hadn’t even considered something so perverse, but I can’t deny that my cock is straining in my boxers.
“It’s not,” I lie.
“Say it again, only this time knowing if you lie to me, I’m gonna bend you over my desk and take you no matter how many times you scream no.”
I weigh the consequences of lying to him again, willing my body to be honest, but it betrays me. “It’s not.” I say it so softly, I’m not even sure he can hear me, but he releases my wrist. I try to roll forward to prevent him from getting a feel, but he’s too quick and grabs my hard cock, squeezing. A low rumble of a chuckle slips past his lips. But now’s my chance, so I roll toward him, bringing my fist around, decking him in his cheek, making his head jerk to the side. “Get the fuck off me,” I demand, continuing my assault until I buck him off me.
I climb to my feet and start for the door, not sure what the hell I’m doing, only that I need to get away from him, especially after what I’ve just done. But a tug at my pants pulls me back, Killian grabbing my legs and yanking them out from under me. I tumble right back to the floor, onto my belly. As I recover, he crawls up my body, practically drags himself onto me so his weight pins my body to the floor. I try to roll toward him, but he gets a hook around my throat, keeping his hold tight enough to strain my windpipe.
“Fuck,” I grunt as I realize he’s gotten the upper hand once again.
“Oh, what’s this?” he asks, though I’m not sure what he’s seeing, so I do my best to turn my head, just as he’s reaching into my wallet with his free hand. The condom I put there is slipping out. He snickers. “You put this in here for me, Log?”
“No.” Another lie.
“Sure you didn’t,” he says, like somehow he’s invaded my thoughts and knows the truth. “I told you what I was going to do to you if you lied to me, so I guess this means you want it.”
“I never said I wanted anything from you, and you know it,” I force out, and he eases his grip, maybe realizing how much of my oxygen he’s cutting off.
“Really?” He rests his free hand against my side, sliding down.
Even though his hand’s over my shirt, where he touches prickles with sensation. My body betrays me again as this rush of adrenaline pulses through me. His hand travels to my belt, which he unfastens like a man who’s done this plenty, and he forces his hand under my boxers, so roughly that my pubes sting from being pulled, until soon his grip is around my shaft, which throbs in his hold.
