Page 5 of Villains Never Die

This close to him, he smelled like salty sweat and a citrus cologne or body wash that was probably too cheap for me to name. I inhaled deeper than I meant to and the smell of it flooded my senses, coaxing a disturbing feeling. My stomach tightened and my dick stirred halfway. My brows drew together as I tried to make sense of the feeling, and that was the window Rook needed—one unguarded second.

My hold on him loosened and he caught the underside of my jaw with his fist. I went down hard, the room flashing for a moment as I tumbled to the ground a second time. He landed a kick to my ribs before throwing himself at me, pounding his fists into me twice more before I rolled from beneath him and push to my knees. I flung my hand up and conjured ropes from nowhere to wrap around his neck. I wasn’t a pussy for not using magic; he was weak for ignoring his gifts, if his paltry spells could be called that. I had no respect for a man who didn’t use every resource at his disposal. No wonder this maggot had so little power in the city. Although he killed me by surprise, I was beginning to think he was no opponent at all.

The ropes dragged him toward one wall of the cage, his back clashing against the metal so that it rattled with impact. He clawed at his neck, seeking air as his face turned red. Too easy, but strangulation would do. A clean, bloodless death. I stomped across the cage to him and nearly screamed at the fact that my suit was now covered in grime.

Rook glared up at me, fingers digging uselessly at the rope. He tried to kick me, but I stood just out of range until all his limbs stopped trying so hard. Gasping, he stared up at me, and there was a very different look in those sapphire eyes.

Complete terror, washing away all rage, quickly succumbing to acceptance. He knew I’d won. I crouched down and leaned close to his face.

“You should have stayed the fuck out of my city,” I snarled.

His mouth moved, but no words came out, only satisfying choking and gagging that meant he had little time left. I watched the helpless expression that took over as his face went slack, but the fear had faded. This was it; the moment I would watch him die, and all the bullshit he’d put me through over the past few weeks would end. One more power-hungry opponent whose life I doused like a candle.

His face turned blue from lack of oxygen. He sat limply against the cage wall, all the fight and fire gone. I’d won. Ialwayswon.

So why wasn't his broken body and spirit more satisfying?

He stared at me then with complete surrender, like an animal that knows it has met its end. His rosy lips, tinged now with blue, parted on a final breath that ghosted across my face. He blinked slowly once.

Temptation.

That was the urge I couldn’t explain as those lips turned bloodless and his eyes surrendered.

Some catastrophes in life happen against our will—train wrecks we’re forced into, decisions made without our consent. Not to me, though, not since my mum died. I was deliberate about every decision, which is why—of the two of us—I think I was the most surprised when I leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were still warm, still full of life as his drained away. The ropes loosened as our mouths met, and he took one enormous breath, as if he were trying to steal it from me.

But he didn’t push me away.

He kissed me back, tentative at first, then with fervor, as if this was the kiss that brought him back to life in a fairy tale. His tongue slid against my lower lip then, and I sprang back, breathless and wide-eyed. We stared mutely at one another as I stumbled back a step.

And ran.

Chapter Three

I never run.

I don’t back down.

Ever.

The man hanging from the ceiling by his arms, his hands discolored from lack of circulation, groaned as I punched him in the stomach. His busted lip dripped blood on my hand as he keeled forward, and I sneered at the sight of it.

What the fuck happened last night?

I wiped the red from my thumb with a handkerchief I’d have to throw in the bin after this. This man was supposed to answer a question—I was trying to get information out of him—but now I couldn’t even remember what I asked him.

Good luck getting rid of Rook now.

Has he lost his mind?

I don’t know, I thought he was kind of sexy. Can’t say I blame him.

“Shut. The hell. Up,” I grumbled, trying to block out the nosy dead. The pulverized man lifted his head slightly, giving mea look through his swollen and bruised eyelids:I didn’t say anything.

I sighed. That was the problem—they never wanted to say anything. I wiggled my fingers and my knuckles ached from beating him to a pulp. An evening of violence was supposed to drive Rook right out of my head, but physical pain, and causing it, didn’t do a fucking thing.

It wasn’t the first time I’d kissed a man. I found men and women equally appealing. Why limit myself?

But him?