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The door slams open and I jerk upright, clutching the sheets.
Eoin swears under his breath as light from the hallway washes over us, and he’s immediately on his feet ready to fight. “Rainer?”
“Rainer?” I repeat.
“I can’t do this, mo róisín,” he growls. “We need to talk.”
My traitorous heart rate picks up at his term of endearment for me. “Now?” I ask. “What time is it?”
“Late,” he says at the same time Eoin says, “Early.”
They glare at one another.
“Get the feck out, Eoin.”
“Yeah, she means nothing to you,” Eoin mutters.
Rainer narrows his eyes at Eoin. “I said get out!”
Suddenly, Eoin’s eyes widen and his face contorts. He scrambles to put space between us.
“Eoin, what—” I whirl on Rainer. “Release him! You can’t just do that to people whenever you want.”
“I can and I will.” Rainer growls before releasing Eoin from his fearcaller hold. I’m simultaneously appalled and awed by the power the Prince of Fear holds. “Keep. Your. Hands. And. Lips. To yourself.”
I’ve never seen Rainer so angry. The energy in the room is tense, and I fear that Eoin might fight back. Instead, he backs away with his hands up.
“She needed a friend.” He looks at me as he makes his way out the door. “And when he” —he jerks a thumb at Rainer— “ruins whatever strange thing you two have going on, I’ll still be there for you, Alessia.” He gives Rainer a stern look. “As a friend. As whatever you need.”
Rainer’s eyes flicker shades as he slams the door shut in Eoin’s face and prowls toward me like a lethal predator, I recoil, flinching back until my calves hit the bed.
His face contorts as if he’s pained. His eyes lighten back to pale, icy blue before darkening into cobalt, then black. “I told you to stay away from him.”
“You told me not to kiss him,” I correct.
“I hate the secrets between us. I hate the thought of Eoin’s hands on your body—of anyone’s hands on you except mine. There’s something I need to—”
“I hate the thought of your lips on Fern’s neck!” I hop out of bed. My nightgown falls around my thighs as I stomp my way to Rainer. His eyes roam my body, and he visibly relaxes when he sees I’m covered. “You made me feel something for you—you bastard.”
“Bloody hell! I feel it too!” Rainer snarls, his eyes darkening to an almost-black. I shudder, my palms growling clammy.
He grips me gently by the throat, holding me in place. Leaning forward, he runs his nose along my jaw, inhaling deeply.
“My little rose,” he mutters against my neck. “I tried to stay away, but I can’t.”
Goosebumps rise on my arms, loving the way his breath tickles my skin. My stomach flutters with excitement. This is so messed up. There’s something seriously wrong with Rainer—worse than I initially thought. Yet I can’t help the way my body responds to him.
His fingers flex on my throat. Not tight enough to hurt or cut off my air, but just enough to show me who’s in charge of this moment.
Heat builds between my legs.
I’m mortified his aggression is turning me on, but I’m also too aroused to stop him. I’m paralyzed with lust and need. Frozen with confusion and shock.
I should hate this.
I should push him away and put distance between us.
But I love his hands on me. Love his unhinged possession.
