Page 230 of Fatality

Of course, I’m not going to be all over you just because you fuck well.

I need to get a grip, I need to remember who he is, and what I’m here for.

The glass explodes in my hand, shards slicing into my palm.

“Shit.” I shut my eyes for a second.

When I tell myself to get a grip, it doesn’t mean that.

Evren’s hand shoots and grabs my wrist and spins me around to face him.

“The fuck are you doing, you psycho?”

“Seeing if you have any shards, you idiot.” He growls.

I yank my bleeding hand back and swing at his face. He doesn't even flinch or dodge.

He takes the slap, his head doesn't even move.

My blood paints his cheek red.

Then his hand moves, way too fast. His fingers wrap around my wrist, swallowing it whole.

Probably enough to wrap around it twice if his hand were elastic.

His knuckles are tattooed. I don't think I've ever really looked at them before.

I noticed his arms, his shoulders, his torso yesterday—when he was naked and fucking me.

The memory makes my skin heat up instantly. I shake my head and try to pull my wrist free.

“That's mine, Evren,” I say.

“No.” He shrugs dismissively. “After yesterday? It's all mine.”

He brings my bleeding palm toward his lips, his tongue flicks out, catching the blood running down my hand and wrist.

My entire body locks up in shock. What the fuck is wrong with him?

I wrench at my hand, trying to pull free. His grip doesn't budge.

“Let go, you psycho!” I shout, twisting desperately.

“You really can't go five fucking minutes without hitting me.” He grins “Too bad I like it.”

Then his mouth is on my open wound. He licks it and sucks the blood.

My entire fucking body freezes.

My eyes stay wide open in shock, disgust and, somehow... A horrified fascination.

How is this man even real? He's gone so far beyond being a psychopath that I don't even know what to call him anymore.

“Fuck,” He exhales against my palm “Your blood taste fucking good.”

“Y-You are…” I gulp, unable to finish the sentence through the shock.

“Yes,” he says, lifting only his eyes to meet mine. There isn't a trace of regret in them. “I am.”