Page 312 of Coal Hearts

Victor waved, striding closer and closer.

I waved back before fisting the leash and dragging her into the cage of my spread thighs.

She fell into me.

I caught her.

I held her cheeks and whispered deep in her ear, “Fight me, Ilyana Sharma. Go to war with me. Make me earn your blood, your screams, your pain. Play monsters with me. Play house with me. Play in fucking hell with me. Cry for me when I have you bound and bleeding, and then accept my worship when it’s over. Let me punish you and idolize you. I don’t just want your fear, I want your lust too. I want your mind, your heart, your soul, and I don’t care that I can’t buy them. I’ll earn them...one delicious bruise at a time.”

She struggled to get away.

I held her tight.

Tracing my thumbs over her cheekbones, I stared into her stunning eyes. “Play with me, little nightmare, because my greatest weakness is you, and the day you understand that is the day our true games begin.”

Chapter Eleven

...............................

Ily

––––––––

HENRI’S WORDS SPUN AROUND AND around in my head.

“My greatest weakness is you, and the day you understand that is the day our true games begin.”

The gardens swirled.

The pond shimmered.

Talking to him was like trying to write the rulebook on psychological warfare.

Trying to make him see that despite his perversions, he still had a soul only fell on deaf ears. My attempt at making him see he wasn’t like the others flew right over his head.

Can it be true?

Could he honestly be that clueless where feelings were concerned? Was he so denied affection and togetherness that he truly had no idea how to care for someone, how to love?

Good grief, that was terrifying, horrifying...the most alarming thing he could’ve said.

In trying to understand him, I’d found out the worst.

How could you manipulate someone who saw nothing wrong with hurting a girl they admitted they had feelings for? How the hell could he speak about monogamy in the same breath as wanting to hurt me?

I hated the word crazy after hearing it slung around so often about Krish, but...wow...I genuinely think he’s truly crazy.

Which meant I was in even more danger than I’d feared because crazy was unpredictable and capricious and—

“Finally!” Victor’s obnoxiously smooth French accent sailed from behind me. “I was beginning to think you’d died in your room.”

Letting me go, Henri stood politely. Pointing at a spare lounger, he grinned. “Morning. Or rather, afternoon.”

“Almost evening from where I’m standing.” Victor chuckled, sitting primly on the spare white-and-aqua-striped lounger. His black shorts and charcoal polo made him look like a soul-sucking parasite. His eyes flickered to me, collared, leashed, gagging on rage and fear.

“Bonjour, Ilyana. My, my, what a pretty name.” His voice tightened just a little. “Tell me, is that Arabic for sun ray and shining light?”

I went deathly, horribly still. “How...how do you know that?”