Page 10 of The Price Of Possession

She's deadly. One Goddamn taste and I'm a goner. I already know I'm going to enjoy indulging in her. She makes me fucking insane.

“Kieran! What in the he–” Vesper’s words are cut off by Zain. I know he won’t stop me. Bro code. “Vesper!” he warns. Vesper scoffs. “No Zain, he is absolutely psychotic. There's no way I'm leaving her al—” My voice raises an impatient octave. “Control your bitch, man!” My eyes still stay fixated on Clara. Her deep blue ocean depths pull me like an invisible tether. I want to see how far her pain goes. I want to watch her shatter beneath me while I drown in her sadness that lays beneath the surface.

My eyes flicker to the doorway where Zain is shooting me a warning glare. He hates when I call her a bitch. Vesper wears a vicious scowl. Clara's hazy eyes go wide. I see the flames of hell rise in her irises. She springs forward from the bed, but I block her only exit. “You've got to be kidding me! You prick!” she fires off. Clarity starts to return to her. Not sure if I'm disappointed or enthralled.

I cross my tattooed arms over my chest and smirk at her.

“Want them to join? I'm not opposed to sharing?” I offer just to get a rise out of her. She may sleep around, but one line she'd never cross is Vesper and Zain. Vesper would never go for that shit anyway.

She sneers at me. “You're such a dick. A stupid fucking dick!” she spouts off. Her little hands slam against my chest. That little venomous mouth of hers is going to get her in trouble.

We're like oil and water. A volatile mix of perfect destruction. She's awakening something within me. A dark desire.

I shrug. I've been called worse. Her words aren't exactly wrong. “Didn't seem to matter when I was balls deep inside of you, sweetheart.”

She crinkles her nose, ready to question her new little nickname I've given her. But she quickly thinks better of it and snaps her mouth closed.

Her eyes drift back over to the doorway as if Vesper will save her. An exasperated sigh leaves my lips. “Fuck off unless you're joining.”

Zain hauls Vesper away kicking and screaming. I turn around long enough to slam the door shut behind them and click the lock in place.

“Time to play, Nightshade.”

I'm locked in a room with the beast. He's demented and chaotic and–Did he call me Nightshade? Again. That nickname has haunted my dreams.

“Now, why were Val's hands all over you, huh?” He interrupts my thoughts with his mocking haughty tone.

My eyes drag over his form with indignation until I meet his crystallized gaze. His tattoos span across his face, neck and arms. He lights something within me I wish he didn't. He's dangerous.

I decide to snuff out the flame before it ignites into unholy ruin. “Because we fuck, obviously. It's none of your business!” I spout off.

A dark heat simmers beneath the surface. His chaos scares me. I can't read his demented mind, yet I still push to see how far he will go. How far until he tips.

“Silas joins in, too,” I further press, mocking him. Is pushing a manipulative, wild card in my best interest? Probably not, but I can't help myself.

A predatory smirk grows on his face. He lets out a cold, cynical laugh. His eyes hold a secret I want to uncover. Something lies beneath the surface. I'm not sure why, but something about his desecrating gaze holds my curiosity.

No, bad idea, Clara. Horrible, actually.

So, I lash out in anger instead of dealing with my feelings. “He was better than you. He didn't feel the need to drug me just to fuck me.” Lies. “Clearly, you find me repulsive if you feel the need to do that!” Low blow but screw it.

Something flips like a switch. His devil may care attitude leaves the room. His smirk is now replaced with a devilish undercurrent of fury. His face turns stony. He stands unmoved. I'm not sure if it's more concerning that he's not reacting at all. I expect him to lash out.

Destruction.

Cataclysmic rage.

Something other than a statue. Under the surface he's calculating his next move–something he never does. I take slow steps toward the door, but he's not easily fooled. He blocks my exit with his massive body.

He latches onto me with his spectral gaze. His words come out timed and thick. “Yet you keep yourself drugged heavily regardless. You're a walking zombie. The question is, can you fuck without the use of sedatives and pills, Nightshade? What's that like for you?” He cocks his head to the side like he knows me. My fiery attitude pops like a deflated balloon. That cocky attitude of his shines through, as if he knows the emotions that filter under my skin. It's always there, pulling me under.

I grit my teeth. The guy has a way to deflect. I take another step toward the door. He matches it. His Chelsea boots make the floor creek. My ass slams against the wallpapered wall behind me. My skin turns clammy. His masculine musk hits my nose, filling my circle. I swallow, fighting the urge to allow him in. He can't see me for what I really am.

I don't know why I do it, but I reach out to trace under his eye where his tattoo falls along his cheek. A flame. It's one of the many tattoos stamped on his skin. He has so many covering his entire body. It's chaotic, just like him. There's no rhyme or reason to them.

“Why do you refuse to leave my Goddamn brain?” he growls, inching closer. His eyes fall over my face in a resentful attachment. His hot breath fans over my cheek. Weed and alcohol surround me.

He reaches out and threads his tattooed hand up the back of my scalp and yanks.