“I’m sure,” he growls.
Another cold shiver ripples through me as the knife glints in his hands. For a second, I consider that I might be even further past my depth with all of this. The last time I was here, I knew it was a game. A terrifying, demented, twisted game, but a game nonetheless.
This time, I’m not so sure we’re playing anymore. And I don’t know if this is meant to be something sexual at all, even if I am, shamefully, excited.
This time, he might not want to chase me so that he can rip my clothes and fuck me.
It might simply be that he wants to rip my throat.
“Do you know what you destroyed?”
My lip retreats between my teeth.
“I—I’m sorry.”
“Not yet, you’re not. But you will be.”
I swallow again. “The car—”
“It wasn’t just the car, princess,” he hisses.
“I…” I tremble as he raises the knife again, twirling it thoughtfully in front of his face. “I’ll pay—”
“Fucking right you will.”
I gasp sharply as he brings the blade down to the front of my hoodie. He uses the razor-sharp tip to pull the neck down a bit, before running the knife down my sternum, letting it tease down between my breasts before he drags it to the side. My breath catches and a low pulse throbs in my core as the jagged tip of the blade drags over the hoodie, across my left breast, dancing right across my nipple.
I’ll pay.
Fucking right you will.
And suddenly, it clicks, even as a horrifyingly exciting shiver ripples heatedly between my thighs.
I’ll pay for what I’ve done. But it won’t be with money, or even my life.
It’ll be with something else.
When I drag my wide eyes from the blade teasing my nipple through my hoodie, up to those soulless, chilling neon X’s of his eyes, I know I’m right.
“If…” I breathe. “If we do this…”
I can feel him smirk behind the mask.
“Yes, princess?” he growls quietly.
I don’t have to finish the question, because I already know I’m right. This is the payment. I’m the payment for what I did. I fucked up. I destroyed what was his. And now, he’ll destroy me. It should feel barbaric and horrifying. I should hate this. Or at the very least, fear it.
I shouldn’t be so excited.
I shouldn’t be so wet.
My teeth drag over my bottom lip as I peer into his face.
“Why are you still wearing a mask?” I breathe.
I mean, we both know who the other is now. This isn’t an anonymous “meetup” via the Venom site anymore.
Kratos tilts his head to the side, letting that leering neon smile and the real one faintly glowing behind it pierce my soul.
“Because you wanted me to,” he murmurs.
The knife’s tip slides over my nipple again. I gasp sharply, feeling the pressure of it through my hoodie as he starts to walk around behind me. The knife drags across my chest, teasing across one breast and then the other, the tip passing directly across that nipple too.
My breath stutters as I feel him stop right behind me, the sheer size and mass of him looming over me from behind as he lowers his mouth to my ear.
“Because, princess…” he purrs softly. “You asked for it.”
My pulse spikes as the blade drags up my breast, the lethal tip dancing a fraction of an inch from my skin as it slides up my jugular.
“Now…” Kratos growls into my ear.
The heat, the scent, and the sheer power of him vibrates against my pebbled skin.
“Run.”
12
BIANCA
