The room reeked of us—blood, sweat, salt, and the copper tang of what I had taken from her. The table we’d shattered leaned like a corpse against the wall, jagged and obscene, and now she lay tangled in sheets beside me, throat torn and marked where my mouth had claimed her. Her eyes fixed on the blackout seam as though daylight might seep through and rescue her, though she had locked herself into ruin with me. Shame clung to her breath, but hunger still pulsed beneath it, betraying her. I could hear it—the contradiction that made her body tremble.“I hate that I still want you after what you did,” she whispered, voice raw, as though confession could scour the ache out of her.The words bit deep. I let them pierce. My answer came steady, carved from stone, merciless in its truth: “Hate me. Want me. Only don’t lie to yourself about either.”Her gaze met mine, expecting cruelty, expecting teeth. Instead, I dragged a claw-light touch over the wound at her throat, reverent where moments a
Last Updated : 2026-01-18 Read more