Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it.
Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
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RUNE TAKES ASINGLE deliberate step forward, and I’m almost completely covered by his huge form. A palpable shift ripples through the charged atmosphere. Torren’s eyes blaze.
“Rune,” I say, “I’m fine. Just … can you give me some time?”
Rune is quiet as he gives me a look. His jaw is tight, as he glances between Torren and I, and it’s like he realizes it’s not worth the trouble, because he sighs. “I’ll be inside.”
Torren’s voice slices through the charged silence. “You’re leaving with him.”
He doesn’t say it like a question.
I swallow, eyes burning. “It’s the last bit of self-preservation I have left.”
He snarls. “Fuck self-preservation.”
“If you’re here to kill me,” I say, tears rushing to my eyes. “Just do it.”
Torren tilts his head as his gaze washes over me, anger and dark amusement swimming in his eyes.
Suddenly, he takes a step forward, wrapping his hand around my throat. I gasp, more from surprise. The action seems to hurt him more than it does me, because a grimace briefly contorts his face. He must’ve gotten the bullets removed and the wounds stitched up, but I’m certain he shouldn’t be putting any strain on his body right now.
His hand around my neck — it’s not the worst way to go. Kill me, I want to say. Take the breath out of me, because now that I know you, no one else compares. I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life.
It was never meant to be like this. I was never meant to fall for him. It takes a monster to love a monster. And I would fight anyone who threatened my life. Anyone but him.
I’d let him drag me into hell, so long as it meant that he was by my side.
So much for self-preservation.
I close my eyes and let the tears slide down my cheeks.
Torren’s hand tightens around my neck, but it’s not a threatening grip. I glance up at him. His dark hair is scattered over his forehead, and his breath fans my face as he leans in closer, pressing his against mine. The metallic scent of blood on his skin mixes with the lingering trace of whiskey.
For a moment, I think he might strangle me, or maybe even kiss me. But he just runs his thumb across the crest of my cheeks, his touch tender and possessive as he wipes away my tears. I shudder at the touch.
Torren tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. Then he runs his hand through my hair, tugging the strands back so that I’m forced to meet his gaze. The air between us thickens. His lips hover above mine, and when he speaks, they graze against my lips, like the delicate touch of a flame. “Did you mean it?”
