Blood Ties Book Two: Possession. Jennifer Armintrout

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СКАЧАТЬ tiresome, this feeling of shame at doing something he would have found perfectly natural in the past.

      “Of course I did. And far worse than you got.” When she didn’t respond, a wicked impulse overtook him. The first time he’d killed, he’d been put off by it. But he’d turned it into a game then, to make it engaging. What he’d done to her before had been mindless. How foolish of him. It had always been the chase that satisfied him. “I used to love girls like you.”

      She leaned up on her elbows, a hint of fear in her eyes. “What do you mean, like me?”

      Shrugging, he folded the chair’s footrest and sat up. “I’m sure you know your type. Starving for affection the way a dog starves for table scraps. Just plain enough that they never get the attention they want, but pretty enough to get noticed by men who are truly desperate. I’ll bet you hiked that sundress up for your fair share of please-love-me fucks.”

      She sat up, hugged her knees. “You’re wrong.”

      “Of course I am.” He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at her. “You were one of the good girls.”

      Uncertainty quivered in her watery eyes as she nodded.

      “Good girls don’t exist.” He sat beside her on the bed and placed his hand on her blanket-covered knee. “No matter how they tease, no matter how they insist they want to stay pure, they’re burning to know what it’s like.”

      “What…” She closed her eyes, shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “What what’s like?”

      Cyrus peeled back the blanket slowly, and she hurried to arrange her skirt over her knees. He reached beneath her legs and cupped the warm, rounded muscle of her calf. “The feeling of completely surrendering yourself to another person.”

      “I’ve never—” Her breath hitched, cutting her denial short.

      “You have.” He moved his hand up, skimming the bend of her knee. She shivered, but didn’t draw away.

      He stilled his hand. “You don’t have to deny it. I’ve had enough girls like you to know what’s happening in your head. You’re wondering what I did to them to make them give in. What pleasure I gave them to wear them down so they would surrender to me without hesitation. And you’re wondering if I’ll do the same to you.”

      He slid over her in one smooth motion. She gave no resistance, parting her thighs so he could lie between them. It was fear more than desire that made her compliant, he could tell by the look in her eyes. It encouraged him to continue.

      “I’d woo them with words they’d never heard from another man, but I never told them I loved them. That was key. They thought if they gave a little more, let me do what I wanted, eventually it would be enough. They thought it would make them special to me, and I would love them.” He slipped his hand between their bodies. She’d taken off her panties and washed them in the sink, and they hung over the towel rack to dry. There was nothing to buffer the boldness of his touch as he stroked her, just once, and she gasped and clutched his shoulders even as she tried to push him away.

      “See? Even though you know it’s a game, and you know what I am, you won’t ask me to stop. Oh, you feel guilty and dirty, but you think you can live with the guilt as long as you get what you need.” His mind reeled and he closed his eyes to regain control. Her body was wet and ready. He could take her. He knew she would let him, but then what? He couldn’t kill her. He didn’t have the strength.

      His mind reeled again. He didn’t need such a shameful memory hanging around his neck. He had to get under control.

      She trembled beneath him, looked up at him with her wide, innocent eyes. He couldn’t help himself. He slid his thumb over her slick flesh and leaned close to her face to hear her soft, stifled moan.

      “I loved this part,” he whispered against her ear, still rubbing her as she rotated her hips against his hand. “But it wasn’t the best part.”

      “What was?” She didn’t want to know, that much was evident from her tone, but at the same time he knew her curiosity was too great. It was the same with all of them. Their curiosity was their downfall.

      “The best part…” He nipped at her throat, avoiding that horrible, guilt-inducing bandage there, and slipped one finger inside her. “The best part was biting them and listening to them die as I used them.”

      She tensed. Her body offered too much resistance as he pushed the digit in farther. She was a virgin.

      Nausea clawed his guts, and he withdrew, rising to his knees. He’d expected it, of course, but not the shame that paralyzed him. Where had it come from, when he’d been doing so well?

      She sat up, a momentary frown crossing her face before she reached for him. Too shocked to resist, he sat motionless as she covered his mouth with hers.

      It was as if he twisted helplessly in a powerful storm, relying on a woefully inadequate tether to anchor him to solid ground. He’d had this feeling before, this desperation for human touch that mirrored hers. He’d learned to guard himself against it. The crushing rejection on her face when he pushed her away shot suspicious pain through his chest. It steeled his resolve. “I won’t let you whore yourself to me in return for false affection!”

      Her hurt boiled over into rage. “Why? You did it for all those other girls! You did it, then you killed them! Why not me?”

      “Is that what you want?” Now that he’d touched her skin, heard her soft moans in his ear, the thought repulsed him. Perhaps he had more in common with those needy girls than he’d wanted to admit.

      “I want to get it over with!” She flailed her arms and legs like a child having a temper tantrum as she screamed in frustration and despair. “I’m dead already! I just want to get it over with!”

      Cyrus paced at the end of the bed, his heart hammering his ribs. How did one deal with humans when they lost control like this? In the first hours after he’d become mortal again, he’d felt panic and terror. He’d prayed for death. He knew her pain. If he could take it from her, he would.

      In the weak moonlight that lit the kitchen area, he spied a block of knives on the counter. As soon as the Mouse was dead, he would have peace again, inside and out. No more doubting himself, no more fighting this frightening new humanity.

      His anger dried up as her own temper subsided into small, childish sobs, and he felt like a monster again. No, monster was too strong a word. Craven. That described him better. Craven, to cower before such a formidable opponent as a weeping woman.

      “Don’t cry.” He said it harshly, but he knew it was not a command she would obey. Cursing, he wrapped his arms around her shaking body and pulled her close, as if he could absorb the pain radiating from her.

      “I’m just sick of waiting,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “I’m so scared, and I’m sick of waiting.”

      He held her until dawn, though she’d cried herself to sleep much earlier. As sunlight filtered through the small, basement windows, the stupidity of his actions came crashing down on him.

      You’re pathetic. It was his father’s voice, not his own, that echoed through his head. Look at you, staying at her side like a whimpering puppy.

      As СКАЧАТЬ