I moved to her, ignoring the sounds of the dead weight being shifted behind me. Her shirt was crooked, her hair everywhere, and her jeans were unbuttoned. Her face was red, cheeks wet with tears. “Look at me,” I demanded. My body was humming with rage, and I was trying to tone it the fuck down to be gentle with her. She needed gentle. I needed more blood, more screams. I wished I could bring the fucker back to life and take my time, torture him, make him scream like he wanted to make her scream. Her head snapped up, green eyes on me. “Stay lookin’ at me.” She did as I told her, and my hands
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