“Is he dead?” He rumbled dangerously. I nodded my head and my lip trembled. “Yes,” I whispered. “Pity. He deserves worse for this,” he growled. He moved down so he could kiss a trail down one scar and a small sob escaped me. “I would carve him into pieces—” he kissed up the other scar. “And when I finally allowed him to die—” He peppered kisses along my hip, passing the scar to hit the spot he knew I was weakest. “—I’d drag him back from hell so I could do it all again.”
