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“For once, princess, shut up.” His hands clutched my ass, lifting me up, my legs wrapping around him. “Make me.” His mouth crashed into me like an explosion. Life. Death. Love. Hate. With just a kiss, everything ignited, making me realize we had not actually kissed before. The feel of his actual lips on mine was ruthless and vicious, snapping fire and electricity into my nerves. Pure pleasure. Pure pain. Downright feral.
DOWNRIGHT FERAL
Life and death. It branded us. Owned us. Created us. This man would consume me. Devour and destroy me. He’d burn me to the ground, but I would rise up from the ashes and demand more.
“I’m a legend. A warrior. Death can’t fuckin’ touch me... but I couldn’t fight you.” “Maybe I’m death,” I snapped back. “No.” His hand clamped down on the back of my head, bringing our faces an inch apart. His chest brushed my nipples, hardening them. “You feel like fucking life. Like air in my lungs.”
Wrath. Lust. Hatred. Passion. Every emotion consumed me, my spine arching into his touch, my brain shutting down to logic. It only desired. Craved.
“If you think I wouldn’t choose your life over a fucking diary...” The blade dropped from his hand to the bed. He seized my thighs, lifting me off my feet, curling my legs around his waist. “Then you’re not fuckin’ getting it, princess. This world would be in shreds if anything happened to you.” Heat, rage, and violence throbbed between us. There would be carnage.
We both attacked. Shoving, clawing, scratching. Invisible hands, teeth, tongues, and lips attacked with vicious passion. There would be no hostages, only decimation until just bits of us were left.
“Warwick.” Desperation and fury coated my tone. Consume me. Devour. Destroy. I didn’t care. I wanted to be left in cinders.
