“Stop,” he said, his voice raw, husky, as if filled with pain. He gripped my wrists tighter. “I’m not him.” Laying my head back, I closed my eyes. He shifted on top of me, angled for a better hold. “Who else in this world or the next bears that mark?” I asked again. I looked at him, accused him with my glare. “The mark of the beast. Who else has the key to hell branded on his body? If not him, then who?”
