Page 143 of Pretty Little Threats

And that’s his fault.

His

fucking

fault.

His

fault.

HIM.

A scream tears out of my throat. Deep and ragged and chased by a freight train of emotion.

My knuckles smash into his face. I hit him again and again, growling like the wild animal everyone accuses me of being as my flesh connects with his. This man has stolen too much of my time. Taken that which doesn’t belong to him. Blow after blow, I ensure that Joseph Miller will never hurt anyone I love ever again.

forty-eight

ROSE

Dare returnsto me hours later. His blond hair is askew, black shirt damp with sweat and likely blood. Those dark brown eyes watch me as his chest heaves, every muscle in his body tense. Hands fisted at his side, jaw clenched. Shoulders drawn together. Legs ready to move at a moment’s notice.

He glances down, probably realizing there are splatters of blood on his arms.

While he was gone, I thought I’d feel more regret. Maybe even sadness. But I was numb as I showered the sweat and grime of the warehouse from my skin.

Now that he’s here, relief is all I know.

I push away from his kitchen island, slowly closing the distance between us, step by step, giving him moments to protest. He looks up at me through his eyelashes, pupils blown wide with adrenaline, and what I see reflected in them doesn’t scare me like it used to.

I see the man who’s been alone.

The boy who lost his parents.

The man who viciously protects those he loves because he’s had no other choice.

And I want nothing more than to be his.

Stopping in front of him, I take a breath to steady my racing heart, but it’s impossible when he’s near. Dare makes me feel. As he studies me, I half expect him to push me away. But he doesn’t. He gently grabs my throat and draws me forward until my back arches and our lips scarcely touch. Relief courses through me, and I slip my tongue along the seam of his mouth.

Fingers flexing on my neck, he claims my lips, tongue lashing against mine until I relent and submit to his control. His answering moan is deep and hungry and needy. The sound zings through my body from head to toe.

I break the kiss, sucking in a heavy breath and searching his face. He doesn’t speak, but there’s a war waging inside of those irises. The fight between beast and man. Dare doesn’t kill because he wants to, he kills because he has to. It’s the only way he’s been able to keep himself and his sisters safe.

But I know that murder, no matter how justified it feels, can haunt. Dare’s been battling that for years all by himself. But he’s not alone anymore. He has me. I don’t look away. I face his demons head-on and slowly lead him to the bedroom.

He watches me with hawk-like precision as I unbuckle his belt, drag it out of his pants, and drop it onto the floor.

“I’m going to help you shower.”

He doesn’t answer. Maybe he can’t. Or he doesn’t know what to say, but I don’t need his words. His actions are enough for me.

I reach for his pants and undo the button, gripping theband of his boxers and jeans together before dragging the material down his strong legs. He steps out of them and I reach for his shirt next. Lifting my eyes to meet his, I peel the damp material off his torso, inch by inch, exposing all that beautiful skin. I toss the shirt onto the pants and step back.

Dare tips his head in question.

Holding my hand out, I wait for him to decide.

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