Page 35 of Pretty Little Threats

Rose trembles in my hold, but I feel the way her fingers tighten on the knife, and soon enough, her own hand guides mine to finishthe cut.

“Look at that,” I whisper, nudging her cheek with my nose. “You killed a man.”

And now her fate is drenched in the blood of our shared enemy.

Rose slaps her hand to her mouth. I pry the knife from her grip and rise, grabbing the trash can and bringing it over to where she still straddles Eric. She snatches it from my hand and vomits.

“I threw up the first time I saw a dead body too.”

She heaves in response.

I squat next to her, the knife dangling in my grip. “The first night is the worst, but over time, it’s easier to mourn the loss of your humanity.” Smoothing her hair away from her face, I sigh. “And now that I have the murder weapon, I think it’s time we get married.”

Rose looks up from the trash can with tear-streaked cheeks, agony written across her features. “Eric is dead.”

Gazing down at the pool of blood, I nod. “Very.” Death is a familiar friend and I never liked Eric. I watch him bleed out, feeling nothing but satisfaction. Assholes like this don’t deserve to live.

Rose sets the trash bin aside, swiping her hand across her mouth. “I don’t need to marry you.”

A cruel smirk twists my lips. If she thinks I’m letting her get away a second time... “But don’t you? You killed a man. I’m the only witness. I have the weapon with your fingerprints.”

Her gaze flicks to the knife in my hand.

“Don’t even try, princess.”

By the time she meets my eyes again, that familiar vitriol is shimmering in her irises. Pride swells in my chest. She’s stronger than I thought, and if she’s pissed at me, atleast she won’t fall apart. That’ll come later, when she finds a moment alone. “Why?”

Because now that I’ve had a taste, I can’t get you out of my head, and I want to kill anyone who would try to touch you the same way I have.

She’s not ready to hear any of that, though. “Mutually assured destruction,” I say instead, standing in one swift movement.

Rose flinches. I clench my jaw but force myself to turn away, grabbing the towel hanging from the handle of the oven and wrapping the material around the knife. “You have your leverage,” I say when I turn back to her, crossing my arms over my chest. “And now I have mine.”

She climbs off Eric, seemingly oblivious to the shards of glass covering the ground and her bare feet. Maybe it’s the shock. Before I can stop her, she makes a wrong step and hisses in pain.

I growl, and she recoils, making me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. Earlier, all I wanted was to get a rise out of her, to see her react to something, rather than hide it all away behind that mask of hers, but her flinching away from me has my jaw clenching. Eric needs to die again.

She tries to step again.

“You’re reckless, you know that?” I approach her, holding my hands up.

Rose’s chest is heaving, breaths ragged, as she fights whatever fear is flooding her body.

Fucking Vanderbelt.

Why I care so much about whatever psychological distress she’s in is beyond me, but I do. The little tremor rocking her body and stealing that light of fire in her eyes makes me want to cut Eric open and feed his organs to therats, and even then, I’m not sure that would be enough to soothe the voice inside of me, demanding that I protect her.

“I’m going to pick you up,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she murmurs.

Some of the tension in my shoulders eases at the trust she extends. She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and gazes up at me with those big hazel eyes. My heart thumps again.

It’s a bad sign.

I should leave.

But I can’t.

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