Page 59 of The Cute Psycho

His upper lip trembles faintly, but he responds to my kiss, brushing his mouth ever so slightly over mine.

It's surreal as I open my eyes and note the changes in his demeanor. Life flows back into his face, color infusing his cheeks as they immediately turn red.

Out of nowhere, his hands grab my shoulders, pushing me off of him, his eyebrows pinched together in a frown.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice rough.

"Trying to help you?" I give him a sheepish smile that he returns, even in his shocked state.

"Ahh, the kiss of life," he purrs, suddenly back to his old self. "As much as I'd love more of that, we should make our exit before the cops get here," he notes just as we hear the sirens in the distance.

"You did well, Hell Girl," he praises once we get into the car. "You did very well indeed."

I preen at his words, hiding a satisfied smile.

"You said people wouldn't attack you," I add, unusually composed considering we've just been shot at and Vlad probably killed some of the men.

"They were fools," he chuckles, "but I can't say I didn't enjoy the exercise." He stretches in his seat, and my eyes fall to his biceps.

From the first time I saw him, Vlad's only been dressed in a black business suit. Now that his blazer is off, I get a better view of his bulging muscles, and I remind myself how easily he'd dispatched those men. Even with me by his side, he'd effortlessly waltzed around, everything more of a game than what it actually was—a life and death situation.

Not for the first time, I tell myself that I should feel differently about this... about him. There's just so much violence and brutality under his polished facade, all of it waiting to be unleashed. Yet, I can't help myself.

Like a moth to a flame, that volatility of his is only drawing me in, making me want to knoweverythingabout him.

If before my place in Hell had been secured, with Vlad by my side, it will be personalized into a true inferno.

"What would have happened if... if you'd lost your manners?" I ask, using the euphemism he'd suggested.

He purses his lips, his eyes on the road as he speeds into the night.

"I would have ripped everyone apart," he states bluntly.

I'm silent for a moment.

"Including me?"

He spares me a glance, his expression closed off, yet there's a hint of curiosity as he regards me.

"I don't know," he admits. "No one's ever escaped with their lives intact when I've... ahm, lost my manners," he says half-amused.

"I did. Twice," I note.

"You did," he narrows his eyes at me, "and I'm looking forward to finding outwhy."

"Maybe it was my magical kiss," I joke, chuckling.

"Then maybe you should do it again." He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I elbow him in the arm.

"Is that how you thank me for helping you? By taking advantage of my kindness?"

"Is that what it was back there?" he asks, his deep voice making me tremble. "Just kindness?"

Put on the spot, I turn my gaze to the road, unable to think of an appropriate reply.

Because it hadn't been just kindness. It had been so much more.

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