Page 37 of The Devil's Canvas

His lips twitch like he finds this amusing. "Well, that’s a relief. Because I don’t like you either."

I roll my eyes, of course he doesn’t, no one has in a very long time. "Good. We’re on the same page."

"Hardly." His tone is silk and steel, smooth but edged with something sharp.

I fold my arms. "Oh, please. What could you possibly hate about me?"

He takes a step closer, his eyes glinting like he’s been waiting for me to ask.

"You’re stubborn to a fault," he says, voice quiet but carrying weight. "You refuse to see what’s right in front of you just because you don’t like the way it looks. You think if you ignore the truth hard enough, it’ll change. It won’t."

I stiffen. "That’s not—"

"You push people away before they even get the chance to decide if they want to stay." His voice is softer now, and somehow that makes it worse. Too precise. Too accurate. "And you act like that’s power, when really, it’s just fear dressed up as control."

A slow, mocking smirk flickers at his lips as he watches my hands curl into fists. "What? Don’t like hearing the truth?"

I swallow hard, refusing to let him get a reaction out of me, despite the fact that I think I’d finally be able tohavea reaction. "You’re so full of shit."

He laughs, dark and quiet. "Maybe. But I’m not wrong, am I?"

My nails dig into my palms. I hate him. Ihatehim.

He watches me for a second longer, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll break. With a bored exhale, he steps back. “You don’t like me? Fine. But don’t pretend you’re the only one suffering.”

I glare at him, forcing my voice to stay even. "Oh yeah? And what are you suffering from exactly?"

His smirk is slow and infuriating. "The endless misfortune of being stuck with you."

I clench my jaw as he turns, completely unfazed.

"It’s a shame fate has such a cruel sense of humor, isn’t it?"

I don’t know who moves first.

One second, I’m glaring up at him, my pulse hammering in my ears, and the next—his hands are on me, and my back slams into the wall.

My breath catches. My body reacts before my mind can scream at me to stop.

Julian is heat and pressure and dominance, his palm flattening against my hip, fingers digging in just hard enough to make me gasp. His other hand cages me in against the wall, the heat of him pressing into me like he’s trying to brand himself under my skin.

"Hate me all you want," he murmurs, his breath a whisper against my lips, "but don’t lie to yourself, little fighter."

I want to shove him. I want to tear him apart. Instead, I grab the front of his shirt and yank him down into a kiss.

The second our lips crash, it’s not a kiss—it’s a war.

Julian doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stop to breathe, doesn’t give me even a second to pretend I have control. He takes. His fingers tighten around my waist, pulling me forward until I’m pinned between him and the wall, no space, no air, just heat and hunger and the suffocating weight of this bond between us.

A growl rumbles in his chest, low and rough, vibrating against my body as his mouth devours mine, all tongue and teeth and something feral. His lips move with slow, devastating precision, teasing mine apart just enough to let his tongue slide against mine—hot, claiming, tasting.

I gasp into him, my nails digging into his shoulders, and that’s when he really reacts.

His hands grip my thighs, lifting me effortlessly, forcing my legs around his waist.

I moan before I can stop myself.

He smirks against my lips.

---