Page 107 of Wicked Savage

My eyes never leave hers. Lust, anger, desperation, fear…all of them create a storm inside me. Fear that I’ll lose her for good. That I’ve already lost her. And yet here I am, holding her hand like I own it.

I pull her closer, lips against her ear. The scent of her perfume wraps around me, and for a second, it’s like we’re back—back when things were simpler, before the chaos.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is tight, like she’s holding back the words she wants to scream. Her jaw clenches. “We do.” She turns to her friends. “Excuse us for a minute.”

Natalia watches me, her glare lethal.

“She doesn't like me, does she?” I laugh, looking back at Dinara as we move through the crowd.

“My cousin?” She scoffs. “No, she hates you. In fact, I think she pictures your face when we go ax throwing.”

My chuckle deepens. “I deserve that.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

I offer a half-smile. “I have some redeeming qualities.”

“Not many,” she snickers, her eyes lighting up with that spark that used to make everything feel like it was possible.

“Funny.” I pull her through the maze of bodies, past the chaos, until we find a more secluded corner.

I turn her toward me, my hands caging her against the wall as though holding on to her is the only thing keeping me from shattering completely.

“What do you want from me, Cillian?” A soft ache bleeds through her words. It’s an ache I put there, and it breaks me every time I hear it. “When are you going to stop this?”

“Stop what?” My muscles tense, despising the irritation in her tone.

“Hurting me.” She looks at me like I’m a stranger. A monster.

I don’t want to hurt you. I never did.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” I whisper, the truth breaking through.

Her laugh is empty, a sound that cuts deep. “Then why the hell are you here? Why are you following me like this?” She pulls her hand from mine, her fingers trembling with anger. “Are you stalking me? Because that’s what it looks like.”

If she only knew I live next door to her, she’d have me committed.

“I’m not gonna deny it.” My lips curl into something bitter. “It seems you were right. Thereisa first time for everything.”

“What?” Her features twist in confusion.

“You don’t remember, do you?” My knuckles trace the curve of her jaw.

“Remember what?”

“What you said to me the night we met.”

She shakes her head.

I reach for her cheek, softly caressing the skin that once made me feel complete. “You told me I was stalking you. And I said I wasn’t in the habit of stalking women. You laughed and said, ‘I’m sure there’s a first time for everything.’You were right, a ghra.”

Her eyes widen, like she’s surprised I remember at all. I lean in, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. My lips brush hers tenderly, like I’m afraid this will all slip away if I press too hard. Her breaths stutter as her hands slide toward my back, fingers hesitating like she’s fighting herself. It takes everything in me not to lose control right here and now.

“You need to stop,” she whispers—breathless, needy, like she hates how much she still wants me.

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” I pin her closer to my body, needing to touch every part of her, to remind her that she’s mine.

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