Page 34 of Her Soul to Own

What the hell is wrong with me?

It’s the danger, that low hum of barely leashed violence that clings to him like a second skin. That smirk he wears like a blade tucked into his mouth. Calm and controlled. The kind of calm that only comes from a man who’s done far worse and never lost sleep over it.

He’s the type that women should run from, the kind that mothers warn daughters about. And yet I can’t look away.

His chest rises slowly and steadily. He’s not even winded. The air around him crackles with an electric and unholy aura. His hands are still, his jaw locked tight, his entire body wound like he’s holding back a monstrous identity that would rip the world apart if he let it slip.

And I’m standing here, heart pounding, blood thrumming, caught between instinct and desire.

Because this man could destroy me. And part of me wants to let him try.

He didn’t just make Jake disappear. He did it because I made himfeelsomething. No one’s ever done that before.

No one’s ever protected me like that, possessed me like that. No one’s ever burned the world a little just to keep me close.

There must be something broken in me, because despite the horror, despite the fear, I feel heat curl low in my stomach. My skin buzzes where his eyes land, and my body responds like it’s been waiting for someone to grab the leash I’ve been dragging for years.

I’m sick. Twisted. And I’mhooked.

“Why?” I whisper. “Why would you do that?”

His voice is rough and dangerous. “Because he put his hands where they didn’t belong.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“Ido,” he says, stepping even closer and crowding me into the dining table until my back bumps against the edge. “You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

“Admitted what?”

“That you wanted me to see.”

His hand comes up—not touching, just hovering, like he’s trying to remember what restraint tastes like.

“Say it,” he breathes. “Say you like it when I watch you.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t think.

But I don’t look away. And neither does he.

We’re a breath apart, tension a living thing between us. My chest heaves. His eyes flick to my lips, and I don’t know if he wants to kiss me or kill me.

Probably both.

I blink hard, trying to pull myself back. “I don’t want this.”

“Liar,” he chuckles, but with venom.

I shove past him, my chest still heaving. “You’re a fucking psychopath.”

His voice, calm and certain, follows me as I retreat. “You’ll come back.”

I pause at the doorway, my hands shaking, my heart hammering.

And for the first time since Jake disappeared, I’m more afraid of whatImight do next than what Silas’s already done.

Before I do something stupid like kiss that psychopath just to taste the danger off his mouth, I need to come back to my senses. I need to outmaneuver him. I need control. And leverage.

Because whatever game Silas Creed thinks he’s playing, he doesn’t get to win.

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