Page 10 of Sinful Obsession
He moved faster than I expected, his hand engulfing mine, his grip firm yet careful.
His touch sent a jolt through me, “Your hands are too soft, Charles,” he said, his voice low, but laced with danger.
My body went rigid.
He brushed his thumb across my knuckles. “Not the hands of a killer. It’s not too late to walk away.”
I tried to tug my hand back, but he didn’t release it.
“I’m not leaving,” I said, too fast.
His eyes found mine again.
Then lower.
His head tilted slightly, like he was smelling me.
“You smell feminine.” he murmured, his voice a dark velvet that wrapped around me.
My heart stuttered.
Despite my disguise, he saw something.
I forced a laugh. “I get that a lot.”
He didn’t blink. Instead, he leaned in slowly.
“Even your voice,” he said. “It’s soft. Like you’re trying to sound tougher than you are. Almost works. But not enough.”
My lungs burned. I stepped back like I hadn’t just felt his heat crawl across my skin.
“I’ve watched people kill and be killed for glory. Seen monsters made, boys broken. I can spot the ones who won’t last a week.”
His fingers lingered. Anchoring me in place.
“You’ll die here, Charles.”
I swallowed, heartbeat pounding like war drums in my chest. But I didn’t look away.
“Then I’ll die trying.”
Something flickered behind his eyes. His grip loosened, but his gaze didn’t.
“Let’s see how long you last,” he said, stepping back with cool indifference.
“We’ll see if you’re still saying that when the bodies start piling up,” he said, stepping back, his voice stripped of emotion. “Get to your Den.”
I held my ground, pulse wild beneath the surface. “I won’t be an easy target, sir.”
His mouth twitched. “Whatever fantasy brought you here will get you killed. If not by the hands of your colleagues, then surely by the hand of the devil himself.”
He paused. “Cassian.”
The name hit me like a shockwave. Cassian.
It wasn’t just a name; it was a trigger, a spark igniting something buried deep in the fog of my mind.
My breath caught, and for a fleeting moment, flashes of memory—or something like memories—flickered in my head.
