More than anything.

I would’ve castrated myself if it meant I could be free of the evil lurking in my blood. Tess didn’t deserve any of that. Tess deserved to be made love to. Not f**ked. Not used by a man who had issues deeper than the f**king ocean.

The door opened.

Tess came out of the bathroom. I sucked in a breath as she made her way toward the bed. Her na**d body was flushed and scrubbed. Droplets from the shower sparkled in the late afternoon sunshine streaming through the window.

My eyes dropped to the red outline of my hand on her thigh.

Ah, shit. Seeing the mark tangled my conscience into further chaos. My heart raced in bitter regret, while my c**k leapt with f**king joy. The blush. The thrill. The knowledge I’d put it there sickened as well as bewitched me.

I wanted more.

No, you don’t, you sick bastard.

My eyes fell to the ugly yellows and greens mottling her skin. Fading abuse from other bastards like me who got off on abusing women.

How can I be like them? How could I hurt the woman who owned my soul?

I struggled to suck in a breath as Tess climbed gracefully on the bed, carefully avoiding my eyes. Every movement was understated, carefully orchestrated as if she was invisible. Her hair was coiled upward while damp strands escaped, sticking to her neck. Her spine stood out, her collarbone a stark necklace. She looked so innocent and young.

But strong. So f**king strong.

I waited to see if she’d come to me. My arms throbbed to hold her. I wanted her to curl against me and let me guard her—I would be her protection so the nightmares would never find her.

But she didn’t come closer.

With a soft sigh, she reclined against a pillow, staring upward. Her eyes were large and lost. Her face tense and timid.

My blood boiled. What had she been thinking about in the bathroom? Something had to have happened for her to become so withdrawn.

It didn’t make sense. I hadn’t hurt her. I knew she’d enjoyed me taking her. She’d come. She’d wanted what we’d shared. I knew that with utmost certainty. Her release had milked my cock, telling me blatantly how much she enjoyed it.

So why? Why the silence and sadness?

Confusion itched my muscles, making my temper flare.

“Plus de secrets, esclave.” No more secrets.

Tess looked over, her eyes filling with warmth. “No secrets. Just tired.”

Damn f**king lies.

The large bed created a barrier between us. Lies filled the silence, secrets distanced us—pushing us further and further away.

I’m done.

Nothing would stop me from cracking open her mind and finding out the truth. I was done f**king waiting.

Throwing myself off the bed, I prowled around the mattress toward Tess. My c**k hung heavy between my legs, reminding me I had plenty more to give. I’d use it to break her. I’d drive her mad with wanting and then I’d ask. I’d demand to know.

Tess’s eyes closed, either blatantly ignoring me or hiding yet more secrets.

“Esclave. Get up,” I ordered.

Her gaze flashed open; she sucked in a gasp. Her vision drifted down my chest, over sparrows and ink to latch onto my rapidly growing erection.

It jerked under her inspection, begging for her wet heat.

Tess froze; something flickered across her face but then was gone. For a split second clouds rolled over the sun, drenching her in shadow, painting her face with grief. But then the sun broke through, and she smiled.

Her body moved like water, slinking and rising from the pool of bedding to stand before me. Fuck, she was stunning. And mine. All mine.

I locked my muscles to stop myself from reaching for her as she came to stand before me. Every moment echoed with strength then shyness. Rebellion then obedience. Her entire demeanour played havoc with my head.

One moment I saw the woman I fell for, the next all I saw was prey. Prey I wanted to molest and break and bend to whatever sick fantasy I desired.

My jaw locked as she raised her chin, looking me in the eye. I wanted her to bow to me. To serve. To let me do whatever I damn well pleased.

Everything inside—everything I’d been missing—sprang back to life. My soul that’d been scarred and tattered thanks to Tess’s abduction slithered away, leaving me angry. So f**king angry.

The anger started as a burn in my heart—a spark with a flash of gasoline, erupting into a flame, igniting my blood until my entire body set alight with furious need.

I needed to take Tess ruthlessly and painfully. I needed to remember who I truly was at heart. She might have let me brand her and accept my callous ways, but I’d held back. All my life I’d held back.

And every time I did, it layered more darkness in my gut. Building into something manic. Tess had let me use her, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to what I wanted now.

“Je suis désolé.” I’m sorry.

Her lips parted, her skin whitening.

My arms banded around her—picking her up in a vice. “I’m not done with you, mon coeur.” My heart.

My mouth stole hers; my legs almost buckled at the fresh taste of her shower, cloaking the muskiness of spent desire.

Her lips went slack, allowing my tongue to dip inside her mouth. I groaned as she kissed me back. Her hands left the ramrod position by her sides, coming to rest on my hips. Her fingernails scratched my skin, dragging me forward until my lips bruised hers in a searing kiss.

“Q—please—”

Her beg wobbled with passion…no, wait—

My heart squeezed in panic.

It can’t be. It couldn’t happen.

I pulled back, glaring. I searched for some sign—some hint she wasn’t coping. Her blue-grey eyes stared back. For the first time since I’d met her, I couldn’t sense what riotous emotions she kept hidden.

Did she mean what she said? Or was that a lie, too?

She was unreadable.

The panic morphed to rage; I dragged her against me. My lips latched onto hers, kissing her hard. I tried to break her perfect façade. I wanted to crawl down her f**king throat and steal her heart and soul forever, so I’d always know her innermost hellions.

The monster inside—the one who lay dormant for weeks—came roaring back to life.

Control.

Smash her. Test her. Force her to give you her fears.

The sickly entice slithered in my blood, whispering of blackness and violence.

She won’t tell you unless you make her.

Wasn’t it my right to know everything about her? I had blood on my hands for her—the least she could do was talk to me—let me inside her soul.