The predator

She was trembling, skin hot, feverish. Weak.

Despicable.

Yet she clung to me as though I was the only thing tethering her to this fucking world. My lips pressed against her pulse point, slow, deliberate. Her body, that delicate little thing, responded. It always did. And it always would. I would make sure of that.

It amused me. The fear in her eyes mingled with something else. Submission, maybe. Or was it a fractured will, too broken to resist?

Didn't matter.

It just made me want to trace the edge of her jaw, and I did as my thumb brushed over her soft burning skin. Fragile. Breakable. But that's what I liked about her-what made her so damn... entertaining.

A little bird with clipped wings. She'd never fly away from me, even if she tried.

I dragged the fabric of her dress down, ripping it like tissue paper, exposing more of her. She gasped, a sound that pleased me more than it should have. Weak. All of them were weak. But her weakness stirred something in me, something primal.

Not that I cared.

I didn't care about her. Not really. She was just... convenient. A distraction. A pawn.

But every breath she'd take, it'd belong to me. I'd break her and she'd thank me for it. Screams that would only caress my ears. Flesh that'd only bleed for me. And eyes… eyes that'd only look for me.

So then, why did I keep coming back?

Not her. Me.

Why did I keep wanting to come back?

This wasn't good.

A muscle in my jaw ticked. Tension crawled under my skin like fire. She dared make me want her. Dared to make me crave her like a fucking addiction. I should've left her to rot. Should've let the fever take her. Should've let those fuckers put their disgusting hands on her and use her.

That's what she was for.

A pawn.

But no.

I was here. With her. Again.

Frustration simmered, bubbling up from somewhere deep and dark. A place I thought I controlled. She dared make me want to kill those motherfuckers again. And again. Until there was nothing left but blood.

Her fear? I liked it. It excited me. Twisted something inside me. Maybe I should let her run. Watch her crumble. Make her crawl back to me. She would. They always did.

But she wasn't like the others. She made me want to come back.

That shouldn't happen. Not to me.

I never get attached. I never feel. I take what I want, when I want it, and leave.

But not with her.

I should kill her. Right now. It would be easy. So easy to snap her neck while she was trembling in my arms. Watch the life drain from her eyes. Feel her slip away.

But the thought of losing her... it pissed me off.

Why? Why did I want to keep her alive? Keep her here?

She made me angry. Angry that I couldn't forget the sound of her voice. The way she looked at me. The way her body responded to me even when she was terrified. The way she looked. And fuck. Was I hard again?

Red was definitely her colour.

It drove me fucking insane.

I didn't care about her. I couldn't.

She was nothing.

But the pull... the pull was there. Twisting. Demanding. I wanted her. I wanted to hear her scream my name again. To see her break. To own her. Body. Mind. Soul.

She was mine. She just didn't know it yet.

And I'd make sure she never forget.

Her soft whimpers dragged me into the reality. And I realised my grip on her neck was tightening. Eyes wide opened, staring into me, drool on corner of her mouth, rosy lips painted in red smudged all over cheek. And tears.

It didn't stop me from leaning down and licking the salty pearls.

Even though I had tied her to the bed, completely at my mercy. And fuck, did that thrill me. The control, the power. I always had control. I always took what I wanted, and I wanted this.

Her.

Even if I despised admitting it.

I brushed my lips over her bare skin, inhaling her scent. Blood. Fear. Desire. All of it tangled together, a cocktail mixed just for me. How sweet. How tempting. It drove me to the edge of something dangerous-something I refused to name.

Love? No. Never.

Judas Romanovski never love.

This was control. Power. I didn't love her. I craved the way her body trembled under me. The way she melted into my touch, even when she should be running in terror.

How pathetically predictable.

And yet, here I was.

On the edge. Dangerously close to something more than just want. It was something much darker.

Much more fun.

"Relax, little bird," I whispered, feeling the tremors in her body. She was terrified. She should be. Yet there was that spark in her, that flicker of something defiant. That's why I couldn't break her. Not fully. Not yet.

Not until I decided.

I positioned myself between her legs again, her skin was burning against mine, and for a split second, I paused. She made a sound, half whimper, half gasp, her body arching against me. She didn't know what she was asking for. What she was tempting.

I should have hated her. I did hate her. Right?

I didn't care about her pretty face, or those curves that drove me insane. Fuck, I didn't. She was just another woman. Just another body to use. To ruin.

So why did she get under my skin? Why did this feel different? Or maybe it was the realisation I wouldn't be getting this cunt back in Italy for few weeks.

A let a slow grin crept onto my face at the thought, and I leaned closer, my breath hot against her neck.

"Do you feel me inside you, ptichka?" I whispered.

Her body stiffened beneath me, but she said nothing. Good. Silence was better. I preferred it that way.

I slid inside her, slow at first, feeling her tense, hearing her sharp intake of breath. And it stirred something inside me. Something darker, more twisted than I was used to. I didn't just want her body. I wanted to consume her. Devour her.

Possess her.

She whimpered again, and I chuckled.

It didn't make sense.

I didn't get attached. I never got attached. Women came and went, disposable, forgettable. They were fun for a night. But her? She was like a splinter under my skin, and no matter how much I tried to ignore it, she stayed.

I hated her for that.

She wasn't special. She was not. I could replace her in a heartbeat.

But I hadn't. And that annoyed me more than anything. Why was I still here? Why hadn't I thrown her away like all the others?

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy, lost in fever, but they locked onto mine. There was fear in those pretty eyes, but there was something else, too. Something that made my blood heat, something that made me want her.

More than I should.

I drove into her harder, her body arching beneath me, and I watched, fascinated by the way she reacted. She was helpless. And yet she drew me in, deeper and deeper, and I didn't know why.

I didn't care.

Or so I told myself.

I kept telling myself that as I felt her tighten around me, as her breath hitched, as she whispered my name, barely audible but enough to send a dark thrill through me.

Everyone who knew me knew I never make moves without calculations. Killing five of the members of the high table with more worth than her was not a 'me thing' to do.

However, it seemed I was sarificing that part of me-the logical, calculative one-for her.

But I wasn't sure if I believed my own lie anymore.

I pulled her closer, my fingers tangling in the bow that still adorned her chest.

A mark of control. A symbol of what she was to me. Mine.

For now. For as long as I wanted her.

Until I grew bored.

And I wonder if I'd ever be.

I shook the thought from my mind, pressing my lips to her skin, tasting her, feeling the heat of her flesh against my mouth. She was burning up even more.

Out of her mind.

And maybe, just maybe, so was l.

But I didn't care.

I couldn't care.

I was Judas Romanovski. I ruined lives. I didn't get attached. And she was just another life waiting to be ruined.

Wasn't she?

As soon as I finished inside her, I made a mental note to bring her pills. My little bird asked something from me and it'd be shame if I keep her hanging. Wouldn't want her carrying any surprises. Not yet, anyway. Though, the thought did amuse me. Her with my bastard in her belly?

I grinned.

Wouldn't that piss her off more?

She was still trembling beneath me, chest rising and falling like she'd run a goddamn marathon. I breathed out, feeling that familiar satisfaction coil inside me, the thrill of knowing I had her right where I wanted her. She panted, trying to find words, but all that came out were these soft, desperate little noises.

Fuck, I loved those sounds.

I reached for a cigarette on the nightstand, lighting it up as I watched her come down. Her eyes rolled back, body limp, like I'd fucked her right out of existence. She tried to say something, but her lips barely moved.

I smirked. "What was that, Fenochka? Can't hear you over the sound of you losing your mind."

She swatted at me weakly, and I laughed roughly and took a drag and blew the smoke into the air, leaning back on the bed like I owned the world.

Hell, I did.

I glanced down at her again, noticing the way she still clung to the sheets, body twitching like she wasn't quite done. Cute. Really fucking cute.

"Still alive down there?" I teased, tapping ash into the tray.

Her hand hit my arm, but it was a lazy, half-hearted slap, and I just laughed harder. She was definitely drunk too. Did she drank more than two glasses of wine? If not, where that courage came from.

"That's what I thought. Should I call the coroner?"

She groaned, finally managing to open her eyes, and I could see the fire in them. Even after l'd wrecked her, she still had that spark.

"You… you are a brute…" she muttered again.

I chuckled darkly. "Can't help it, sweetheart. You make it too damn easy."

I leaned down, brushing my lips against her ear. "Now, be a good girl and let me clean you up. Maybe, if you're lucky, l'll let you beg for it again later."

She glared at me, but the heat in her eyes only made me harder.

I watched her struggle to sit up, her limbs barely cooperating, her body still trembling. She looked like she'd been hit by a damn truck-my truck-and I fucking loved it.

"Come on, baby," I smirked as I grabbed her limp body and threw her over my shoulder. She let out a weak protest, her hands slapping my back, but it was pathetic. Hell, she could barely lift her arms.

"Put me down, you monster!" she grumbled under her breath, her words slurred from the wine and the aftershocks of what I just did to her.

"Keep talking like that and I might drop you," I teased, giving her ass a firm squeeze. Her breath hitched, and I grinned, feeling the heat surge through me again.

I carried her to the bathroom, her body swaying in my arms, and gently set her down on the cold tile. She wobbled, barely able to stand, so I kept a firm grip on her hips, pressing her back against me. She was all soft curves and warm skin, still flushed from the way I fucked her senseless.

I turned on the shower, the steam already rising, and slid my hand down her stomach, fingers grazing the place between her thighs. She shuddered, leaning into me, but her grumbling didn't stop.

"Stop it," she muttered. "Always... think you can get away with everything."

I chuckled, dark and low, as I pushed her under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over her skin. "Get away with everything? Baby, I do get away with everything."

Her body jerked at the touch of the water, but I kept her steady, my hands roaming, caressing, slipping down to places I knew would make her squirm. Her breath hitched again, but she gritted her teeth, trying to act like she wasn't enjoying it.

"Screw you," she hissed, but there wasn't much fight behind it.

I might have felt little offended but from her mouth I'd hear anything.

"Screw you?" I slid my fingers lower, feeling her hips buck against me. "Doesn't feel like you want that, Fenochka. Seems like your body has other ideas."

She clenched her jaw, but the way her thighs trembled, the way her hands weakly gripped my arms, told me all I needed to know. I slid my fingers deeper, slow and torturous, just to watch her lose the last bit of control.

"Judas…," she whispered, her head falling back against my chest.

"That's it," I murmured against her ear. "Just let me clean you up, baby." My hand moved between her legs, deliberately slow, feeling her pulse and shudder beneath my touch.

"Shut... up," she gritted out, her voice weaker than her words.

I laughed again, loving every second of this. Her fire, her insults, her pathetic attempts to pretend like she wasn't begging for more.

"Not going to happen," I growled, pressing her tighter against me. "You'll be begging for me again soon enough."

She groaned, barely able to keep her feet under her, her hands reaching for the shower wall to brace herself. And fuck, watching her like that-dripping wet, body limp but still responding to every goddamn touch-I was already hard again.

"You're fucking insane," she managed between shaky breaths.

I grinned against her neck, nipping at her skin. "And you love every second of it."