The meeting was over, and I'd sell my soul to Satan himself for the chance to gouge out my own eyes and not see these moronic, incompetent fucks ever again.
How hard was it to move a single goddamn shipment? One. Just one. But no, these brain-dead, spineless sons of bitches managed to screw it up. Again.
Kyle should be here, not rotting in Italy playing Anya's bodyguard. At least he had a spine.
I nodded like their stupidity wasn't burning holes in my skull, signed the damn papers, issued orders they'd probably fuck up by next morning, and watched them bow their heads like obedient little sheep. Puppets, every last one of them. My puppets. Soon, I'd change the Syndicate and Russian parliament.
And yet, despite all this, despite the molten rage simmering just beneath my fucking skin-she was there.
In my head.
Always her.
My little bird had officially fucked with my head and I for the very first time didn't know what to do.
It was fucking infuriating. Like some goddamn ghost haunting every corner of my mind. I couldn't shake her, couldn't burn her out no matter how hard I tried. She was a parasite, leeching her way into thoughts that had no business belonging to her.
And the worst part? I didn't even want her gone.
I climbed the stairs with heavy steps, the cold steel railing biting into my palm as I gripped it tighter than necessary. My teeth clenched, my jaw aching with the effort to keep the fire in my chest from exploding.
I needed a damn black coffee. I wouldn't last next meeting without killing a man or two.
What the fuck had she done to me?
I could kill a man without blinking. Snap a neck before breakfast and eat like nothing happened. But her? She looked at me, breathed near me, and suddenly, I was unhinged.
Just as I stepped down the stairs, the faint sound of her breathing pulling my attention like a goddamn magnet.
And there she was.
Sprawled on the plush carpet in middle of the lobby, looking like she hadn't a care in the world. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm and I felt my body stiffening. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the faint light like a halo.
And then I saw it.
A ball of fur on her chest.
I narrowed my eyes.
What was a fucking dog doing here? How the fuck did it come inside?
My hand tightened around the railing until I swore I felt it bend beneath my grip.
Jealousy-hot, black, and suffocating-clawed its way up my throat.
What the hell was this? Some stray? Some mangy mutt she'd decided was worthy of her time, her touch, her goddamn affection? And not me? She had been giving me cold shoulder. I thought maybe if I gave her enough time, she'd adjust but how wrong I was? The only thing I got from her was her shattering voice and tearful eyes.
My jaw ticked.
She shifted in her sleep, her fingers brushing the dog's fur, and something inside me snapped. I wanted to tear the thing away from her, throw it out into the cold where it belonged. Wanted her eyes on me, her touch on me.
Not on it.
Fuck.
It didn't take me long to reach her.
I crouched at her side. The dog stirred, lifting its head to meet my gaze, and for a split second, I considered what it would take to snap its tiny neck.
Her breathing hitched, and she shifted again, a faint murmur escaping her lips. "Judas…"
My name.
It wasn't loud. Wasn't clear. But I heard it.
And Satan help me, it destroyed me.
She had no fucking idea what she was doing to me. No idea that she'd dug her claws into something raw and primal, something that had been dead for years.
She had no idea that she owned me. And I didn't want to deny it.
She had attached herself into my blood in a way I didn't know if I was breathing air or her.
I reached out as my hand hovered above her cheek. So close. Too close.
Her skin looked soft, warm, untouched by the cold, untainted by the darkness that lived in me.
I wanted to ruin it.
To stain her with my filth, to claim her in a way that left no doubt she was mine.
Mine.
Neither she remember herself, nor do I remember myself.
I was a monster, and monsters didn't belong in daylight, but fuck if I wasn't ready to drag her into my darkness.
I let my fingertips graze her cheek, and the softness of her skin seared me. It burned, not like fire, but like acid, eating away at everything that made me human. She stirred under my touch, her breath hitching, and I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs like it wanted to crawl out and throw itself at her feet.
She would never know.
She didn't know how her presence annihilated me. How her silence creamed louder than a thousand fucking wars in my head. How every breath she took felt like a gift I didn't deserve, but I'd fucking steal it anyway.
Her skin. Fuck, her skin.
I trailed my thumb down to her jaw, barely a whisper of contact, and the insanity clawing inside me sharpened. I wanted to mark her. To bite. To bruise. To bury my teeth into her and leave reminders that she wasn't hers anymore. She wasn't the world's. She wasn't even God's.
She was mine.
The dog whimpered, shifting again, and my glare snapped to it. For a moment, I hated the little bastard with a force that felt inhuman. Hated that it got to be there, resting against her heart, while I stood on the outskirts of her reality, pretending not to want what was already mine.
"Fucking mutt," I muttered under my breath and he whimpered before curling into her chest again.
My gaze slid back to her, and the anger melted into something worse. Something I didn't have a name for. I leaned closer, my breath ghosting over her temple as my thumb traced the curve of her jaw.
She was burning every fucking particle in me. Every atom.
My lips hovered near her ear, and for a moment, I thought about waking her. About whispering all the dark, twisted things that churned inside me when I looked at her.
But I didn't.
Because she deserved more than this fucked-up wreckage I was. More than the poison I carried, the blood on my hands, the violence that lived in my veins.
And yet…
The thought of her without me or was it me without her-of her smiling for someone else, touching someone else, breathing someone else's air-made me want to level the world.
I wanted to flow in her.
I dragged my fingers through her hair, marveling at how soft it was, how easily it slipped through my grasp. Everything about her felt like a trap. A beautiful, deadly trap, and I was stepping into it willingly.
I stood slowly, my hand lingering on her cheek for a moment longer than it should have. The dog stirred again, but this time, I ignored it. My gaze locked on her face, on the curve of her lips, the flutter of her lashes against her skin.
She didn't belong in my world. She should've been untouched by the violence, the chaos, the filth.
But I'd drag her into it anyway.
Because I couldn't stop. Because she was the only thing in this frozen hellscape that felt alive.
And fuck the world if it tried to take her from me.