“It’s morning.” He grabs the blanket and I tighten my hold around it. If I let it go, if I fall into his carefully spun web, I’ll never find a way out.

I can smell the scent of his luring, the way he’s carefully bringing me into the midst of his lethal world. First, I saw him kill someone in cold blood, then he allowed me to leave, but even that was calculated. It was a ploy to have me think about him all week long, looking under my bed and out my windows. Locking my doors and checking them several times after. Staring through my damn rear-view mirror, searching for his shadow.

Appearing during a private rehearsal was his way of telling me that he can get anywhere he wants. Find me anywhere I go.

The dinner was also a calculated move to have me loosen up so he could get closer without scaring me shitless. To show me that he’s a normal man who can have dinners and dates.

But there’s nothing normal about him. I never thought he was normal—and I never will. This man is the type who will, without any hesitation, go after what he wants.

And right now, that’s me.

My chin trembles as I keep my solid hold on the blanket. I’m not a fool, I know he could yank it away at any second. Not only is he twice my size, he’s also a killer, someone who’s used to brute force while I’m accustomed to elegance and finesse.

“Did you do all that to fuck me?” I murmur.

“All that?”

“Giving me time. The dinner, the kiss. Not touching me when I was drunk?”

“The dinner was, as I said, to get to know you. The kiss was because I wanted to taste your lips. I didn’t touch you when you were drunk, because I need you present when I’m fucking you. As for your first question, I gave you time to let you cope with the fact that I’m coming for you.”

“I thought you let me go.”

“You’re smart enough to not believe that. During the entire week, you were jumpy, waiting, biding your time until I came back into your life again.”

“You…you were watching me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a stalker?”

“I’m worse, Lenochka, but you already knew that when you touched yourself, showing me a side of you no one has seen.”

“I wasn’t lucid enough to realize what I was doing.” My cheeks heat even as I say the words.

He tsks and I freeze as a muscle ticks in his jaw. “Don’t lie. Not to me.”

My knuckles hurt from how much I’m clenching my fists and I can feel my insides dissolving into itself. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, I can do that will stop him.

If I fight, he’ll overpower me.

If I try to escape, he’ll catch me and probably hurt me.

My only possible option to not get hurt is to play into his hand, to let him have his way and hope that he’ll leave me in peace. That after he gets me, he’ll realize, like everyone else has, that I’m not a keeper.

I’m a diamond others admire from afar, but once they dig into it, all they find is black stone.

Adrian tugs on the blanket. “Let go.”

I dig my nails into it, self-conscious about releasing my only lifeline.

“I’m not going to fuck you.” He pauses. “Yet.”

That doesn’t relieve me as much as it should. If anything, it creates a hollow pit at the bottom of my stomach.

I wish he’d fuck me and get it over with. And since I’m not drunk, I can’t ask that of him.

So I do the one thing I can in my situation.

I let go.

8

Lia

I lie in bed in nothing but my leotard that’s unsnapped at my most intimate part.

Adrian watches me, mechanically at first, as if he has no interest in what he sees. As if I’m a mere object that’s landed in his path.

But if that were the case, why would he want me? Why is he insistent on taking me?

“Do you do this to everyone who witnesses you killing?” I ask to dispel the tension that’s brewing in the air and slamming against my chest.

“This?” His gaze slides to my face for a brief second.

“You know.”

“Are you too much of a prude to name it, Lia?”

“Fucking,” I mutter. “I’m not too much of a prude to speak up when necessary.”

“I’m not fucking you, though.”

“Then what do you plan to do?”

“Something similar.”

“Do you do something similar to fucking with everyone who witnesses your murders?”

“No. I kill them.”

My throat closes at his apathetic tone. He really has no regard for human life, does he? He must think of everyone as collateral pieces of a chessboard that he can get rid of as he sees fit.

He hooks his fingers on the décolletage of my top and pulls it down in one swift go, revealing my naked breasts.

I’m breathing heavily, my fists clenching into the mattress on either side of me. He reaches a large hand toward me, a hand that can throttle me or snap me in two.

I don’t think as I grab it, my smaller palms cradling his in a desperate attempt to stop him from acting on his objective.

It could be because of the feral way he’s staring at my breasts. I don’t like it. But what I dislike the most is how my nipples have instantly peaked into tight buds under his merciless gaze.

Adrian raises a brow but doesn’t force me to let him go, even though he could overpower me in a beat. My hands are wrapped around his, keeping them an inch away from my skin. As we watch each other in a dance of back and forth, I don’t know if I’m fighting him or myself.

Or maybe I’m fighting my terrifying reaction to him. He’s not touching me, but his warmth is creeping under my skin. He’s merely looking at my breasts, but he elicited a shudder from my bones. One that I don’t want to acknowledge, but it’s there, tucked between my heart and ribcage.

All I can think about is how I came while he stroked my nipples over my leotard or how I dreamt about him plunging inside me with increasing roughness.

I don’t want to know what will happen if he actually touches me. That thought is like acid on my nerves—melting, paralyzing, and damn frightening.

But at the same time, I want all of this to end, and the more I deny him, the longer I’ll have to suffer.