His head turned with the slap but when he looked back at me, it wasn’t anger I saw.
It was hunger and something far more dangerous.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
He grabbed my wrist before I could pull away. “You think this is a game?”
“No,” I said. “I think you’re afraid you liked it.”
His grip tightened and something shifted in the air between us. Like a veil burning.
“You don’t know what you’re playing with, Liliane.”
“Neither do you. Have you completely crossed over?” I asked.
It was him. Adrien. All this time it had been him stalking the corridors of my dreams and making me wet from the friction of our hate and twisting my fury into fuel and pulling pleasure from the shadows I refused to touch.
“Not yet,” he said. “Is that what you really want?”
“You tor
