She straddled his lap, her scent...roses and cheap lust...filling the room. Her hips moved slightly, teasing, daring. Her lips hovered near his ear.
But Zach’s eyes… were somewhere else. He wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing Diva. The cursed bride in red, her wild eyes, her trembling lips, the chaos she brought into his perfect hell.
Delilah’s hand slid lower, tracing his abdomen, whispering filth in his ear. “Forget her. She’s not like us. You need someone who understands your darkness.”
Zach’s hand shot up and gripped her throat.
“Don’t,” Zach growled, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t f*****g tell me what I need.”
The air in the room cracked like glass. Delilah froze mid-step, her painted lips parting in shock. Zach’s hand wrapped around her wrist, not tight enough to bruise...but tigh
