THERE’S nothing more beautiful than seeing her fall.
You know that moment when human beings lose all hope? When doors slam in their face and they just…drop?
That’s what Reina does. Even her fall is graceful. She fought, I give her that. She screamed and wailed. She cried and kicked.
But no amount of tears will get her out of my mind.
She’s already trapped. She’s already done for.
I stand above her unmoving body. She fainted on the ground, eyes screwed shut and some of her mascara smearing over her pale cheeks. Both her hands still cover her ears as if she can stop the voices from barging in.
I crouch beside her and stroke a blonde strand behind her ear. Her lower lip twitches and I give in to the urge to touch those lips, to run my thumb along them.
They’re soft, full, and begging for my dick between them.
As if reading my mind, they slightly part. I groan deep in my throat.
Sex appeal.
Something Reina has in spades and uses to her advantage every chance she gets. I thought I was immune, but I’m not.
Because right now, I want to strip her bare and fuck her raw.
She’s getting under my skin again. She can’t get under my fucking skin.
I place a hand over her closed eyes and the other over her nose and mouth, cutting off her breathing.
Her lifeline.
The only things keeping her in this world.
This could end now.
Everything will be over. I’ll get what I want and she’ll get what she deserves.
Her slender body bucks off the floor due to the lack of oxygen. Her nails claw at my arms and her legs kick with the ferocity of life.
As much as she sometimes hates this life, she sure as fuck fights for it.
She’s a fighter, Reina. A survivor—but that won’t last for long.
Kill her.
Now.
I close my eyes and slowly remove my hand from over her mouth. Her gasp for air is choked and unrestrained, as if she’s been dying and is now coming up for air.
She doesn’t deserve such an easy death.
Not yet.
Her body slumps back down and her arms fall on either side of her.
A commotion comes from the other side of the door.
I stand up and memorize her broken form, committing it to memory.
“It’ll all be over soon,” I say. “It’ll all be over.”
