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“I’m having regrets about waving back at you.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says as I shrug. “Give me a hint?” he quirks.

Nox sits across from me on the bed, the button up shirt of his gore covered policeman’s costume hanging open. He looks good enough to eat, abs on display with the light dusting of chest hair that leads down to his treasure trail. His abdominal welt is healing, fading slowly—the sight of it both cooling and heating my blood. We’ve abstained from sex since the night he came home injured. I told him he needed to heal, and maybe the celibacy would be good for me. My desire for him would outweigh my nerves about getting railed in front of a crowd.

It’s only been a few days since he killed a fellow officer, but he assures me he’s feeling better every day. It’s not like I can force him to go to the hospital given the situation. They are mandatory reporters, and are required to log and report every gunshot and stab wound to authorities. While Lennox is the police captain, he tells me he doesn’t want any of this on paper. I can’t disagree since Jefferds’s absence has been noted and Nox says an investigation is imminent.

Desire sparks inside me as I pull the hatchet from its loop, placing the edge against his sternum, and halting his movements. That abstinence agreement ends now. Maybe just a little foreplay to get my motor running would be okay?

His eyes slowly rise to mine, shock and lust a swirling mix within his irises. “She took an axe, and gave her mother forty whacks…” I recite. Lennox sharply inhales as the blade of the hatchet nicks his skin, a thin line of blood seeping to the surface. “When she’d seen what she had done, she gave her father forty-one,” I whisper.

“Little siren,” his voice cracks as my insides light up at the sight of his blood. A tiny drop leaves a trail down his chest, and I’m mystified by it. Sliding the metal up his chest at a steady pressure has more red running free. “Please,” he groans, pulling my attention back to his face.

“Who am I?” I taunt, watching pleasure swamp his features. Who knew my big, bad Ghost liked blood and pain? Who knew I did?I knew,my subconscious purrs in the back of my mind.Shut up, you loose cannon.

I watch as Nox pushes through his arousal to scour the pits of his brain. “Lizzie Borden,” he pants, hands curling around the backs of my thighs, and pulling me into his lap.

“Good boy,” I say, dropping the small axe to the mattress next to us. I push his back down against the bed, splaying my fingers on his chest and spreading sticky blood over the blank canvas of his chest.

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, writhing beneath me, trying to get some friction against the hard-on in his pants. His green eyes lock with mine as he grabs my wrist, raising my fingers to my mouth. “Taste me,” he demands. Without hesitation, I suck my fingers into my mouth. The metallic tang coats my tongue and infiltrates my senses.

His tattooed fingers press into the cut, bringing more blood to pool in the dip between his pecs. My fingers tingle with the urge to touch it, but I divert to his belt instead, rushing to have him inside me.

So much for just a bit of foreplay.

He bucks his hips, sending me off balance and fallinginto his chest. His warm blood soaks into the fabric of my dress and coats my cheek. Nox works his cock free, sliding my panties to the side, and thrusting into my hot centre.

“Nox, fuck!” I cry against his red, wet flesh. He feels so fucking good, driving himself inside me with ruthless brutality. Our skin slaps together as I bounce in his lap. Turning my head, I lick the blood from his skin.

“You like that, baby?” he groans, sitting me up and pushing me back. My hands brace against his thighs as his piercing hits a spot that makes my eyes roll in euphoria.

“Yes,” I breathe, circling my hips slowly.

“You like having my blood inside you?” he growls as I get lost in the forest of his eyes, whimpering and nodding in agreement. “Just like your blood flows in my veins, pumps through my heart, and binds us in a way no one can undo.”

“Nox,” I breathe, eyes falling shut as emotion creeps up my throat.

“Look at me.” My eyes slowly flutter open as he ensnares my soul with the adoration in his eyes. “You bring me to life, in every way,” he whispers.

It’s too much, again. He’s too good for a broken thing like me. Picking up the axe, I slow the movement of my body on his. “Cut me.” I need it. I need the release. I need to know he’s willing to meet my darkness head on if we’re ever going to have a future together.

His pupils blow impossibly wider as he looks up at me. Wrapping his fingers around the wooden handle, eyes never leaving mine, he gazes into the eye of the storm raging in my heart. A sinister smirk pulls at his lips,and the sight elates me. He’s stepping up to the challenge.

Nox slides the axe from my grip slowly, as his other hand snaps out to wrap around my throat. He rolls us faster than I can register, and the hatchet in his hand thumps into the bed beside my head.

“Want me to cut you, do you?” he says, dragging the blade of the axe down his chest, digging into the laceration I made.

“Please,” I beg.

His blood flows anew, and red runs down his chiseled chest, awakening a ravenous ache between my legs. He groans, low and dark, feeling my desire for him pulse around his cock. I raise my body, reaching up to play with the rivers of crimson on his abs, but his arm snaps out. The blade of the axe meets the sensitive skin of my neck with lethal speed, shocking a gasp from me. With a slight flick of his wrist, a jab of pain shoots to my clit as warm liquid sinks into the high collar of my dress. He cut me.There’s my Ghost.

He watches me with new intensity, gauging my reaction. Clearly liking what he sees as I pant beneath him, he grabs my hand. The cut on my palm from my hand slipping on the utility knife blade is scabbed over and nearly healed, but he drags the sharp axe head through the wound, reopening it. I cry out in pain and pleasure as sweat breaks out across my skin. Pressing my palm into his chest and mixing our blood, he utters, “Now you’ll never be rid of me, little siren. No matter how much you push me out.”

He jabs me right where it hurts, and I don’t think heeven realizes it. I don’t want to push him away, but I can’t very well tell my cop boyfriend I’m a serial killer, can I? Because that’s what I am now, isn’t it? I’ve taken five lives. “Again,” I beg.

He meets my demons head on, not shying away from the sickness brewing inside me. “So hot for pain, aren’t you, my little siren slut?”Holy shit.

“Fuck, yes,” I rasp.