Page 62 of From Hell

A pulse lower down vibrates, and a moan catches deep in my throat.

This is what I want. This is what I need.

I want Jaxon to fuck the devil out of me.

His liquid eyes look directly into mine, a smirk on his lips. “What did I tell you?”

No.

After everything, I didn’t become a killer to let a man dictate what my body does, as though I’m his toy to play with whenever he wants. Like a trigger, I snap, pulling myself together.

I bite him hard.

Jaxon’s smile drops. Automatically, he grabs for my jaw and I turn my head. “Let go of me!” Closing my fist around the blade in my pocket. I slash it at his forearm, his skin blooming red as I cut through his shirt. The smell of pennies stains the air.

He doesn’t release me but curls his fist around my hand with the knife, squeezing until my bones shriek, and tosses my paltry weapon away. “Nice try, but your aim is off.”

Then he closes both hands around my neck.

“If I could reach your eyes, I would have carved them out,” I choke. I don’t sound like myself, either. I sound deranged. But I don’t care. The rage inside me hasn’t done anything to abate the heat spiking through my core.

It’s just made it worse.

“So, youdohave teeth and claws hidden under that delightful exterior?”

“I have more than that,” I hiss, pawing at him.

“Brains, I hope, as well as beauty, to understand when you’re in no position to keep fighting me.” His thumb locks on my windpipe. “The harder you try, the more I’ll press down, Laine.”

His words make sense, so I stop moving, giving him a look of pure hatred instead.

His hands relax slightly, allowing me to gasp. “Good girl. She can follow orders. Now, why are you in here…and don’t lie? I know when you lie.”

“Because the Ripper killed Henry,” I seethe at him.

A muscle in his jaw tenses. “Is that right?”

“You don’t believe me.”

He smirks. “You have a lot of fucked up theories in that head of yours.”

“I need proof. You keep deleting it,” I spit out.

His eyes roll. “I did that to protect you. Berners House is not to be fucked with.”

“You’re blatantly protecting your boys’ club. Why? Because they’re protecting the Ripper?”

Jack’s eyes twinkle like forgotten stars. “Max Lamberton is the Ripper.”

“You would say that. You’re one of them,” I throw at him.

His mouth curves up at the ends. “For some obscure reason, part of me has decided to protect you.” The look he gives burns holes through me, igniting areas of my body I’d long ago given up on. He smiles. “I would think long and hard about accusing members of a prestigious society of being the Ripper. I can only keep you safe for so long.”

“I told you, I don't need protecting.” That makes him chuckle.

“Yes. You do.” He leans close, still gripping my throat, his breath hot on my neck, voice like silk. “From me.”

His hard body pressing against mine makes me squirm. Warmth spreads through my body. It takes everything in me not to rub myself against him like a cat in heat. His lips brush the shell of my ear.