Page 73

SEVENTY-THREE

XERO

I should wring Amethyst’s neck, but she’d probably switch into that altered state again and take out my eye. My balls still throb from the pummeling she gave them whilst in the throes of her nightmare.

At least I understand why she lives so far away from her family and best friend. Amethyst Crowley is a time bomb with a faulty counter. She can hulk out when you least expect.

It makes me wonder if whoever’s out to kill her knows about these episodes. That’s the only reason they’d send a quartet of men after a small woman who lives alone.

After injecting the sedated intruders in the basement with a reversal agent, I secure their restraints and walk up the stairs. By now, Amethyst should have finished her breakfast or be prepared to face punishment.

Either option is fine. I owe her for what she did to my face. If I hadn’t caught her in time, she might have taken out my eye.

I walk into her bedroom, prepared for anything, including another attack. Ropes aren’t the most secure of restraints, but she was already exhausted by the time I managed to pin her to the bed.

She’s sitting up, resting her back against the headboard, looking breathtaking. Her face is a perfect oval, with large green eyes infused with flecks of gold, framed by thick black lashes that make her look like a doll. A pink flush colors her cheeks, matching the fullness of her lips. And the way her two-toned hair frames her face makes her look like the Norse goddess of death.

My gaze travels down the pink camisole that hugs her perfect breasts and skims the contour of her waist. The mere knowledge that beyond this pretty little exterior lies a monster is more than a man like me can resist.

When I ended up at the wrong house and discovered the extent of her deception, I thought everything about her was fraudulent. I wondered if the story about her music teacher had been a lie—until I saw her plunge that knife into her attacker’s neck.

Observing her reaction to being haunted was arousing, and tormenting her made me harder than I’d ever been before. I’m addicted to her terror, obsessed with her screams. I can’t get enough of my murderous little ghost.

“Are you just going to stand in that doorway like a stalker?” she asks.

“Did you eat your breakfast?”

“The cereal was soggy.”

“Whose fault was that?” I snap.

She tosses her head. “Yours for not reassuring me you weren’t a poisoning psycho.”

Bristling, I stalk toward my little ghost, causing her to shrink against the headboard. Her nipples tighten and push against the lace fabric, fueling my desire to tear it to pieces.

“Ready to face your punishment?” I ask.

Her pretty eyes widen. “What for?”

“You know why.” I swipe her phone to the floor, snatch the tray off her lap, and place it on the nightstand.

“But I ate the toast,” she says.

“Not good enough.”

I pull back the covers and grab her shin, only for her other foot to fly toward my head. The rope stops her from kicking, making her cry out in frustration.

“Don’t touch me,” she screams.

“I thought you wanted to be untied.”

“Not to get punished, and I don’t want to kill those men. ”

“Why not?” I snarl and untie her first leg. “They planned on doing worse to you.”

“Because I’m not a killer.”

I pause to stare at the woman writhing on the bed, my jaw dropping. “You’ve killed at least two men. From the way your mother speaks, it’s possibly more.”

“What do you know about my mom?” She kicks out with her free leg.

“Have you forgotten that I stood over you while you made that frantic phone call about the man you killed?”

Scowling, she screws up her lips, having been caught in a lie. “My mom is prone to exaggeration.”

My brows rise. “And you’re more deluded than I thought.”

“Are you making fun of my hallucinations?”

I clench my jaw. “That was a figure of speech. You’re lying to yourself if you think the music teacher and the man in the missing posters are your only victims.”

She jerks her head to the side, trying to avoid my scrutiny. “I suppose you’re an expert on murder.”

“Yes.” I take hold of her dainty foot, untie her ankle, and draw back before she kicks me in the face. “Keep attacking me, and the punishments will escalate.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me dead.”

“No woman ever died from a spanking,” I reply.

She shifts on the mattress, her cheeks reddening, her expression finally showing traces of the woman who captured my heart. The delicate soul with a dark past instead of the belligerent little berserker with a fetish for crushing my balls.

I walk around the bed to untie her wrist, and I’m surprised when she doesn’t lash out. That doesn’t mean she isn’t waiting for the right moment to strike.

By the time I reach her other hand, she’s thrumming with excitement. I grab her chin and force our eyes to meet. “Don’t even think about it.”

Her lips press into a thin line, but she manages to give me a nod. I release her last restraint and step back in anticipation of an attack, but she pulls her pretty thighs together and swings them to the edge of the bed .

“Thank you,” she mutters, her curls falling over her face. “Will you excuse my punishment if I eat the soggy cereal?”

“Turn around and pull down your shorts,” I say.

Her gaze darts to the door and she bites her lower lip, looking like she’s trying to measure the odds of a successful escape. Then she gives her head a gentle shake, perhaps remembering how I caught her last night with little effort, and rises off the bed.

With trembling fingers, she reaches for the waistband of her shorts. My heart kicks up several notches, and heat rushes to my cock. I hold still, not showing even the barest trace of excitement as she turns around, treating me to a view of her sinfully rounded ass.

The skin beneath the silk fabric is creamy and unblemished, and it takes every effort not to reach out and touch my property. I have to remind my cock she’s undressing for her punishment, not for my enjoyment, but the thirsty bastard still lengthens and thickens.

I thought Amethyst was beautiful, but from behind, she’s exquisite, and I’m not just talking about how she looked in the graveyard when I pounded her into the dirt. Her legs are shapely, her waist tiny, and the curls cascading down her narrow shoulders only enhance her feminine silhouette.

She hesitates before lowering her shorts and glances at me over her shoulder with a heated gaze. My cock wants to believe it’s lust, but there’s no denying she’s pissed. Women like Amethyst know they can coast through life with their beauty, but I’ve never been one to fall for a pretty face.

“I can’t do it,” she says, her voice trembling.

“Would you like me to put you over my knee?”

She shivers. “Alright.”

Fuck. After last night’s frenzy, I expected some resistance, but this submission has me weak at the knees.

I lower myself onto the mattress, the springs groaning under my weight. My erection presses painfully against my zipper, and I suppress a moan.

Finally, I have my good girl who used to warm my heart on cold mornings with her heated words. She’ll fall in line after this round of spanking, then we’ll interrogate the men downstairs and fuck in a pool of their blood.

“Come here.” I gesture for her to come closer.

“Spank this.” She snatches the bowl, tosses its contents in my face, and bolts toward the door.

“Fucking hell!” I lurch after her, half-blinded by the spray of cereal and milk.

By the time I reach the door, she’s already grabbing the bannister, her light steps turning into panicked stomps as she barrels down the stairs.

Amethyst Crowley is a creature of many personalities, and I’m not liking this uncooperative version of her one bit.

Cursing under my breath, I give chase and hurdle over the banister to where she’s reached the bottom of the stairs.

She charges toward the front door, screaming like she’s trying to open the gates of hell, but I’m faster. Grabbing her from behind, I wrap an arm around her waist and jerk her back against my chest.

“Let go of me, you murderer!” she yells at the top of her voice. “Help?—”

I clamp a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream. As she gasps and flails and kicks, I lean into her ear and snarl, “Are you trying to get me arrested?”

The vicious little ghost has the nerve to nod.

“Nice try, but the cops already moved out of number 11, and Mrs. Baker in number 15 knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

She clamps her teeth around my finger, but the pain goes straight to my cock and only makes me groan. “Keep struggling. I didn’t lay a finger on you last night when you were having that little episode, but today, I want to fuck a wildcat.”

Amethyst falls limp in my arms and doesn’t struggle when I lead her into the living room and take a seat on her sofa.

Laying her across my lap, I run a hand over her rounded ass. “I was going to give you four spanks for not eating your cereal. How many do you think you deserve for throwing it in my face?”

“Get off me, you psycho!”

I grab her hair and pull it back to meet her defiant eyes. “Is that the way to speak to the man keeping you alive? ”

She laughs, the sound hysterical and shrill. “There’s a word when a killer ties a woman to a bed and scares her half to death, and it isn’t alive.”

Heat flares through my veins at her audacity. “You little brat. There’s only so much ingratitude a man can take before he snaps.”

“Let me go.” She squirms on my lap, rubbing that delectable little body against my cock.

Frustration wells in my gut. If she were any other woman, I’d rise off the sofa, watch her fall to the floor, walk the fuck out of number 13 Parisii Drive, and leave her to her fate.

But she isn’t.

She captured my heart for the entire time I was in captivity, and showed me her vulnerabilities. Made me fucking care. I devoured her manuscripts and tasted her soul. I read her letters and inhaled her heavenly scent. And after lights out, it was her images in my mind and her musk in my nostrils when I stroked my cock to oblivion.

Amethyst has made me her captive in a prison based on pretty lies. That’s not something I can easily forgive.

“Six,” I say.

“What?” she squawks.

“You can accept six spanks or twelve.”

“Why don’t you bend over, and I’ll give you twenty-four.” She grabs the arms of the sofa and tries to launch herself up, but I pin her down with a forearm over her shoulders.

I should be furious at her audacity, but her pretty little ass wriggles from side to side, like the most potent form of temptation. Gritting my teeth, I force back a wave of desire.

“Tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass.” I shove down her silk shorts, exposing her pert little buttocks.

An almighty crash echoes from below.

She stiffens, her body going rigid. “What was that?”

“The men who attacked you last night are trying to escape,” I mutter. “Let’s get this spanking over with, so we can kill them together before they call for reinforcements.”