Page 7 of Love and Death (Tempting the Fates #4)

And yet … I frown, discomfort and uncertainty welling up within me over the wrongness of my actions.

What am I doing?

Thick fog swirls through my mind as I try to remember, try to cling to any semblance of right and wrong.

Each kiss draws me closer to the edge. Closer to losing myself. Closer to losing ...

Why can’t I remember?

It isn’t until Cerberus’ hand hooks behind my thigh and lifts it high up over his hip to grind himself against me, with nothing but a few thin layers of fabric between us, that I am jolted back to my senses …

And I finally remember what my body has been so desperate to make me forget, much to my shame.

Death .

Clarity returns to me as my thoughts fill with him, and though my body continues to fight me, I know my heart still belongs to him.

It will always belong to him.

I am not so weak that I will allow myself to continue to dishonor his memory. I will not give in to whatever hellish power this is. Not here, not like this, and certainly not with the likes of Cerberus.

I drop my hand from his hair and push hard against the hellhound’s chest, struggling to free myself before I can succumb to another lapse in judgment … but he’s far too heavy, his hold on me too tight.

I dig my nails into Cerberus’ chest with newfound resolve and forcefully break the kiss, tilting my head to the side in an effort to escape him.

“Tell me you would have me.”

“No,” I gasp through agonizing pain, even as his fingers tighten around my thigh to pull me closer. “I don’t want this.”

“Liar,” he whispers gruffly, his voice raw as his lips brush against my jaw, and I shudder as the sharp lines of pain blur once more into pleasure.

No.

This isn’t right.

“Cerberus, stop!” I hiss, a fresh wave of rage and disgust tearing through me, new and raw like an open wound.

Almost instantly, his body goes rigid.

Cerberus blinks several times, his lips still hovering precariously close to mine as he stares down at me.

His breathing has gone slightly ragged, and I can see the desire still smoldering in the depths of his eyes. But now, it’s mixed with something else—something softer and far more terrifying.

Fear .

His eyes widen as his hands slide from my skin with an almost reluctant slowness, tracing lines of heat that continue to burn long after his touch has gone.

“What the—”

Cerberus stumbles back a step, muttering a string of curses under his breath … and I suddenly realize what I’ve been tasting in his kiss.

Blood .

His lips shimmer in the dim light, thick droplets of deep crimson dripping from them. The hellhound drags his hand over his mouth, smearing the blood across his face and making him look far more beast than man in the process.

He stares down at his shaking hands for a long moment, looking just as shocked and confused as I feel. Then, his gaze shifts back to me. His expression suddenly hardens, anger rushing in to replace the fear within his eyes.

“Damnit!”

He practically spits the words before driving his fist into the wall next to me. The stone cracks under the force, sending a spray of crystal dust across my shoulders and a shockwave of terror through my body.

I flatten myself against the cold wall as I watch him warily.

He looks ... feral.

Agitated.

More dangerous than I’ve ever seen him—and yet, his fury doesn’t seem directed at me. Cerberus’ gaze remains fixed on the floor, his fingers flexing open and closed as if fighting the urge to lash out again.

I feel something trickle down my neck and instinctively raise a hand to wipe it away, just as Cerberus glances back at me.

“No!”

But it’s already too late.

I scream. Excruciating pain shoots through me, white-hot and vicious, the moment my fingertips brush against a tender, still-wet wound just behind my ear.

The room blurs around me as I begin to crumple in on myself.

“Do not touch it!” Cerberus’ voice cuts through the haze of pain, tinged with what almost sounds like panic.

I want to, but I can’t seem to let go.

My knees give way, the agony soaring to a crescendo in the split second before Cerberus catches me in his arms and wrenches my hand from my neck. The pain immediately lessens, even as my eyes widen and my breaths quicken at the amount of blood now coating my fingertips.

“Do not touch it again,” he hisses, hastily righting me before taking a step back.

“Why?” I ask, despite having no desire to do so as the pain numbs to a dull throb.

“Spit,” Cerberus demands, ignoring my question as he reaches out to cup my chin firmly in his hand.

“What?” I ask incredulously.

“Spit, now!” he snaps, his tone startling me into obedience .

I grimace at the sheer viscosity of the liquid that dribbles from my mouth to pool in the palm of his hand before he pulls it away.

Cerberus leans forward, and I watch in disgust as he bares a vicious canine to bite down on his own lip, drawing dark beads of blood that he spits into the palm of his hand to mix with mine.

“What are you do—"

The rest of my question is stolen from me as Cerberus suddenly presses his palm to my neck, smearing the mixture of blood and spittle across my wound, just before his hand bursts into flame.

I cry out in terror, closing my eyes against the tongues of fire that lick up around me, sure that I’m about to be burnt alive …

but then, just as quickly as it flared to life, the fire dies.

The heat turns to a chill as Cerberus drops his hand from me, and I open my eyes.

“What have you done?” I murmur, my voice small, hardly daring to imagine the extent of the damage that’s been inflicted upon me.

“I cauterized the wound. Now, if you value your life, you will say nothing of this … or of what has happened between us. Is that understood?” he says, an urgent edge to his voice, and I quickly nod my head. “ Say it.”

“I understand.”

“Good, now go clean yourself up, and remember … do not touch it again.”

With that, he turns on his heel and strides back across the room, leaving me with just barely enough time to gather a few of my scattered thoughts before he reaches the door .

“And, what of my request?” I call out just as he pulls it open. “What of my father?”

He hesitates, his back still to me as the sooty knuckles of his hand tighten around the heavy door.

“I will see what I can do.”

With that, he ducks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I listen with bated breath as he turns the key in the lock and then steps away, leaving me alone to deal with my pounding heart … and the lingering taste of smoke and shame still bitter on my tongue.