Page 46 of Nightshades

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, and I do my best to hide my big body behind a tree. Lula feels me watching. She’s a good detective and knows when someone is following her. What a fun challenge it will be to stalk her when she has no idea.

“I know you’re here,” she whispers to herself, not knowing I can hear the words breezing from her lips.

Her gaze surveys her surroundings, curious and accusatory, waiting to find the reason for her unease. The wind blows her hair, a few pieces framing her face.

I’m jealous of the way the strands glide across her lips, caressing her cheek in all the gentle ways I’ll never be able to.

I’m not capable of being gentle.

I was created to break and kill.

Not cherish and cuddle.

It’s too bad her soul is tethered to mine. Another man would nurture the good in her, so she becomes the best version of herself. I’ll protect the good she has because it’s the only time I’ll ever get to touch such greatness.

But cherish? I’m not capable.

Her soul is twisted within mine, and the rotten core that pumps my heart will taint hers somehow. All the bad that lives within me will live within her. I won’t let it get to the point where it consumes her.

Pure good deserves to be protected—even from nightmares like me.

“Lula-lala-la-la-laaa.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear, pulling her gun free and aiming it in the direction she thought she heard my song. “Who’s there? Who are you? What do you want?”

What do I want? That’s such a difficult question.

I want her in bed, legs spread, body laid out for me to ravage.

I want her eyes to bleed black while I search for what she fears most.

I want her to scream.

Beg.

Cry.

And then come all over my massive cock while it splits her body in two.

There are so many wants that I’m unsure how to answer her question.

“Lula-lala-la-la-laaa.”

She swings her arms in my direction, another barrel threatening my life again. Fear pours off her in waves, and I inhale, drinking her in, wishing my lungs could taste her the way my tongue can.

“I will shoot you. I have no problem pulling this trigger. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again!” She shouts over the howling gusts that rustle the long branches of the trees.

Holding myself back to stop myself from standing in front of her is difficult. I dig my claws into the trunk of the tree to keep myself in place. I so badly want to taunt her, to beg her to shoot me so she can see that she can do all the bad things she’s ever thought about and inflict them on me.

And I’ll be just fine.

Underneath the perfume of her bravery and fear, there’s that electrifying and shocking scent of lust.

My mate loves to be afraid.

“You’re losing it, Lula. You’re fucking losing it.” She holsters her gun, tucks a few more loose hairs behind her ears, and covers her face. “It’s just the wind. Nothing more.”

“Oh, Lula.” I stare at her, clawing the bark so my control is forever carved into the trunk. “I’m so much more, and that should terrify you.”