Page 71 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

sixty-six

Soren

Oh, God.

I bit him.

I fucking bit him.

I’ve spent the last year trying to convince the people who are foolish enough to still be in my life that I’m not suicidal. But I must have a death wish, because what I just did is practically beg for him to wrap those big hands around my neck and squeeze.

I let go as soon as I realize my mistake, and Declan withdraws his fingers as soon as I do. But the damage is done.

I didn’t bite him hard enough to draw blood—it was merely an impulsive decision to try and show him I wasn’t going to relent to him entirely. I do, however, see the crescent shape of my teeth imprinted on his knuckles as he holds his hand to the light, inspecting my damage.

Fuck.

When his eyes meet mine, they’re on fire, molten and hot.

I fucked up… big time.

I tense, waiting for his reaction in whatever form it takes—his hand on my ass again, or maybe right across the face this time.

Declan Evers isn’t the sort of man who takes kindly to being disrespected; that’s the whole reason he’s even in my life right now.

But is he the type to hit a woman in his rage?

I accused him of being a murderer, so this wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility.

The terrifying truth is that I don’t know what to expect from Declan Evers, and that is somehow more horrifying than when I thought I’d had him all worked out.

But if he’s not the man who broke into my home and murdered my husband, then I brought him into my life simply by publishing that article about him.

And if that’s true, it means he’s psychotic…

and that I’ve brought all of this upon myself.

An apology sits on the tip of my tongue, bitter as a coffee bean, but I can’t bring myself to let it fall. My pride sits at the top of my throat, in serious danger of choking me on it.

Declan breaks into a slow smile that wars against the heat in his eyes.

The combination serves to make him look manic.

It’s the most frightening I’ve seen him look since he came into my life, and even in all of my research of him.

But I don’t waver, don’t offer any hint of regret other than my own surprise that I really did that.

“I’m glad you did that first.” He says. His words take me by surprise, disarming me so that I don’t even have anything to say in response to that. “Now I won’t feel bad when I use my teeth on you.”

His words make my stomach twist, and while I’m not sure what emotion is causing it, I know it’s not disgust.

My heart hammers in my chest, my palms tingle, and every nerve in my body feels like it’s on fire with his proximity. It doesn’t escape me that he said he wouldn’t feel bad ‘ when’ he uses his teeth on me… not if.

I find my voice enough to squeak his name. I hate how it sounds, pathetic and scared.

“Declan…” I try again.

“No, no,” He shakes his head slowly, leaning down so that our faces are inches apart. For all the control I’m trying to pretend I’ve got right now, I’m still tied to the headboard, completely helpless, and I’m losing feeling in my wrists. “Don’t backpedal, Ren.”

His laugh bursts over my lips; He tastes like coffee and rum, like chaos and composure. It’s an enticing blend of flavors. He’s not kissing me, but sharing the little bit of air that he’s left between us feels strangely intimate.

“I knew you had claws, little kitten, but I wasn’t expecting you to bite.”