Page 16 of Run, Starlight (The Royal Ballet Presents #3)

His words float over my head, but they’re like water seeping through my fingers.

Nothing makes sense to my ringing ears anymore.

My hand shakes until the tight grip I have on the knife loosens, and it drops with a resounding clang between us.

Next, my knees give up the fight, and I drop to the floor, gasping for air on his feet.

“Tell me.” He crouches in front of me.

“I don’t like blood,” I say, hating how pathetic I sound.

He snorts, but I don’t get what’s so funny. “You look like a badass, though.”

I shake my head. I’m not. I’m scared of everything, I’m scared of the new things I’ll fear tomorrow. I can’t rely on my brain. It plays tricks on me. All I have is my feet to dance, that is while my mind doesn’t destroy that too.

“I think you’re in over your head,” he says.

His words weren’t meant to be comforting.

I hear the finality at the end of the sentence.

He feels for me. He thinks I’m stupid. My cheeks burn, and I hate myself for that.

I don’t know why I kept that knife if I’m not strong enough to use it.

The intention that makes the killer, and I just proved to him I have none.

“Tell me how you know him,” I ask, looking down, unable to look at him.

He tsks, “That’s the wrong question to ask. Why aren’t you asking what he wants with you?”

This time, I raise my chin and look at him straight on. “ What difference does it make? The gazelle doesn’t ask why the lion is chasing her. But I want to know how many lions are out there.”

His eyes sparkle with life, and he smirks before suddenly wrapping his hand around my neck. I cough and gasp even though he’s not adding much pressure. He tips my head up, and so I don’t choke, I move with him as he drags me up.

He’s much taller than I am, and when we are like this in front of each other, and his hand is around my neck, I truly understand that my life is in his hands.

His grip changes, just a little tighter than before, his dark eyes follow my reaction, and I’m scared to do anything in case it is the wrong thing.

“What got you so afraid? Anyone hurt you?” His voice is low, almost soothing, and it doesn’t match the hard lines on his face or his hand firmly around my neck.

“My brother,” I blurt out.

Shit. It’s not a secret or anything, it was on the front page of every newspaper when it happened, but I don’t usually talk about it. His grip gets tighter, and he growls.

“No, not like that,” I tell him quickly. “He killed himself in front of me when I was fifteen. The nightmares, the phobias…”

I trail off because I don’t need to connect the dots for him.

I don’t even think I can truly connect the dots because something is truly wrong with me beyond Fabrizio.

I feel it growing inside, infesting each part of me.

Fabrizio’s death was only the catalyst. I can’t blame him for the choices I made.

“You don’t look that delicate.” His thumb caresses the line of my jaw. “When you dance, you look like a force of nature.”

“Have you seen me dance? ”

“You’re a star, aren’t you?”

My stalker called me a star. Suddenly, I don’t think he’s telling the truth.

He’s not some random stranger who came here to warn me off Connor.

His voice hits me, and while different, I know it’s the same guy from the dressing room.

I taste his masculine scent in the air when he steps even closer, and my neck cranes to look at him.

He licks his mouth, and I watch, knowing this is exactly what is wrong with me.

The monster that grows inside me feeds off the dampness between my legs that only this type of man can create.

He looks at me with a devilish expression, and my knees wobble.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, his eyes on my mouth.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck some sense into you.”

Jesus, If he fucks me, it’ll only make it worse.

“I thought you were making sure no one touched me for my stalker.” I grow bolder. His eyes burn over my skin, and I’m feeling good about the attention. “I don’t think you can fuck me.”

“No?” He shakes his head, and his grip on my neck is so tight I gasp.

My legs tremble. I’m flying too close to the sun, taunting a man who is easily three times my size.

But the moments with him flash in my head—the time he watched me getting myself off in my bathroom.

When he asked me to see my pussy in the dressing room.

All the times he could have hurt me, and he didn’t. That has to count for something, right?

My pussy is soaked, and I’m trying to work on the reasons why this is okay.

He has keys to my dorm, yet nothing happened to me.

I don’t know why he needs to pretend he’s not my stalker when he obviously is.

No one is out there watching me like he does, but if he wants to play this game, I can do it too.

“You say he’s possessive,” I whisper with the little air I can gulp. “So why do you think he’ll be okay with you touching me like this? I’m his.”

The words sink right where I want them to, and before I can stop him, his lips are on mine.

His kiss is rough and demanding, and I can barely keep up until he removes his hands from my neck, and I can breathe again.

He lifts me, his hands under my ass and my back hits the wall and I finally can really dive into the kiss.

My tongue wrestles with him. He kisses me like he’s angry.

I know I pushed his buttons, but he wanted this, right?

But I don’t have time to think about that because it all moves fast. He’s hard against me, his cock lined with my pussy, and even through the clothes, he burns.

He tastes like minty chewing gum and energy drinks, and his cologne is woodsy, masculine, and expensive.

His hands carve on my ass as he angles me just right while rubbing his length against me.

Not for a second do I think this is for me.

He’s taking pleasure for himself and using me for that, and the thought makes me crazy.

His teeth sink into my bottom lip, and he growls into me, making me devour his desire.

His mouth is back on mine, feral and impossible, and I bump my head against the wall when he takes my lips.

I feel his hand between us, undoing his buttons.

Rough fingers push my leotard to the side, and he thrusts into me, stretching me to the limit before I have the chance to wonder if this is a good idea.

It’s not. But it’s delicious.

He slams home, hard and not asking for permission, and I tremble in his arms. My mouth falls open because it hurts a little. I’ve never had anyone as big as him, and it doesn’t matter how wet I am, it takes a minute for my body to get used to the invasion.

“You’re so fucking tight, Little Star. You’re going to make me come so good.”

His words run down my spine like chills. I knew he would ruin me if he fucked me. There’s no sense in denying what I’m feeling.

He grabs my chin and brings it up, looking me in the eyes. “Come for me, Marcella. Strangle that cock, my little slut.”

I whimper between his lips. He fucks me harder and faster, and I see stars under my eyelids, pleasure running through my body, and I come around his cock. He grunts and keeps going, letting me milk him until it triggers his own orgasm and his hot cum fills me up.

I’m surprised when he plants a kiss on my forehead, confused by the sudden change in attitude.

“I’m going to protect you from the darkness. You’ll be just fine, Little Star.”