Page 37 of The Sinner’s Touch (Manwhore #2)

The bedroom door opened, and he walked in carrying a kettle, the kind you used to boil water to make tea.

Steam rose from the spout. What was he going to do with that?

Her eyes followed him as he walked over to the closet and took out an iDock.

He plugged it in then settled his phone in it.

A moment later, the slow, sultry sound of Twenty One Pilots’ Heathens filled the air.

It was a song she’d listened to on repeat many times.

She’d found it soothing before, but now a sense of dread settled over her.

“Hello, my angel.”

His voice was deep, cultured. Upper class.

He was only wearing a pair of light denim jeans, faded and worn in places.

His muscles rippled as he moved. The man worked out.

He didn’t have the same stealthy grace Kade did, but it was close.

Each movement was calculated, unnerving.

She found it sexy as hell when Kade did it, but in this man, it terrified her.

Setting the kettle on the empty bedside table, he sat next to her. His eyes were blue again. Contacts. He’d been wearing contacts. Their icy depths were calmer than before. The anger was gone. Only anticipation remained.

“How are we coming along? Feeling back yet?” Grasping her shoulders and hips, he turned her on her stomach, and his hand ran up and down her back. She forced herself to stay still, to not react in any way.

“No? You wouldn’t be playing possum, now, would you, my angel?

” She watched in horror as he opened the drawer on the nightstand and took out a knife.

It reminded her of a hunting knife, but the hilt was different.

It looked like some elaborate dagger. The tip of the blade ghosted down her arm and back up, along her shoulders.

She swallowed. He pressed the tip in deeper when it met the soft flesh between her shoulder blades. Angel clenched her teeth, fighting the cry that wanted to escape. He scooted farther down the bed, the knife tracing along her hip, over her ass cheeks, down her legs to the backs of her thighs.

“Nothing yet?” he murmured.

Searing pain jolted through her, and she screamed. Her head twisted to see he’d pushed the blade straight through her foot. He twisted it, making her cry out. More pain arched up her leg when he slid the blade out.

“That’s what I thought.” He gave her a satisfied nod. “You see, my angel, when you play along like a good girl, it won’t hurt as much. I like to hear your screams. When you don’t give it all to me, you only cause me to inflict more pain than necessary.”

Crazy bastard. She wanted to spit at him, but fear held her still. Don’t antagonize him .

“Such beautiful, pale, alabaster skin.” He leaned down and placed tiny kisses along the backs of her legs.

He sat up and ran his hands along her thighs, cupping her ass when he reached it.

He pulled them away, and a hard slap hit first one cheek then the other.

She whimpered at the pain. “Ah, there you go, my angel. Let me hear you.” He rained down several more slaps against her ass, each one harder than the last, and she cried out with each one.

She sobbed, tears and snot mingling.

“Look at how pretty your skin is, all pink and just waiting to be touched.” His fingers slid between her butt cheeks, fingering her anus, before dipping down farther, parting her folds.

He found her clit and rubbed it. “So warm, my angel. Soon my cock is going to be buried inside you. Do you want that? Won’t it feel good when I take you? ”

She whimpered and buried her head in her pillow. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it, bringing her head up. “No. You will watch what I do to you, do you understand?”

Angel nodded, and he released her hair. “Lay your head down, turn it to face the mirror, and if I see your eyes closed, I will remove your eyelids so you can’t look away. Am I clear?”

Her eyes widened, and she whispered, “Yes.”

When she complied, he resumed rubbing slow circles around her clit and reached for the kettle. “There is such joy in pleasure and pain. Your skin is going to make the perfect canvas for my art.”

She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the mirror.

She watched as he tipped the kettle toward her, watched as a slow stream of boiling water fell.

When the first drops hit her back, she froze, but as more fell, she arched, trying to get away from the searing pain.

He continued to pour the water over her back, her shoulders, her ass, her legs. All the while, he fingered her.

When the kettle was empty, he set it back down and removed his hand.

“Look at that.” He traced all the red burn marks on her back.

“It’s about patterns, my angel. The water never takes the same path twice.

The chaos theory. It never lets me down.

” He slapped her ass again. “I think you’re ready to be fucked, my angel.

Your skin is all pink, a perfect canvas. ”

He stood and unbuckled his belt then undid the fly on his pants. She watched as the pants hit the floor and he kicked them to the side.

No. No. No .

The bed dipped, and he positioned himself behind her. “Eyes open!”

She blinked them open and tried to look anywhere but at the man behind her. She felt the tip of him against her. “Ready, my angel?”

A siren wailed, just loud enough for them to hear it, and he stilled. When it didn’t stop, he jumped up, cursing, and stalked toward the other room. A wave of relief washed over her. Thank you, God .

He was back a moment later, the siren’s low wail gone, and rage flashed like a lighthouse beacon in his eyes.

“We have company. Fuckers set off the motion alarm.” He opened the nightstand and pulled out some kind of gag and proceeded to stuff the ball into her mouth and tie it behind her head.

“To keep you quiet, love. Can’t have you alerting the cavalry. ”

It had to be Kade. He found her.

But how? He hadn’t been able to find any of the other girls.

Maybe it wasn’t him?

Maybe it was some random person looking around, or maybe they had car trouble.

But if it was Kade, he didn’t know the crazy bastard was aware of his presence.

He picked up his knife and stood behind the door.

Whoever it was, they were coming inside.

He put a finger to his lips and winked. If it was Kade, there was no way the serial killer was getting away.

He had to know that. Maybe he did and just didn’t give a fuck.

He’d hurt whoever came through the door first.

And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it.