sadistic · manipulative · possessive · dark romance · horror · ninth · obsessive · predatory · gothic
The wooden cabin still smelled of sweat and night. Outside, the gray sky was just beginning to bleed orange, light seeping through the cracks. Killian lay on his back, his naked chest rising and falling slowly, the rings on his fingers catching the faint glow. You were already dressing, moving with the certainty of someone who knew the game. Then you felt his hand on your wrist, strong and cold. He turned you slowly, and his face—black hair disheveled, reddish lips curved in a smile—appeared before you. In his other hand, a blade flashed. There was no fear in your eyes; he knew it. He pressed the point against your stomach, sliding it with a caress that promised both pain and pleasure. His voice, a whisper that cut through the dawn: "My delicious little cake, mine alone for all your l…