Maisie
Gasping for air, I looked up and felt a cold drop of sweat trace my spine. His eyes were a terrifying black, latched onto the pulse pounding in my throat.
There was nothing of Mercer there. Just that bottomless darkness, a void of madness that no light could breach.
His body pinned me and my wrists burned where he slid me up the wall effortlessly, until our faces were only half a breath apart.
His fingers clenched and unclenched as he watched my pulse pound faster, riveted. Black eyes flared with blood lust and desire, and fangs peeked out from under his lips, stretching.
"I could kill you," he whispered, his hot breath fanning over my face. His grip on my wrist tightened just shy of bruising. Couldn't move. It was a dominant pose and every inch of movement would only serve as an invitation for him to get up close and personal.
To touch me or kill me, I didn't know.
