Heartless (Starcrossed Lovers Trilogy 1)

Kisses. Hot kisses. Deep kisses.

I wanted them. Oh, fuck, I wanted them.

“Don’t you ever fucking speak to me like that again,” he snarled, squeezing my face in one big hand. “Speak to me like that again, and I’ll cut your filthy fucking tongue out.”

I don’t know what consumed me as I wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn’t know what depths of insanity were possible until I panted into the next round of kisses and rode the pang of desperation for more.

This was doomed. Forbidden. Madness on every level.

“This sure isn’t you killing me,” I managed to hiss, but there was no impudence in my voice this time.

“Plenty of time for that,” he hissed back, and his voice was full of hate, but there was no true venom in it, not to the depths of him. Maybe, just maybe, I’d survive this night.

I should’ve been grateful for the chance to live another day. I should’ve been playing every card in my deck to tempt him to keep me alive, but I wasn’t. Part of me had always wanted to die. Part of me had always wanted to say goodbye to this world, farewell forever.

With another deep kiss, the beautiful monster yanked me away from the countertop and shunted me backwards into the hallway, charging us both through into the darkness of the living room. He threw me down onto the floor so hard I tumbled onto my knees and cursed at him, but that didn’t matter. He got the light and was down on me in a heartbeat, tearing at my dress.

The fabric let out one hell of a rip as it tore right open. He was strong. So damn strong I was just a ragdoll in his arms. I closed my eyes and let him strip me, knowing full well what would be coming.

Wanting what was coming.

I heard him groan under his breath as he tugged my tits free from my bra, seeing just how hard my nipples were straining for his touch. His fingers were savage as they gripped and twisted my flesh, but they didn’t stop there. They slid right down my ribs and over my stomach, hooking into my tattered tights to pull them down.

Oh fuck. My thighs. He’d see my thighs. He’d see the scars.

I bit my lip before he tugged the tights down to my knees, feeling the self-consciousness brewing under the harsh glow of the bulb, even in the face of the mortal terror I should be racked with.

Sure enough, he saw them. Brutal under the overhead light, he saw them.

The cuts were fresh, painful lines over scars. So many scars my thighs were a dance of them. Always high, out of view. Always deep enough to bleed nice and hard.

I’d been hurting myself since I was young, and I needed it. I needed the hurt in my body to free me from the hurt in my head.

“What the fuck–” Lucian began, but he knew when he looked into my eyes. He knew exactly what the fuck was going on with me.

I took hold of my tights and tried to pull them back up, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Why the fuck would you self-harm?” he asked, and I should’ve given him a shrug and kept my silence, since it was none of his damn business, but again, I guess I had the beer and the coke to thank for my loose tongue. The words flowed from my mouth like they’d never done in my life, gushing free with no restraint before I could try to stop them.

“Maybe because I’m a drug addicted failure whose family looks at her with nothing but disgust. Maybe because I hate myself and everything I am and will be grateful if you really do finish me off tonight, since I’m done with all of it.” I took a breath. “Maybe it’s because nobody will ever love me. Nobody will ever really touch me. Nobody will ever let me know what it’s like to have a man fall in love with me for all time. Because they wouldn’t, would they? No man would ever fall in love with a freak like me, even if my family would let them.”

His eyes widened on mine, and I saw more than hate. Worse than hate.

Pity.

I saw damn pity.

“You need to get some fucking therapy,” he said, his hands still gripped tight on my wrists.

“Yeah, so I keep hearing. Therapy, therapy, therapy. Like it’s ever going to do me any good.”

He stared at my cuts, and I felt ashamed of them, so fierce in my pain. I was wearing a slutty lace thong, but he barely even noticed. His attention was fixed on my flaws and not my strengths, just like the rest of the world’s always seemed to be. Even the people who gave a shit.