Soulless (Starcrossed Lovers Trilogy 2)

“Yes, I know, I know. It seems I am quite the capable gardener, doesn’t it? Despite me not being a success on the salami-slicing front.”

He tried to scowl, but it didn’t look authentic.

“There’s you with that sassy mouth again. You should be a more convincing kidnap victim, you know. Maybe then I’d take pity on you and keep you like a pet.”

I found my bitchy tone at that. “Screw you and your pity. I’ll never bathe in pity, no matter how rough it gets. Kill me, or fuck me, or both, whatever, just keep your pity to yourself, please. I’m no pet for anyone. Not outside of the bedroom anyway.”

We were both staring at each other, and the Morelli-Constantine hate should have been bristling as strongly as ever. He should have been dragging me inside and telling me I’d missed my escape chances and more fool me, and I should be cursing myself for ever considering staying in this damn place, but we weren’t doing any of it, just damn well staring.

“I left the door unlocked, I’m guessing?” he asked me. “That’s what happens when you sneak into my bed overnight and fuck my alarm over. Maybe you should try it more often.”

“I didn’t fuck your alarm over. You were sleeping like a baby and didn’t get up in time.”

“Regardless. I rushed out and left the door unlocked, did I?”

I shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I noticed it on my way to get some breakfast. I’ve had plenty of time to get the hell away from here.”

“Yes,” he said. “You have. So why didn’t you?”

I didn’t really have an answer for that. Not one that made sense. I couldn’t tell him that the thought of leaving him and this place gave me a sick pang in my stomach and nothing but a sense of dread at walking away. I could hardly say that I’d stayed wrapped up in his bed covers for hours after he’d gone that morning, just to smell him. I couldn’t admit that I’d fantasized about making this place into a dream home that I could dance around for the rest of my life.

“Really, Elaine,” he pushed. “Why didn’t you run?”

“I dunno,” I lied, then realized I had a question of my own. “Why are you back so soon? You can’t have been in the city more than a couple of hours. You getting tired of the office or something?”

We stared at each other some more, and I couldn’t fight the flutters in my belly. Something was happening between us . . . even under the hate and the craziness and the utter carnage in our world, something was happening . . .

“Maybe I hurried back to wipe you out for good, how about that?” he said, but again, there was no malice in it. Nothing genuine.

“Better wipe me out for good, then,” I replied, and held the trowel out to him with a sassy smile. “I imagine this will finish me off easily enough.”

“You’re asking for it, you know that?”

“I’m asking you to fuck me before you kill me, you know that? Even if it’s in the grass here, just get your dick out and fuck me, please.”

We stared again, and my mind was churning, thinking. Why the hell was Lucian Morelli in a garden in the middle of nowhere while his empire was moving at full speed in the city? It didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense in the goddamn slightest.

“I should wipe you the fuck out here and now,” he said, but still the monster wasn’t in his voice.

“Do it then,” I pushed again. “Just fucking fuck me first, please.”

He stalled, staring. “You are a crazy little bitch, Elaine. You could have been back in Bishop’s Landing by now and laughing at my demise. It would have been my mistake for leaving the fucking door unlocked.”

“Could have been, but I’m not,” I said. “I guess I really am a crazy little bitch, aren’t I?”

I knew I was crazy. He knew I was crazy. Every zing of wanting him was sending me higher than cocaine ever could. I couldn’t fight it, and I didn’t want to. I’d wanted the monster from the very start at Tinsley’s ball. I hadn’t been able to resist his evil hands on me from the very first moment we met.

“You truly are crazy,” he told me. “You are downright insane for being here.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“There’s plenty you don’t fucking know,” he said, and then he did it.

Lucian Morelli grabbed me up from my knees and slammed me into the wall at the side of his crappy house. I thought he would hurt me, finally . . . I thought he would tear me apart, this time for good . . .

But he didn’t. Oh fuck, he didn’t.