The room reeked of iron, blood pooling at her boots. He stood in the center, hands slick and crimson, his breath heavy. “Did you watch?” His voice was low, intimate. She nodded, her heart pounding even as she held herself steady.
He stepped closer, his bloodied fingers grazing her cheek, smearing warmth across her skin. “You’re not afraid.”
“I’m not.” Her voice didn’t falter.
His hand lingered, and she caught it, lifting it slowly. Her lips brushed his bloodied palm, tasting salt and copper. His breath hitched, just for a moment.
“You love this,” he said, his dark eyes burning.
“I love you,” she murmured.
His laughter rumbled low as he pulled her close. Blood smeared against her clothes, her face.
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