Page 58 of Death Rydes Shotgun

There’s no way in hell I’m going to allow him to put me at a complete disadvantage by having me strip naked or touch myself on this mildewed floor while he looms over me like a king on a throne.

The moment I let my guard down, the moment I abandon the weapon to play his twisted game, he’ll step in and seal my fate forever.

I need to bring him to me. I need to close the distance on my terms.

I curve my spine slightly, letting the small blade drop to my side while keeping my posture loose, inviting, and dripping with calculated temptation. I take a tiny step forward, tilting my head up to meet his dark, hooded gaze.

“If you want to see me…” I let my voice quiver with a mixture of false surrender and very real heat, “...you’re going to have to come closer.”

Ryder’s jaw clenches hard.

A low, harsh sound rumbles in the back of his throat as he uncrosses his arms.

Without any hesitation, he falls for the bait, stepping right into my personal space, his huge frame casting a shadow like a dark mountain, utterly sure he’s broken my spirit.

He leans down, bringing his face inches from mine, his warm, rain-scented breath fanning over my lips. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Harmony…”

The second his chin drops—the very millisecond his guard slips in anticipation of a kiss—I strike.

With feral, blinding speed, I whip my right hand upward.

The cold, sharp edge of his own folding knife presses flat against the thick, throbbing vein of his throat.

Ryder’s movement freezes instantly.

The room drops into a dead, suffocating silence, the thunder outside muffled by the thick, electric tension humming between our bodies.

My breath comes in frantic, shallow gasps as I hold the blade steady, my fingers like bone against the handle, my eyes locking onto his with a fierce, terrified fury.

“Don’t. Move.” My voice shakes with raw adrenaline.

Ryder doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. Instead, a slow, dark, and utterly psychotic grin spreads across his handsome, wet face. His dark eyes shine with an unhinged, intoxicated delight as he stares straight into my soul.

Is he even human?

Slowly, deliberately, Ryder leans his neck forward.

He presses his throat directly into the sharp point of the steel, forcing the razor blade to bite deep into his skin until a tiny, brilliant bead of dark red blood wells up, trailing a slow, hot line down the side of his neck.

My heart stops dead in my chest.

“Go on, then, pretty girl,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice dripping with a terrifying, intoxicating madness that turns my blood to solid ice. “Make me bleed.”

Eighteen

Dark Devotion

RYDER

2:45 AM

The freezing bite of steel pressing into the flesh of my neck isn’t a threat, even if she means it to be.

To me, it’s simply an invitation.

I lean into her, deliberately driving my throat harder against the point of the knife.

The tiny prick of pain sparks hot against my skin, and a single, warm droplet of my own blood breaks free, trailing slowly down the side of my neck like a tear.