Page 47 of Haunted Hearts

The impact explodes up my arm with a sickening crack, drywall collapsing beneath my knuckles. Dust spills to the floor in soft, pathetic flakes. My chest heaves and I stare at the hole, my hand still buried in it. Slowly, I pull it back.

There’s blood, but less than there should be. My eyes narrow, I flex my fingers. No pain, just pressure and heat.

My gaze lifts, unfocused, drawn again to the bed.

To the safe. Waiting. Watching.

As if it wants something from me.

My throat tightens and I stare ahead, unmoving.

I’m sorry.

The thought isn’t for the wall, or for myself. It’s for you.

Because whatever this is… This rage. It isn’t normal. And worse—I don’t think it’s entirely mine.

I crawl into my bed mechanically, turning off the lamp and setting my phone on the nightstand.

I close my eyes—begging tomorrow brings relief.

CHAPTER 15 KAI

I stand at the kitchen counter drinking this infernal substance. Calli adores it—hell, she practically lives off it. To me, it tastes bitter and sharp as it coats my tongue, the heat foreign and unpleasant.

She woke me up early for this?

“This is fucking awful; you drink this by choice?”

She laughs at me. That soft, unguarded laugh that makes something in my chest tighten. “You’re supposed to put cream and sugar in it…”

“I don’t believe anything can improve this.”

She takes the mug from me, her fingers brushing mine briefly, and drops in three spoonfuls of sugar and some milk before handing it back.

“Here. Now try it.”

I take it, but I don’t drink. I’m watching her. The way she stands too close. The way she trusts me without hesitation. The way her pulse flickers in her throat.

“I think I’d much rather have a taste of you,” I murmur, setting the mug down before lifting her onto the counter. Her body fits into my hands like it belongs there.

“Not here, someone could see.”

Her protest is weak. Breathless.

Mine.

I lean in, my mouth brushing her neck, breathing her in before pressing my lips to her skin. She smells warm. So fragile, so human.

My hand slides up beneath her shirt, feeling the soft heat of her stomach, higher, until I grip her perfect chest, her breath catching under my touch.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I whisper into her ear, my teeth grazing her earlobe.

Her body reacts instantly. Always so honest.

My kisses move lower, slower, savoring her. I lift her shirt, exposing her to me, and take one of her nipples into my mouth. She lets out a soft, helpless sound that goes straight to my stomach.

My control frays as my cock hardens, heavy and insistent, reacting before I can temper it.