Page 114 of Shadowface

Pausing for a second, he abruptly presses on top of me. His hot body, every line of his muscles tense.

My legs betray me as I wrap them around him, playing with him. Playing with the devil. I stare at him for a moment and breathe.

“You’ve calmed down since the last time I saw you,” I say. His entire tone is calmer. His anger and pain aren’t controlling him and, for once, he just seems normal again.

He shrugs and stares at my bare thigh in his shirt. “Sex will do that.”

I huff. “I didn’t have sex with you.”

He laughs so darkly and runs his hands through his hair. He looks so different without his glasses, like an entirely different person. “I can repeat exactly what we did all day if that’s what it takes for you to believe me, pretty girl.”

I freeze as he leans in closer, and I think about all the things he did to me today and how long he fucked my mouth. My throat is raw because of it. He also went down on me after, and that was the best orgasm he’s ever given me.

His hand finds my mark, and he gently brushes his thumb across it, serving as a constant reminder I’m not safe with him. My hand instinctively searches for his, causing my heart to flutter as our fingers connect.

His gaze draws down to our hands. “I not only want to destroy you, but I want to own you.”

“Lincoln wants to protect me,” I counter, “from you.”

A small twinge of his lip. “Lincoln’s not real, pretty girl. I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

A flood of emotion overtakes me and my hands ball into fists. “He is real. He’s complex, brilliant, and kind, and he’s mine. I like him better than you.”

Mikael makes me feel tortured.

Mikael’s calm demeanor is replaced by that rush of anger I’m used to with him. “He’s emotionless…” he roars. “He’s a robot, because I made him that way. I gave him everything: this nice big house, this life he created while living in my body. There was no fucking way I’m letting him have my heart as well. You’re in love with the Tin Man. The person you are in love with is me.”

“Well, the Tin Man was better than the Scarecrow,” I quip.

I hold my breath, and a chill on my skin causes a small squeak to escape me. I tremble as his lips delicately trace the contours of my wound, his fingers gripping a razor blade he now holds against my skin.

He starts to apply pressure, causing me to bleed. Not enough that it hurts, but enough to know he’s in control.

“You need him,” I beg. “You can’t survive without him, Mikael.”

His lips curl, and I wince, thinking he’s going to hurt me. Instead, he kisses the drop of blood and runs circles over it with his tongue, making the sting go away.

I gasp, then he moves his tongue to the fabric of my panties and runs his tongue over my clit. I peer down at him and his eyes are dark. His pupils are nearly black as he trails kisses up my belly and finally meets my waiting lips.

I kiss him. I shouldn’t, but I do. His lips are soft, warm and sensual, and exactly what I remember him being like. My nameless monster who used to kiss me in my sleep.

He looks up at me with soft eyes. “I’m real, Summer Landry. And I love you so fucking much, pretty girl. You’re the one I can’t survive without.” My heart completely falters.

Then I register a pinch and a sting, and I squeal as I’m hit with the sensation of my skin splitting. A gush of blood pools on the dark sheets from where he re-cut the mark. And with that, my heart turns to stone.

I slap him. “You asshole, you cut me again.”

He smiles, goes utterly quiet. He then rises and strides to his desk, placing his glasses back on. He blinks a few times and his body grows limp and lifeless.

He’s switching, I realize, before my very eyes.

Inhaling deeply, he smiles and walks to me. He pulls me to my feet, not noticing the tiny slice on my thigh—or if he does notice it, he’s ignoring it.

“Come on. Let’s get you dressed and cleaned, and we’ll go upstairs. I need to introduce you to everyone, and I’ll make us some pasta. I’m a really good cook.”

My head hurts from the whiplash I just experienced, and I have no doubt he’s a phenomenal cook.

“Lincoln?” I ask, running my hand down his abdomen and his stomach twitches.