Kissed by the Killer

Chapter Eleven: The Devil's Dare.

Vincent Virenson.

The silence between us was louder than any gunshot I'd ever heard.

Violet's breath trembled against mine, her lips parted like she wanted to speak-but nothing came out. For once, her damn mouth was quiet. And it was driving me insane.

The sunrise sliced through cracks in the broken window, painting her hair in firelight. The loft still reeked of blood and whiskey, but I didn't give a damn. All I saw-hell, all I wanted-was her.

The little heiress who should've run.

The one who stayed.

The one who was going to be the death of me.

I leaned closer, close enough to count the lashes brushing her flushed cheeks, close enough to feel the tremor in her body. My cliff.

"Vincent... don't." Her voice cracked.

"Why are you shaking, princess? Nervous?"

"Because you've pinned me to the wall like a prisoner!"

That word should've stopped me. It didn't. Because her fists were clenched, but she didn't push me away. Her eyes were furious, terrified-hungry.

I smirked, my voice rough. "That sounded more like a dare than a warning."

Her brows furrowed. "It wasn't-"

I cut her off, crushing my mouth to hers. No hesitation. No softness. Just fire.

Her gasp fed straight into me, igniting something primal. She tasted like defiance and fear, like sin in silk. My hand gripped the back of her neck, dragging her closer, swallowing the curse she tried to spit.

She shoved at my chest, fists pounding weakly-until her fingers betrayed her, curling into my shirt. That was all I needed.

I deepened the kiss, rough, claiming, daring her to fight me. She whimpered-soft, furious, desperate-and it ripped through me like gasoline to fire.

"Stop," she hissed against my mouth.

I growled. "Make me."

Her hand slapped my shoulder. I laughed darkly, devouring every protest. She was heat and nails, a storm in silk, and I wanted every drop of it.

When I finally tore away, her lips were swollen, her breath ragged. My forehead pressed to hers as I whispered, "The Devil's dare, princess. You failed."

Her eyes blazed. "You-you bastard!"

"Guilty." My grin was wicked. "Want to sentence me again?"

She shoved me hard, wiping her mouth with her sleeve like she could erase me. Good luck. She was carved into me, and I was etched into her.

"You had no right!"

"You think I care about rights?" I leaned back on the couch, stretching like a satisfied predator. "You were begging for it."

Her mouth dropped. "Begging?!"

I shrugged. "Your eyes said yes. Your lips said no. I believed the part that wasn't lying."

"You're disgusting."

"Funny." I licked my lip slowly. "You didn't taste disgusted."

Her cheeks flushed scarlet, fury sparking. She spun for the door. "I'm leaving."

I was on her in two strides, palm slamming against the door before she could touch the knob. The sound cracked like a gunshot.

"You're not leaving," I murmured, voice gravel. "Not when every assassin in this city wants your head. Step outside, you won't last ten minutes."

Her voice shook. "Better than being trapped in here with you!"

I leaned close, my lips grazing her ear. "Liar. If you wanted to leave, you'd have clawed through this door already."

Her fists clenched. Her breath caught.

"Say you hate me, Violet. Say you never want me near you again. Look me in the eye and tell me that kiss didn't shake you to your bones. Do that, and I'll let you go."

She spun, eyes blazing, lips trembling. "You think one kiss means anything? You think you own me? You're nothing but a curse, Vincent Virenson!"

I laughed, dark and guttural. "And still-you're mine."

Before she could answer, I kissed her again. Harder. Wilder. Her nails ripped into my shoulders, making me growl into her mouth, tasting her, tasting blood.

When I finally tore away, we were both gasping like we'd drowned.

"You'll ruin me," she whispered, voice breaking.

My thumb dragged across her swollen lip. "That's the point, princess."

Her knees buckled. She staggered back, eyes wide, trembling between rage and need. She wanted to scream. She wanted to slap me. She wanted me again.

And for the first time in years, I felt alive. Not because of blood. Not because of survival. Because of her.

That terrified me more than anything.

---

She curled on the couch, refusing to meet my eyes. "You're insufferable."

I chuckled, pouring whiskey, my knuckles raw. "And you're addicted."

Her head snapped up. "Addicted? To what?"

"To me."

The glass clinked as I raised it to my lips, smirking. "The sooner you admit it, the sooner this gets easier."

She glared-but beneath the fury, something darker sparked in her eyes. Something dangerous. Something that matched the devil in me.

The Devil's Dare.

She'd taken it the second she stayed.

But the question now was-would she fight me... or would she surrender to me?!