He was like water, ready for death to flow from his hands.
Her scent drifted into the room before she did. Vanilla and lavender, like the heady, fragrant oils from the bath. A flash of an ebony braid against a pale nightgown crossed the thin thread of light coming from the crack created by the door hinges. Five more steps and she’d turn the corner of the door and be within his reach. Three more heartbeats. Two. One.
He lunged for her, reaching for her throat. One twist. One snap. He’d done it dozens of times. Hundreds.
But … his hands. They weren’t obeying. Instead of twisting they were grasping. Instead of dropping they were pulling. Instead of killing, they were—holding?
What?
She struggled against him, a shocked cry tearing from her as he gripped her tightly to him from behind. Perplexed as he was, he subdued her easily, locking her arms to her sides with one arm and banding his other beneath her throat. He tried not to notice how lush and soft she felt. How clean and sweet-smelling she was, or how her round backside pressed intimately against his thigh.
He could feel her ribs inflate with a deep breath, readying for a scream.
“Make a noise and I slaughter whoever else comes through that door,” he threatened in a low voice. “I don’t leave witnesses.”
Her lungs deflated in a quiet whimper.
Argent did his best to analyze the situation, but something in his mind was refusing to work. He struggled to search his subconscious for a solution to the problem he’d just created for himself. This lovely, soft creature was trembling in his arms, toying with his senses and muddling his thoughts.
What in the bloody hell did he do now?
She still hadn’t seen him, he could tighten the arm about her neck and she’d be out in a matter of seconds. The job would be finished with only this minor hiccup.
You could take her first, right here on the plush carpets. The soulless evil that had been with him for fifteen years whispered the vile thought in his ear. Be the last to taste her.
Argent squeezed his eyes shut against the idea. Never. He’d taken lives, but he’d never in his entire existence considered taking what a woman hadn’t offered him freely.
Or charged him for.
He clenched his teeth in helpless frustration as his cock swelled against her back.
What was happening to him? What was she doing to him?
The woman whimpered again, a powerful tremor of fear coursing down her body as her breath sped to short bursts of terror.
Argent didn’t want her to be afraid. Didn’t want to be doing this to her. He wanted those whimpers to stop. His arm tightened on her throat slightly. No matter what she’d done, a woman didn’t deserve to be terrorized. Not by an unfeeling killer like him. So why couldn’t he just squeeze? Why wasn’t she dead yet?
Because earlier her dark eyes had shimmered with life. Her smile had held the kind of joy that life tended to smother out of most adults. Because … though he was a godless man, something whispered to him from the ether that he didn’t have the right to take such light from the world.
Because she’d kissed him, and in this moment he had to admit that he’d never again be the same. She’d awakened something he’d thought he’d live without.
A hallway door opened. “Mama?” a small voice called into the darkness.
They both froze.
The hallway floor creaked twice with little steps. One more time and the boy would be moments from discovering them.
Fuck.
“Please,” she breathed, softer even than a desperate whisper. “Do what you want with me, but—please—don’t hurt my son.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Millie couldn’t breathe. She’d never prayed so hard in her life. If only her son had stayed in bed. If only …
“Follow my lead, and I’ll leave you both unharmed,” he growled into her ear.
She didn’t know how she was suddenly facing him, or why, until he grabbed a fistful of her braid, wrenched her neck back, and slanted his lips over hers. Oh God. She knew who he was. Would recognize the feel of those lips anywhere.
She’d kissed them only hours ago.
Suddenly his hands were cupping both sides of her jaw, his thumbs pressing her lips apart so his tongue could make its wet sweep into her mouth.
She should bite him. Claw his eyes out. Knee him between the legs, grab Jakub, and run screaming from the house.
But this man was someone you never escaped from. She could tell by the way he kissed, by the unmitigated power in his arms when he’d seized her.
This was no gentle, questing probe she’d received from gentlemen. Or soft, seductive kisses that she’d allowed from exciting men who had no idea what the word “gentleman” meant. It wasn’t the hungry, thrilling kiss they’d shared before.
There was something wild in his lips. Something dark and desperate that, it seemed, astounded even him. Even if she’d allowed this kiss in regular circumstances, Millie didn’t think she’d be ready for the overwhelming intensity of it. It felt like something had shattered inside her attacker. Almost as certainly as if she’d heard it.
He made a sound in his throat. A sound of pleasure. A sound of agony.
“Matka? Mama?” The door moved. “Ew!”
When Millie pulled away, it surprised her that her assailant allowed it.
Jakub stood gripping the door handle, his honey-fair hair sticking up in wild disarray, and an openmouthed expression of childlike disgust frozen on his beautiful little face.
“Kochanie,” she gasped, her heart pounding loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Though whether it was from fear or from the kiss, she couldn’t honestly say.