“I must be.” Catherine caught a glimmer of faint amusement in his face, before it was masked by his more familiar guise of aloofness cloaked in cruelty. “I'm with you.” With the finger he'd used to wipe away the blood he tapped her lower lip. She could smell the hot copper, the acrid magic, him. “And you,” he whispered, “do you enjoy hurting me?”
“No,” she said, “I'm just not used to males who are so physically weak.”
If he wanted to gouge into her, she would gouge back—and hers were more practiced, and came tipped with claws.
Because the truth of it was, Catherine did enjoy hurting him, at least a little. Each drop of blood she wrested away from his living, breathing body was a piece of him that she had stolen; she was dismantling him, slowly, and for whatever reason he was letting her. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen when there was nothing left.
eBook Star Crossed (Shadow Thane, #4)