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“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice shaking. She lifted her head off of the ground. “Please don’t do this.”

“I don’t have to, you’re quite right,” he agreed readily. The blade came closer and closer to her face until he caressed her cheek with it again. She made every effort to stay perfectly still while he gazed down at her almost lovingly. “But I want to.”

Then, he wrapped his hand around her throat and forced her head back down onto the ground, cutting off her air supply again. He watched her face with the samecool interest, still holding his knife against her cheek. And when black spots started to appear before her eyes and she felt certain that she was going to faint and never wake again, he finally loosened his hand just enough that she could rake in a breath.

She gulped down a huge lung full of air and then screamed at the top of her lungs, “RYAN! Ryan, please!”

Alex laughed, a genuine laugh like she’d told an amusing joke. “You think Ryan is going to help you?”

To that, she could think of no reply. She just lay there, looking up at him, feeling the heat of his thighs radiating into her body. With that look on his face he could be doing anything–playing cards, having coffee. Anything but holding down a bound and mostly naked woman with a knife to her face. It made her blood freeze.

He leaned forward so that their faces were close, holding her in place with his hand around her throat.

“Make no mistake, Mrs. Colter–he wants you dead as much as I do,” he whispered. “But by all means, keep screaming.” His eyes darkened and his eyelids grew just a little heavier. “I do so enjoy it.”

Though she wanted to do exactly that, she sucked in her breath and held it, refusing to give him something that he wanted.

The knife glided down to her throat, his eyes with it. It traveled over her collarbone down her chest until it skimmed the swell of her breast. It drew a flinch from her that she couldn’t suppress, which made him smile. Then, he gripped the neckline of her brassiere and forced theknife under it and angled it up, slashing down the length of it until parted in his hands, exposing her breasts. A cry tried to rise from her throat, but she trapped it there and bit down on it until her jaw ached.

Eyes burning, he caressed her nipples with the cold flat of his blade, each of them, until they were standing at sharp points. Hunger heated his face.

“What should I take first? It would be a shame to ruin these perfect breasts.” With his free hand, he ghosted his palm over one of them and then closed his hand around it, kneading it softly.

Evie gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, trying with all her might to suppress the urge to shudder that rose through her.

Without warning, he gripped her breast so hard that it took her breath away. He watched her face closely while he crushed it. Worse than the violation of being touched by him in this way and the pain he was trying to cause her was the fact that it felt good. The horror of it caused her body to become rigid, caused her to close her eyes and try to block it out.

And then suddenly the pressure of his cool hand was gone. And still, she didn’t trust herself to breathe. And though, with all her might, she wanted to keep her eyes closed, she couldn’t help but snap them open when she felt the blade of his knife whispering around her nipples.

“So hard to decide,” he said softly. “Perhaps I start with your ears.” With his free hand he stroked her hair back, out of her face, and swept it away from the side of herhead. He looked at her ear closely, tilting his head, considering.

Dear God. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“But they’re particularly pretty ears,” he continued, serious in his deliberation. “It would be a shame to ruin them just yet. Mm, perhaps just one.” He bent forward again, locking his eyes on hers. He wrapped his fingers around her chin, forcing her to maintain eye contact with him. “One for the pigs and one for you.”

“Please,” she said and then regretted it. Not an ounce of empathy in his eyes. Only slow, cold, burning hunger.

“Don’t stay too attached to them, Dolly,” he whispered. “There’s so much more to part you from before I’m through with you. It’s a genuine shame, like throwing paint on a Titian. But we all have to do what we have to do, don’t we?”

His voice was low, vicious without being forceful. The very sound of it crawled across her skin and drew goosebumps.

“I think first we’ll start with a taste,” he said, cool and steady. “Just enough to work us up to ruining the rest of it. I’ve heard it's easier to paint on a ruined canvas than a flawless one.”

Then the knife traveled back down to her decolletage. And without any warning, a horrible burning sting spread across her chest, just above her left breast, like fire. Gasping, she lifted her head to see what he’d done to her. Rivulets of crimson were rushing over her flesh, over herbreast and down her side. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from screaming.

“Good. Good.” There was something sensual about the way he said the word. “Blood becomes you, Mrs. Colter.”

One of his fingers skimmed along her breasts, gathering the blood as if it were a honey from a jar. And though she wanted to look away, their eyes locked as he slipped his finger in his mouth, sucking her blood slowly off of his flesh. He pressed his hand to her throat again, trapping her back on the floor while his head dipped out of her lines of sight.

Then a hot, wet tongue skimmed along the curve of her breast. Teeth and then lips fastening around her nipple.

God, he was licking her blood off of her body.

Everything inside of her screamed. Revulsion and fury rolled through her, the idea of this man taking pieces of her that should have belonged to no one but herself. And above all, rage that he was drawing pleasure from her with his mouth.

She bit down on her lip to keep from saying anything and tightened her body, holding her breath in to keep from making a sound.

Slowly, he raised his head again. His pupils were huge and his beautiful lips were stained red with her blood, a fact that sickened and fascinated her. The look on his face was as disconcerting as it was beautiful, pleasure infused with satisfaction. In any other situation, she would be moaning at the sight of such a man looking at her with that expression on his face.