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?!

Chapter Twelve: Burning Barriers.

Violet Virgilson.

His words still scorched through me long after they'd been spoken.

Addicted.

Vincent Virenson said it like a fact, like gravity, like the sky was blue and hell was hot. Like my entire existence could be reduced to the sound of his voice, the taste of his mouth, the grip of his hands pinning me in place.

And worse? A treacherous, whispering part of me was terrified he wasn't wrong.

I hugged my knees tighter, burying my face against them so I wouldn't have to look at him sprawled across the couch like some smug, blood-soaked deity. He had no right to look that relaxed, not when I felt like someone had set fire to my veins and was fanning the flames.

"You're staring at me," he drawled.

I snapped my head up. "I am not!"

He smirked into his glass, whiskey glinting in the sunrise. "You always are."

"You're delusional."

"And you're shaking." His eyes flicked to my hands, traitorous things that trembled against my knees.

I tucked them under my arms. "It's cold."

He slid out of his jacket, tossed it lazily toward me. "Take my jacket then. Although we both know it's not." His smirk widened. "You're rattled. Because of me."

My pulse stuttered. He said it with the kind of certainty that made me want to scream-and kiss him just to prove him wrong. Which, of course, would only prove him right.

"I hate you," I hissed.

"Good," he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, eyes burning holes straight through me. "Hate is closer to love than indifference. Keep hating me, princess. It makes it easier to keep you alive."

I shot to my feet, glaring down at him. "You arrogant, sadistic, insufferable-"

"Handsome?"

"-devil!"

His grin sharpened like a blade. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I groaned, running both hands through my tangled hair. My skin still tingled where his lips had been, my mouth swollen and traitorous. "You don't get to do that again."

"Do what?"

"Kiss me!" The words exploded out of me, ricocheting against the walls.

Vincent set his glass down, slow and deliberate, before rising to his full, terrifying height. His shadow swallowed me whole, his voice low and rough. "Then stop looking at me like you want me to."

My jaw fell open. "Excuse me?!"

"You heard me." He tilted his head, studying me the way a predator studies prey. "Every time you look at me, Violet, you dare me. You light the match and then get angry when the fire burns."

I jabbed a finger at his chest, even though my hand trembled. "You are not fire. You are smoke and ash and ruin."

His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "And yet here you are, choking on me."

I should've slapped him. I should've clawed my way through the damn door and taken my chances with the assassins waiting outside. But instead, I stood there, trembling, alive in a way that terrified me.

"Stay out of my head," I whispered.

He leaned down, his breath brushing my ear, his voice a growl that set my skin on edge. "Sweetheart, I'm not in your head. I'm under your skin."

My knees nearly buckled. I hated him. I hated myself more for not moving.

"Why me?" I demanded, forcing my voice to steady. "Why do you keep... pushing? Taunting? Tearing at every barrier I build?"

His jaw tightened. For the first time, the grin slipped, revealing something darker, heavier beneath. "Because barriers burn. And I want to watch yours fall."

The room tilted. I couldn't breathe. Every wall I'd spent years fortifying cracked under the weight of his words.

"You'll destroy me," I whispered.

He looked at me like that was the point. Like destruction was inevitable.

"Better me than anyone else," he said softly, almost gently, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

I laughed then-wild, desperate, and a little hysterical. "You're unbelievable."

"Thank you." He winked.

"That wasn't a compliment!"

"Sounded like one."

I groaned again, pacing across the room, trying to ignore the way my body betrayed me-how my lips still ached, how my heart still raced. "I can't do this. I can't-"

"You already are." His voice cut through my panic, calm and sharp. "You think you're running, Violet, but you're just running in circles. And every damn time, you end up right back here. With me."

I froze, my back to him, my hands fisted at my sides.

He was right. God help me, he was right.

I turned slowly, forcing the steel back into my spine, into my voice. "Then hear me now, Vincent Virenson. I will never-ever-belong to you."

His grin returned, feral and triumphant. "Then why do you sound like you're trying to convince yourself?"

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. Instead, I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands.

Vincent's footsteps were slow, measured, predatory as he crossed the room. He crouched in front of me, close enough that his knee brushed mine.

"Burn all the barriers you want, princess," he murmured. "I'll light the match every time."

I lifted my head, my fury colliding with his arrogance in a blaze of defiance. "And when there's nothing left?"

His smile turned sharp, dangerous, devastating. "Then all that's left is us."

---

The air between us was so heavy it felt like a storm pressing against the windows, begging to be let in. I could taste the thunder on my tongue, the lightning in my veins.

I should've ended it there. Stood, walked away, locked myself in the bathroom if I had to. But I stayed-because part of me wanted to hear what he would say next. Because part of me, the part I hated most, wanted him to win.

"Stop looking at me like that," I muttered.

"Like what?" His voice was a lazy caress, designed to undo me.

"Like I'm yours."

He leaned in, close enough that his breath mingled with mine. "That's because you are."

"No." My denial was sharp, instant. "No, I'm not."

"Keep saying it, Violet." His eyes blazed like twin furnaces. "One day you'll believe it. Or one day you'll stop lying."

I shoved at his chest, and he let me, stumbling back with a laugh that grated against my bones.

"God, you're infuriating."

"So you've said."

"I mean it!"

"So do I."

I screamed into my palms, muffling the sound before ripping them away. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

His smirk dimmed, something shadowy passing across his face. "Because you don't want me to."

I opened my mouth to argue when-

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The pounding at the door cut through the air like a gunshot.

I froze, my blood running cold.

Vincent's hand went to his weapon instantly, his eyes snapping to the door with predator focus.

"Stay behind me," he growled.

The pounding came again, heavier this time. "Violet! Violet, it's me!"

My breath caught. Rudolpho.

Before I could move, Vincent's head whipped toward me, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Who the hell is that?"

---

"Violet!" Rudolpho's voice cracked through the door. "Caroline told me where you were-I've been looking everywhere!"

Caroline. My stomach twisted into knots. She'd betrayed me.

What was I thinking, she doesn't like me anyways, she sees me as a treat.

I surged to my feet, but Vincent's hand shot out, gripping my wrist like a shackle.

"Sit down." His voice was low, lethal.

"No! He's my friend, I have to-"

"Friend?" His eyes burned into mine. "Or something else?"

"It doesn't matter! Let me go!"

But his grip only tightened, iron against my skin. "No one walks through that door without going through me first."

"Vincent-"

"Quiet." His gaze never left mine. "Decide now, Violet. Do you want me to open that door?"

My heart thundered, torn in two directions. Rudolpho was safety, familiarity, the echo of a life before all this madness. Vincent was fire, chaos, ruin-and yet he was also the one who had kept me alive when the world wanted me dead.

I swallowed hard, my voice breaking. "I just... I just want this to stop."

"Too late for that." Vincent released me suddenly, striding to the door.

Rudolpho banged again, desperate. "Violet, please! Are you in there?"

Vincent's hand hovered over the lock. He turned his head slightly, his eyes cutting back to me like blades. "Say the word. Do I let him in-or do I make him disappear?"

My entire body trembled.

This was it.

My choice.

My barrier.

And I had no idea which fire would burn me worse.

Chapter Thirteen: Love at Lethal Lope.

Violet Virgilson.

The air in Vincent Virenson's house was still thick with smoke-whether from the whiskey, the gunpowder tang of blood, or just the fire he'd set beneath my skin, I couldn't tell. My heartbeat hadn't slowed since he leaned in, whispering that I was under his skin. My walls had cracked, my resolve had burned, and my sanity was somewhere in ashes on the rug.

Silence pressed against the walls like a second skin. Every breath I drew carried the taste of him-danger, sin, temptation, and a promise I had no right to crave.

Then came the pounding.

A violent, relentless thunder against the front door that split the silence wide open.

I jolted, my chest seizing with dread. I should've been relieved-saved from the dangerous gravity pulling me closer to Vincent. Instead, icy fear wrapped its claws around my ribs. Whoever it was, it couldn't be good.

Vincent's head snapped toward the door, his predator's gaze sharpening to a blade. His entire body stilled, except for the flex of his jaw, and the faint flare of his nostrils.

"Stay here," he ordered.

Like hell I was staying anywhere. My nerves were screaming, my instincts shredding.

But before I could move, before I could even breathe, the door slammed open with the force of a storm.

And there he was.

Rudolpho.

My husband.

The man who once swore he'd love me until death. At this point, I wasn't sure whether that vow was a promise or a threat.

"Violet," he said, his voice sharp as a whip. His eyes flicked from me to Vincent, narrowing dangerously. "What in God's name are you doing here?"

My mouth dried instantly. Words tangled in my throat, unable to escape.

Vincent rose slowly, like a king inconvenienced by a peasant. He didn't flinch, didn't falter, didn't even glance at me. His gaze locked on Rudolpho with a cool, lethal calm that made the room feel too small.

"You're trespassing," Vincent said.

Rudolpho barked a humorless laugh, stepping inside like he owned the air I was breathing. "And you're harboring my wife."

Vincent's lip curved. Not a smile-too sharp for that. More like a blade. "I don't see a wife." His eyes cut to me, hot and merciless. "I see a woman making her own choices."

My pulse skittered. Oh, no. Not this. Not another battle of egos fought with me as the weapon.

"Choices?" Rudolpho sneered, his presence expanding like a storm cloud swallowing the room. "You think she has a choice, Virenson? You're forgetting something."

Vincent's tone dripped silk, but every syllable was lined with steel. "And what's that?"

"That I know what you've been hiding." Rudolpho leaned forward, his eyes glinting with malicious delight. "Your little underground games. Your illegal sport. Do you think the police wouldn't love to know where to start digging?"

The silence that followed could've shattered glass.

My heart thundered, rattling my ribcage.

Vincent's grin didn't falter, but I saw it-the flicker in his eyes. The dangerous recognition that Rudolpho wasn't bluffing.

"You wouldn't dare," Vincent murmured.

"Wouldn't I?" Rudolpho tilted his head, savoring every syllable. "One phone call, Virenson. And your empire goes up in flames faster than those barriers Violet keeps trying to build against you."

My stomach dropped. My skin went cold.

No. No, no, no.

Vincent could face assassins, enemies, wars-but the police? Exposure? That could ruin him. This wasn't a battlefield he could dominate with fists, cunning, or fury. This was law. And law had a way of stripping even kings of their crowns.

And damn me, but I couldn't let that happen.

"Stop," I said, my voice breaking through their duel like a cracked bell.

Both men turned to me. Vincent's gaze burned. Rudolpho's pressed like iron.

"Violet-" Vincent began, his tone darker than a midnight storm.

I cut him off, my throat tight. "Don't. Just... don't."

The fire in his eyes dimmed into something else-something rawer. I almost wished he'd stayed angry. His anger I could handle. That look? That silent plea? It threatened to undo me.

"Violet," Rudolpho said, and for the briefest second his voice softened, a wolf pretending to be a lamb. "Come with me. End this circus. Or I make the call."

The words landed like chains around my wrists.

I looked at Vincent.

At the dangerous man who had kissed me like the world was ending, who had burned through every barrier I'd ever built. He stood tall, proud, untouchable-and yet, in that moment, I saw something I'd never seen before. Vulnerability. Fear-not of Rudolpho, not of the police, but of me leaving.

And I knew. I knew what I had to do, even though the decision tasted like poison.

My chest ached as I forced the words out.

"So you're just going to go with him?" Vincent asked. His voice was low, deadly, almost disbelieving.

The question speared straight into me.

My throat closed. My body wanted to collapse.

"Yes," I whispered, then louder, steadying my tone though it nearly broke me. "Yes. He is my husband."

I swallowed hard, my lips trembling, but I kept my chin high. "And you? You are just a lover."

The silence that followed hollowed me out.

But the truth was a liar. Because under my breath, so faint I wasn't sure if I wanted him to hear it, I murmured, "A lover I wouldn't forget."

Vincent's eyes darkened, something dangerous and broken flashing there. My heart clenched so tightly I thought it might splinter.

And just like that, I left his house and his life, without looking back.

---

The door closed behind me with a thud that echoed like a coffin lid sealing shut.

I didn't dare turn around. If I did-if I looked at him one last time-I wouldn't be able to leave. I would crumble. And if I crumbled, Rudolpho would win. He'd drag Vincent into ruin, and I couldn't let that happen.

So I walked. My steps were steady, but inside I was fracturing. Every pace away from Vincent was a blade slicing deeper.

Rudolpho's hand pressed against the small of my back as if to herd me, like I was livestock. I wanted to slap it off, but my fingers felt numb. I wanted to scream, but my throat was locked tight.

The night air hit me like ice as we stepped outside. The world smelled wrong-too crisp, too clean. Nothing like the intoxicating chaos inside Vincent's house.

Rudolpho opened the car door, the gesture deceptively polite. I slid in, my body moving while my soul lagged behind, still in that room, still staring at Vincent's burning eyes.

The engine roared to life, and the car jerked forward. Silence blanketed us, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Rudolpho broke it. "Do you have any idea what kind of man you were just with?" His tone dripped with disdain. "Do you know the filth you were sinking into?"

My head snapped toward him, fury sparking through my grief. "Do you have any idea what kind of man you are? Because let me remind you, Rudolpho-you're no saint."

His jaw tightened. His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. "I'm your husband."

"Barely," I spat.

That shut him up for a moment. But not long. Rudolpho never could stand silence when he wasn't the one controlling it.

"You think Virenson cares for you?" he sneered. "You're just another conquest. Another notch on the belt of a criminal. He'll throw you aside once he's bored."

I laughed bitterly, though it sounded more like a sob strangled in my throat. "Funny. That's exactly what you did, isn't it? The difference is, Vincent doesn't pretend."

Rudolpho's head whipped toward me, his eyes blazing. The car swerved, tires squealing before he corrected the wheel.

"You dare compare me to him?" His voice shook with rage. "I gave you everything. My name, my wealth, my protection-"

"Protection?" I cut in sharply. "You call this protection? Dragging me away like a trophy? Threatening the man I-"

I stopped. The word had been too close. Too dangerous.

The man I loved.

But I couldn't say it. Not out loud. Not here.

Rudolpho smirked, sensing the words unsaid. "The man you what? Lust after? Fool around with? Don't delude yourself, Violet. Men like him don't love. Men like him devour."

"And men like you?" I hissed. "What do men like you do, Rudolpho? Chain? Cage? Control?"

He slammed his fist against the dashboard. The sound reverberated through the car, but it didn't silence me. If anything, it lit a fire under my tongue.

"You think I didn't see you?" I snapped, my voice trembling with anger. "All those nights you didn't come home. All those lies you thought I couldn't read. You abandoned me long before I ever looked at Vincent. So don't you dare stand there and act like the righteous husband now."

His nostrils flared. His jaw worked furiously. For once, he had no words.

Silence reclaimed the car. Not peace-never peace-but silence. The kind that thrummed with danger, like a bomb counting down.

I turned my face to the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. My reflection stared back at me-haunted eyes, pale skin, lips pressed tight to keep from quivering.

In that reflection, I saw the truth.

I wasn't leaving Vincent because I wanted Rudolpho. I was leaving because I couldn't let Vincent fall. Because for once in my life, I was choosing to protect someone else, even if it destroyed me.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of Rudolpho. Not when he'd savor every drop.

I whispered to the glass, so faint it fogged with my breath, "A lover I wouldn't forget."

The words weren't for Rudolpho. They were for the man I'd left behind. The man whose eyes had seared themselves into my soul.

"Did you say something?" Rudolpho asked sharply.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "No."

The drive stretched on, every mile another nail in my coffin. By the time we pulled into the estate, I felt hollow. A puppet on strings.

Rudolpho parked with a sharp jerk and turned to me. His eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Good girl," he murmured. "You made the right choice."

I met his gaze, my voice steady though my insides trembled. "No, Rudolpho. I made the necessary choice."

I opened the door before he could reply, stepping out into the night. The cool air slapped my face, and I breathed it in like freedom-even though I knew I was stepping into a different kind of prison.

Behind me, I heard him chuckle. Low, victorious, cruel.

But over his laugh, in the hollow of my chest, another sound echoed louder.

Vincent's voice.

"So you're just going to go with him?"

Yes.

But my heart had stayed behind.