Powerless. The inability to fight rages in my head, my survival instincts tell me to just move, yet my body refuses to. And then his bloody hand is wrapping around the back of my neck and bringing my body flush with his once more. I cringe at the feel of his life’s essence dripping from his hand. The blood feels like menacing fingers crawling down my spine, staining my skin as if to mark me. To my horror, he lifts his other hand—the one still gripping a much more wicked-looking knife than mine—and brings the tip of the blade to the underside of my chin. He applies enough pressure to force my chin up further, the metal biting into my skin. The slightest curl to his lips stalls the breath in my lungs. The act speaks of something daunting. Something condemning. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he murmurs, his sinful eyes devouring my face. I scowl and plant my hands on his chest, ignoring the pure steel beneath his flesh, and attempt to push him away. But he resists the force, his lip curling into a snarl. Tears rim my lids as frustration grows. “Please, just leave. I-I don’t want you here. I don’t want you. Just leave me alone,” I beg. It feels like reaching a hand inside my chest, yanking out my pride and throwing it onto the floor. But I don’t give a fuck about my pride in this moment. I just want this man to fucking /eave. He presses in closer. “Are you going to cry, Addie?” he taunts. My hands are still pressed firmly against his chest. His heart is racing beneath my palms, giving me pause. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s not as unaffected as he’s appearing to be. “No,” I lie. I will absolutely have no problems crying my eyes out after he leaves. But I refuse to show him any more weakness. He flashes me a feral, toothy smile, pulling the blade from my chin and dropping his hand from behind my neck. The second he steps away, I feel a mixture of coldness and relief. But then he’s coming right back. The intensity in his eyes holds me in place as he walks to stand beside me, his chest brushing against my arm. He smells like leather and smoke. It’s intoxicating. Hes intoxicating. Fear has a taste. Acidic, burnt metal. It numbs my tongue. Not just my tongue, but my entire being. I’m so, so scared.