Cain unrolled the case and pulled a blade out that even I could tell was sharp from where I stood. It practically sparkled in the light as he spun it in his hand like it was an extension of his arm. A scream bubbled up in my throat but died in place as Cain suddenly had me by the front of the pajamas with the sharp blade pressed into my neck. I didn’t even dare swallow, and I had no idea how he’d moved so fast.

“Look at me.” His voice was deep and rough with strain.

Even though he didn’t say it out loud, he was holding back from slitting my throat. Doing as he asked, my eyes found his. “You see in me what others don’t, but more importantly, Sunshine, I see in you what you refuse to acknowledge.”

He was wrong. I didn’t want people to die. I didn’t want to see them in pain or suffering. His firm body felt as hard as the steel blade at my throat as he pushed himself up against me. The flare of unwanted desire that filled my body terrified me. Cain leaned close to my ear, his breath like a hot summer breeze and just as tantalizing as he spoke.

“It’s in you, Sunshine. Don’t try to deny it to me. I can see the inner demons that knock on your door.” The tip of his nose brushed my cheek, and my eyes fluttered closed. “You see the beauty in death, and you’re not afraid to die. Do you know how rare it is not to be afraid of death? What’s inside you recognizes what’s inside me and wants to come out and play. All you need to do is open the door, and I’ll teach you the rest.” His teeth nipped at my ear, and my hands clenched into fists as a soft moan escaped my lips.

“That’s it, Sunshine, let yourself go,” he said as his hand slid under the fuzzy top and up my body. The feel of his skin on my own set my blood on fire. “Moan for me again, be a good girl.”

Cain’s thumb rubbed over the tip of my nipple, and the sensation had me crying out with a whimper.

“You’re a one-of-a-kind, a rare gem.” His mouth found my own, but instead of kissing me, he bit my bottom lip as his fingers tweaked my nipple, and this time, I did moan.

All I could picture was ripping his clothes off and riding him to the ground. Whether it was hormones or a bad boy attraction, whatever the reason was, my answer was the same.

I wanted him.