“I’m sorry that guy touched you,” he says, his voice low and gruff. “That’s on me for not letting everybody know you belonged to me first thing first. A few of these prospects don’t know who I am. They have to be introduced.”

That’s what he called an introduction?

“You shouldn’t have….” My voice is shaking too much. I have to swallow. “You shouldn’t have killed him.”

He scans my face with those crystal blue eyes. They’re not just burning—they’re crazed. And he doesn't try to explain himself or apologize for killing a man right in front of me. Just says, “I didn’t kill the guy who touched you. Yet. Second time today.”

His words stop my heart.

“Don’t,” I whisper. “You’ve done enough. I didn’t ask for that. I would never ask for that.”

“Course you wouldn’t. You don’t get it,” he answers with that cocky smirk. Like me having basic morals is some kind of character flaw.

He brings his face closer, his lips hovering over mine. Oh God, he's going to kiss me. He's going to kiss me after killing a man. Possibly take me against the wall again, like he did back at the church.

Even worse, I don't know if I'm going to stop him. I’m horrified—bordering on traumatized. But desire swells inside of me, thick and dumb, and my body silently begs for the thing—for the man I shouldn’t want.

But his lips just hover there. He doesn't bring them any closer.

I don't realize he's waiting until he asks, “You going to kiss me again? Stop me from going back down there to put another bullet in the head of that pipsqueak who fucking touched you?”

I swallow again, every single part of me mute with horror. My voice has stopped working. I can't feel my heart beating, and I know for damn sure I'm not breathing.

His eyes blaze, challenging me, daring me.

And when I just stand there, that cocky smirk metastasizes into a feral grin. “Not this time, huh?”

“No…no, I’m not going to kiss you,” I finally manage to squeeze out. I remind both him and myself, “You just killed a man. And you’re threatening to do it again. Do you not see why that should make me totally disinterested in kissing you for any reason. Ever?”

His smile fades, and a grim shadow falls over his face. And for some reason, I feel bad for rejecting him even though he’s the one who dragged me into this hellmouth, then showed me that he isn’t just one of these monsters—he’s their king.

“This ain't how I wanted to start with you.” He pushes back and shakes his head. Like he’s disappointed. With me or himself? I can’t tell.