Chapter 1280:
It was a provocation â one meant to set her off.
Allisonâs expression turned icy.
âIs that so?â she sneered, her voice laced with sarcasm. âIf he dies, I wonât be far behind.â
âYou love him that much?â
âItâs beyond your comprehension.â
Verruckt said nothing.
Something about her words seemed to get under his skin. His eyes darkened, his expression unreadable.
âGood. Itâs true that I can never understand it.â The next moment, he grabbed Allisonâs chin.
Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her.
Verruckt crashed his lips against hers, his kiss almost savage, driven by an uncontrollable force. His face was shadowed with dark, murderous intent, and Allison had no doubt â if he wanted to, he could snap her neck easily. Yet, he kissed her with an untamed, reckless passion. Heat coiled through her, suffocating and clinging like something molten, sticky, and inescapable.
âYouâre insane.â
She lifted her hand, ready to strike, but Verruckt was faster. In a heartbeat, his fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to deepen the kiss. Her long locks twisted around his stronger fingers as he gripped the back of her head, holding her in place with an unyielding force. He didnât stop â not until the sharp tang of blood seeped between their lips.
Verruckt grunted, his eyes burning with a seething, unreadable fury.
At that moment, Allisonâs gaze flicked toward the plate beside her. With a desperate sweep of her hand, she knocked it over.
Crack!
Porcelain shattered against the floor, shards scattering in every direction. Allison snatched up a jagged fragment and slashed toward Verruckt. With a thud, the shard cut his skin, but it never reached his chest. Verruckt had caught it between his fingers, stopping it mere inches from doing any real damage.
His other hand clamped around her wrist, his grip vice-like.
âTrying to kill me?â Expressionless, he dragged his tongue over his lips, tasting the blood that lingered there. The metallic tang spread across his tongue.
A restless unease settled over him the moment he regained control. He couldnât even fathom why he had kissed her just now â when he should have ended her life without hesitation. Realization darkened his face, his jaw tightening in silent fury.
âMs. Clarke, stop struggling. Itâs pointless.â He was a man who always took what he wanted. And right now, the only thing he saw was her.
Even knowing that they were sworn enemies, bound by blood and vengeance, he still couldnât suppress the primal urge to claim her, just as strong as his desire to kill her. His gaze traced her features. Her curled lashes, the quiet fury etched in her blank expression, the way her lips â tainted with fresh blood â looked like crushed roses.
It was his mark staining them.
.
.
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