Kissed by the Killer

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.