𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀
Somehow, Anthony managed to hunt down three of my demons and slay them for me. I realized it a few weeks ago when he came back to me in the middle of the night. The rage, the bloodlust, the pure cruelty burned in the dark brown of his irises. I'd been around monsters long enough to recognize the signs.
The first time, he came home and fucked me. He used me. And I loved it. I loved every second of it because while he was buried to the hilt inside me, he whispered, "I killed for you." I didn't ask. I didn't prod for answers. All I did was close my eyes when the most intense, bone-shattering orgasm tore through my body. Why? Because knowing he spilled blood for me — a girl who had been told her whole life she was worth nothing — painted me a clear picture.
I was worth something.
