Bellatrix Sinclair
Sweat trailed down my back at his words, pursing my lips as his hand slipped off. “Where’s the fire, Ma Cherie?” he teased with a lifted brow. “Cat got your tongue.”
My gaze hardened, “How did you know?”
He hummed a tune of mischief, sparks emitting from his touch as he ran his fingers along my cheek. “Why should I give you answers and gain nothing in return.”
“What do you want?”
His lips curled into a devilish smile, allure dripping in his voice. “I love those words coming from your lips. Shall we play a game, Ma Cherie?”
Arching a brow, peaked with curiosity and apprehension. “What game?”
“Don’t worry love, it’s nothing dangerous…. well, nothing that would shed blood.”
“I don’t believe you.”