Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(98)

“If you need any help, please don’t hesitate to ask,” the attendant says, chirpy and pleasant. She unlocks the changing room and takes the dresses from me, hanging them on the hooks on the wall.

Then she shows herself out, swinging the door closed.

It’s much better than most fitting rooms I’ve been in. It’s actually an entire little room, with a cushioned bench against one wall and a little stool in the corner. The wall opposite the bench is all mirrors, and the dresses are hung around me.

I start stripping out of my clothes and shoes quickly, then reach for the first dress. It’s the silvery gray one, just a little bit darker than my hair. It would match those shoes I was looking at earlier perfectly.

I pull it on, and the material is cool and silky, shimmering softly as I pull the dress up my body. It’s backless, showing off the curve of my spine and leaving the rest to the imagination. It’s sleek and sexy, complementing my curves where it clings to them.

When I turn this way and that, checking it out in the mirror, the dress moves with me, and I like that. It’s not uncomfortable or restrictive, and it’s not so long that it would drag on the ground. Just long enough to show off my shoes, with a little slit up one side to flash a hint of leg.

I run my hands over my hips, smoothing the fabric down.

Yeah. I like it.

As I’m checking it out, the doorknob rattles. I look up, expecting it to be the over-eager attendant again, asking if I need anything else.

But it’s Knox, sliding inside and then closing the door behind him.

“Stalking people like a creeper is frowned upon, you know,” I tell him, catching his eye in the mirror. “Innocent young women don’t want to be followed around by big men with bad intentions.”

Knox just laughs. “Yeah, if you’re innocent, then so am I,” he fires back. “And you know every single one of my bad intentions toward you.”

His eyes burn as he says that, even through his reflection. He stalks closer to me, and suddenly the space that seemed practically roomy just a minute ago is a lot smaller. Knox takes up that much space with his attitude and his presence.

He comes up toward me, and I turn around, letting him back me against the mirror. That predatory look is on his face, the one that says he can’t decide if he wants to hunt me down or devour me or what.

It should probably be scary. To someone else, it might be. But for me, it just sends a thrill up my spine. It’s been less than a full day since I killed Ivan, and even less time than that since I left the guys’ house, but it’s like a part of me missed this. Knox looming over me, trying to take me apart with just his gaze.

“You’re so fucking addictive,” he says, voice low. I swallow hard at his tone. “How the fuck am I supposed to not want you? You’re fierce as hell, strong as a fucking warrior, and you come so perfectly when I take you apart.”

My tongue darts out to lick my lips, and I watch Knox follow the motion. Everything about him is big and in your face, and usually, that puts me on edge. I hate being backed into a corner, but now, it just makes the sexual tension flare.

It’s always been there between us, since the first moment he found me in the basement of their house and started licking my blood. It’s been this twisted, fucked up thing that’s hot as hell.

“Sounds like you missed me,” I tell him. It’s supposed to be a taunt, mocking him for how he went and got attached even though that was never supposed to be the deal. It loses some of that force though, because I sound breathless as fuck just from how close he is.

My body arches toward him like it’s magnetized, and those deep, dark eyes skim over my curves where the dress highlights them. I can see everything he wants to do to me playing out over his face, and I want it.

My core pulses in time with my heartbeat, deeply interested in whatever is about to happen here.

Knox reaches into his pocket and pulls out a switchblade. He flicks it open with a smooth, practiced motion, and something about the sight of it and the sound of that blade flipping out makes my body tighten in the best way. My nipples are hard and taut, poking against the thin fabric of the dress since I definitely can’t wear a bra with that plunging back.

Knox can tell. I know he can. His nostrils flare as if he’s scenting my arousal on the air.

He moves in even closer, the florescent lighting overhead catching on the blade of the knife. My heart pounds, but once again, not with anything even close to fear.

The metal of the blade is cold, even through the material of the dress. Knox skims it over my curves, letting me feel the hard steel of it. He runs it between my breasts, down my stomach, over my hips, and I stand as still as I can, not wanting to make him slip and mess up the dress.

But he has other ideas, because of fucking course he does.

That deranged smile spreads across his face, and he yanks me closer with an arm around my waist, his hand at the small of my back.

I shiver again when he runs the knife up my bare arm to the shoulder strap of the dress. With a practiced flick of the wrist, he cuts through the fabric there, and the dress falls away on that side, exposing one of my tits. The one with the nipple he pierced.

His eyes linger on the metal through it for a second, and then he keeps going, cutting down the middle, dragging the knife down the valley of my cleavage.

There’s already a tiny healed scar there from another time he cut me, and it almost tingles when the knife touches it. He keeps cutting down the side, and I hiss in a breath when there’s a sharp line of pain where he knicks me with the knife.