She broke it…the crazy fucking bitch broke it.

Snarling quietly in the bathroom, Cain turned on the cold water in the sink and let it run over his hand, ice cold and painfully hard on the sensitive skin that would be marred with bruising come the morning. It promised agony and heat at the same time, and in his mind he was already picking the right kind of violence to make her pay for the loss of control.

Then she was there in doorway of the bathroom, a reflection of dark, predatory lust in her red silk robe.

“Is it broken?”

“What do you think?”

She moved into the room, hovering near his left shoulder, calm and cool. “I didn’t mean to break it.”

( It’s the truth, too…she doesn’t care if she hurts him, maims him, beats him bloody and leaves him writhing because she knows he loves it as much as she does... )