It was clear in the way he looked at her, the way his cock twitched in her hand, how much he wanted her, and Xan couldn’t say she didn’t feel a smug sort of triumph in the attention. It was unlike her to give in to lust purely for the pleasure of it; for her, sexuality had always been a weapon. A means, only, of getting what she wanted. Besides this man, she could only think of a handful of times where desire drove her, rather than necessity. But now? There was no necessity to this, no means to an end. All she wanted was him, to feel his muscles under her hands, his skin under her teeth.

She wasn’t sure why she should feel such a peculiar attraction to this man, one she had no qualms over killing only minutes before. Well, that wasn’t true; she knew why, only she couldn’t make sense of it. The way he had faced her down without fear, played into her game as if he knew the rules. As if he made them. It was that which had her so fascinated, such a rarity in the midst of an overall boring and mundane existence. Someone like her.

Because she could see herself in him, she knew she ought to run. People weren’t supposed to be like her, and she knew how dangerous she was. Would he decide in the middle of this that he no longer wanted her, and that he would just finish the game they’d started?

But there lay the thrill of it.

He informed her that she spoke too much, Xanthippe’s lips curling up into a smirk before his mouth was on hers once more. Groaning into that kiss, her fingers wound into the tight curls that obscured his face, biting down hard on his lip with an accompanying tug of his hair. Hissing as his hands ran down her ribs, coasting bloody trails over her back before gripping at her rear, she gasped as he lifted her and pressed her back to the wall.

Legs wrapping around his waist, she pulled his mouth back to hers, tongue forcing its way between his lips to tangle with his. The hand not in his hair raked violently down his back, red welts raising in the wake of her fingertips. Uncurling from his locks, the other hand moved to wrap around his throat instead—not hard, just tight enough to know it was there. Pulling back, she offered a wicked grin, gaze daring him to do something about it before pressing her lips to his again.