Chapter 3Feeding On My Ruthless Boss

That evening was the "Midnight Gala," a high-society fundraiser. As his assistant, I had to attend.

I wore a dress that was essentially a second skin—sheer lace over nude silk. I sat next to him in the back of the limousine, leaning into his space.

As the car took a sharp turn, I let myself fall against his shoulder.

“I feel a little lightheaded, Killian,” I whispered.

He used two fingers to push my head away. “Sit up.”

I huffed and straightened my dress. This man’s willpower was terrifying. Was he actually a saint? Or was he just... incapable?

At the gala, Killian was the center of gravity. Every woman in the room was watching him, but no one dared approach. Except for me. I sat beside him at the head table, my thigh pressed firmly against his.

The drinks flowed. Killian accepted every toast, glass after glass of bourbon.

I noticed his eyes beginning to cloud with a dark red tint. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. His breathing became heavy and rhythmic.

My heart leaped. This was it. The "Holy Fire"—his internal heat—was becoming uncontrollable.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” I whispered in his ear, my breath warm against his skin. “Why don’t I take you to the private lounge to rest?”

Killian didn't push me away this time. His body was rigid, his jaw clenched so hard I thought it might snap.

“Fine,” he rasped.

I led him away under a barrage of jealous stares. The moment the door to the private lounge clicked shut, he spun me around and pinned me against the mahogany door.

“Janice…”

His voice was a low, agonizing growl.

I was ecstatic. Finally.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I’m right here. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you…”

I arched my body into his, my own succubus heat flaring to match his.

I waited for him to rip my dress, for the "monster" to come out.

Suddenly, Killian’s eyes snapped into focus. He shoved me back, bolted into the adjoining bathroom, and locked the door.

I followed him, throwing the door open.

Killian was fully dressed, sitting in a marble tub filled with ice-cold water. The freezing water was overflowing onto the floor. He was gripping the edges of the tub, his knuckles white, his whole body shaking.

He was using the cold to suppress the fire.

I was stunned. Is he insane? He’d rather torture himself with ice than touch me?

I walked over and knelt by the tub. “Killian, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

I reached out to unbutton his shirt. “Let me help you.”

The moment my fingers touched his skin, his eyes flew open—they were bloodshot, primal. He grabbed my throat and pulled!

I tumbled into the tub with him. The ice water soaked through my dress instantly, making it transparent. I gasped, finding myself straddling his lap.

Even through the freezing water and his suit, I could feel the terrifying reality of his desire. He was at his limit.

“Do you want to die, Janice?” he hissed.

I met his gaze and gave him a wicked, beautiful smile. “I want to die happy.”

I leaned down and bit his earlobe, hard.

Killian’s body convulsed. He flipped us, pinning me against the edge of the tub, his hands tearing at the lace of my dress.

Yes! Bring out the whip! Do your worst!

But then, he stopped.

He was panting, staring at me with a mix of hunger and self-loathing.

Then he climbed out of the tub.

“Get out!” he roared.

I sat in the ice water, shivering and furious. “Killian! What is wrong with you?”

He didn't answer. He went to a cabinet, pulled out a small black vial, and swallowed a pill.

A sedative. A high-dose suppressant. He’d rather poison his own system than give in.

I climbed out of the tub, dripping and humiliated. He threw a heavy cashmere coat at me.

“Cover yourself. Go.”

I grabbed the coat, my eyes burning with tears of rage.

“Fine, Mr. Blackwood,” I spat. “But I promise you this: I’m going to break you. And when I do, you’ll be the one begging.”

I walked out, the wet silk clinging to my skin.