“You can kick me, curse me, scratch and claw at me.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
Thane ignored Delancey’s insolence. “I'll even let you spit on me, if that's what you need.”
Delancey snort was equal parts disrespect and disbelief.
“In a twisted way, I'll love you all the more for the fight you give me. But remember this, precious girl, you will forgive me. You always do. Then you’ll be mine once again. And this time, I won't ever let you go.”
Delancey’s eyes flew to his, and she forgot everything. The past, the present, the future, it all ceased to exist. It was just her and Thane’s eyes. His pale, green, piercing eyes. They were eyes that could cut through glass, and she knew from experience that they would cut through a person. Only the sharp edge of his tongue could cause more grievous harm than those eyes, the eyes focused on her.
Delancey needed Sebastian here to keep her from killing her previously dead, recently resurrected asshole of a husband.
Although, now that she thought about it, Sebastian was as likely to kill Thane as she was. Only he would be colder and crueler, more clinical and exceedingly efficient. Whereas hers would be a crime of passion, his would be a precise, calculated act of revenge.