"I am not a saint. I am a sin who will devour you, worship every inch of you until you forget where pain ends and pleasure begin." Her jaw clenched. A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. "I am your biggest mistake, Mr. Yugarth Singh Rathore." His laugh was a shard of glass in the darkness. He leaned in, a promise of violence in his eyes. "Careful. My mistakes don't get second chances. They get buried." Her jaw tightened, a last, futile show of strength. "Don't try to touch me. Stay away." His smirk was a wolf's, baring teeth. "You're saying this when I am already burning deep inside you, little dove? "Your body is my sanctuary," he murmured, voice a low rumble that vibrated through her veins, dark as the abyss they danced on the edge of. "The only thing I ever worship is you. I am devoted to every inch of you." “I don’t worship gods,” he murmured. “I worship the ruin I chose… and that ruin is you.”