Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“You are such a fucking piece of shit! I came all the way here because you wanted me safe, and then when I get here, you sleep with every bitch walking!” I turn toward the two girls standing against the red Camaro. “No offense.”
Offense intended. I may be a bitch, but I'm a polite bitch.
For the most part.
Okay, I try.
I continue. “I even saw you getting your motherfucking dick sucked, Hella. So screw you!” His eyes narrow to slits, the corner of his mouth twisting. Saliva pools on my tongue. Running on pure adrenaline and weeks of sexual frustration, I close the gap between us, my finger drilling into his chest. “And I will fuck who I want.”
His hand shoots up to catch my finger, tugging my body against his. I grit my teeth as his thick shaft presses insistently against my stomach.
His jaw locks, the growl rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “No, you fucking won't.”
Yanking my hand out of his iron grip with more force than necessary, I whirl around and begin stalking toward my car, my boots crunching against the gravel with each determined step.
The humid night air clings to my skin as I throw my words over my shoulder. “We'll see about that, Hella. You may think you control who I sleep with around here, strutting around like some king with your little harem of club girls. Still, out there,” I gesture wildly toward the dark stretch of asphalt beyond the compound gates, where the streetlights create pools of yellow light in the distance, “out there in the real world, you have absolutely nothing on me.”
I put distance between us, his stare branding into my back. Metallic fury coats my tongue, mixing with bitter realization—while hurling insults at him, my body still responds to his proximity with an ache I seriously need to ignore.
“Keep thinking that, baby,” he laughs behind me.
I flip him off, start toward my car, then pivot back to the bar. Too sober for this shit.
Seventeen
Hella
Ifollow Melissa back into the clubhouse after Yana takes the girls back to her place.
“You gonna deal with that mess?” Ripper jerks his chin toward Melissa, who has likely consumed enough booze to stock her own distillery.
Beast raises his brows at me in question.
I exhale, pushing off the chair.
“Yeah, you better,” Beast yells from his spot. “It's your fucking fault to begin with,” he adds before returning to Ripper to talk about cleaning up the dead body Layla created.
I flip him off and walk toward the bar. Melissa shuffles off the stool, tapping Nyx's shoulder. I narrow my eyes at him. The fucker hasn't stuck to staying away from her, but I've eased up. He's good, and she needs someone while Yana's with Beast and Jada's working.
She spins around, her body colliding with mine. Her gaze drags from my boots to my face, and her shoulders drop as a breath escapes her lips.
“Well, this is a complete case of déjà vu,” she slurs, white blonde strands falling over her shoulder.
Her palms press against my chest before sliding away, fingers limp. Her eyelids flutter, struggling against gravity. “Get outta my way, Hella.” The words tumble out flat. No spark, no venom. Just hollow exhaustion where her usual flame should burn. She shuffles past me toward the door, each step unsteady.
Our fingers intertwine, rough against smooth. “Come on, I'll take you home.”
Her words slur into nonsense as her eyelids drop and her body goes limp. “Whoa!” I catch her, one arm around her waist, the other under her knees. She feels light against my chest.
My eyes squeeze shut, teeth grinding. “Fuck.”
Beast and Ripper's boots thud across the floorboards toward me. “I'll drive the van. We'll take her home.”
I nod, swallowing past whatever the fuck it is that’s making me hesitate. “Yeah, good idea.”
We push through the front door of Jada’s. Yana's body jerks upright from the sofa, her shoulders squaring as her eyes lock onto Melissa's limp form in my arms. I brush past her without a glance, boots heavy on each step. The first bedroom door swings open. Clothes scattered like breadcrumbs across the hardwood, and a single bed pushed against the far wall.
As soon as I hit the bedroom, I pull back the covers and place her down on the bed. Her blonde hair fans across the pillow, and my hands hover over her face, uncertain.
I should leave now.
I should stay.
Her peaceful face draws me in, softening something jagged inside me, but the thought of changing her out of those clothes makes my fingers curl into fists at my sides. I've killed men without hesitation, yet this simple act of care feels dangerous, forbidden. The fabric is wrinkled and twisted from the night's events, and she'd probably sleep more comfortably in something loose. But then reality kicks in, and I figure she'd probably lose her absolute shit if she woke up and realized I had stripped her down while she was unconscious.