Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Serves him right for coveting what belongs to me.
“Vee?” he asks like a goddamn idiot, staring at us with eyes so wide, they’d be comical under different circumstances.
She snaps out of it. Her body that was soft and pliant in my hold stiffens, her small hands fisting against my chest.
Violet tries to push me away as if that were even possible.
I lean down, speaking so low, so close to her ear that only she can hear me. “One wrong move, and I’ll slice his throat open and fuck you in his goddamn blood.”
Her eyes widen as I push back, her entire body going into shock.
Blondie doesn’t step forward, just watches from a distance, like when I snatched her away from him. He doesn’t attempt to protect her or take her back.
And this is her type? Like fuck he is.
“Who are you to Vee…?”
“Violet.” I maneuver her to my side, my arm still on her lower back. “Her name is Violet. And she’s mine; that’s all you need to know.”
I can feel her rigidity, but she won’t fight it. She’s that responsible and annoyingly cares about others, so she won’t let herself be the reason for her little friend’s death.
Though I wouldn’t really kill him and just said that to keep her in line.
I’d still break his arm, though.
“Uh…” He rubs his nape, staring at the ground and then back at Violet. “You didn’t mention you were going out with the Jude Callahan.”
He knows who I am.
Even better.
“We’re not going out…” She trails off when I tighten my grip on her waist, then sighs. “It’s complicated.”
“Oh, okay.” He gives a small pout like a fucking child whose candy has been taken away, not even mad that his fuck mission for the night was aborted.
“I’m sorry, Toby.” She tries to release herself from my grip to no avail. “You’re a great guy. I don’t want to put you in this mess.”
Great guy?
Great fucking guy?
What bad taste in men.
“Nah, that’s fine. You’re kind of out of my league anyway. But…” He rubs his nape again. “Can I have your autograph, Callahan? I’m a huge fan. My friends will be mad jealous.”
Violet goes lax in my grip, not even attempting to hide the look of disappointment on her face.
Her type was so ready to throw her away for an autograph.
I’m suppressing a smile as I nod. There’s no pen or paper around, so Tobias—that’s his name—asks Violet for her lipstick and tells me to sign the tank top beneath his shirt.
He barely even looks at her as he turns around and leaves with a bit of a spring in his step.
I mean, he should be happy, considering he left with an autograph instead of a broken arm.
Violet has already stepped away from me, clutching her wrist. No, the tattoo on her wrist.
The one that she uses to calm down or pull herself from whatever ledge her brain pushes her toward.
I roll the lipstick tube in my hand. “Want an autograph as well? Maybe somewhere bolder? Your tits, maybe.”
She takes it from my grip and slides it into her bag. “No, thanks. I’m not a fan.”
My jaw clenches. “You seem to be Davenport’s fan, considering how you praise his play style more than the tabloid hacks paid by his dad.”
She’s still staring down, fiddling with the zipper of her bag, her hair that looks prettier than usual flying in the wind. “That’s because he doesn’t get high on violence, unlike a certain someone—”
I’m in her space now, which is why she jerks her head up so fast and cuts her words off. “So your type is nonviolent people like Tobias, who wouldn’t even lift a finger if you were in danger.”
She swallows but keeps her chin up. “You don’t know that. People act unpredictably when faced with danger.”
“Or maybe it’s their true nature that shows. Here’s the thing, Violet.” I step closer and she stumbles in her attempts to escape me, but I wrap my arm around her waist, trapping her against my chest. “I don’t give a fuck who your type is. From now on, I’m your only type.”
She releases a long exhale. “Why are you doing this, Jude? Because you can? Because messing with an insignificant person’s life brings you so much joy?”
“It does.”
“You know what I think? I think you’re only holding on to the remnants of your rage because without vengeance and killing and unleashing your monster side on others, you’d have to face the hollow emptiness lurking inside you.” She taps my chest with her finger. “Right here.”
I grab her hand and twist it away. “You’re into psychoanalyzing now? Shouldn’t you have used these abilities on your clusterfuck of a fragile mental state and mommy issues?”
“We both have mommy issues, it seems.”
“One big difference. I wouldn’t kill myself, and my mother loved me, unlike your waste-of-space mom.”