Page 54 of Draven

I march into the bathroom and slam the door, locking it behind me. Seething, I brace my hands on either side of the sink and scowl into the mirror. Red blotches cover my neck and chest—a sure sign of just how furious I am. How dare he? How dare he! Cheaters are the worst. The lowest of the low. Scum. And because of him, I’m now the unwitting other woman. Ugh.

The door handle moves downward. “Lola, open the door.”

“Screw you.”

“Last warning.”

“Or what?” I hit back. “Fuck off, Draven.”

He doesn’t answer. Seconds later, he bursts through the door, leaving it hanging from a single hinge.

“Jesus Christ! You’re crazy. You owe me a door.”

“You owe me an apology.”

I snort. “For what? Calling you out on your shit?”

He shoves me out of the way of the sink, grabs a washcloth, and runs it under the faucet. He holds it to his busted lip, his eyes now two dark pools of rage.

“Bite me again, and you’ll live to regret it.”

I go toe to toe with him. “Newsflash, Draven. You don’t scare me.”

“No?” He leans over the sink, spitting blood onto the porcelain. After rinsing the cloth out, he presses it to his mouth again. “You should be scared, sweetcheeks.”

A sense of unease takes root in my belly. I don’t think for one second he’ll lay a finger on me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t seek retribution in some other form, probably when I least expect it.

I draw in a shuddering breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you already had a girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a fucking girlfriend.”

A colorless laugh spills out of me. “Don’t lie to me.”

He drops the washcloth in the sink, then looms over me, drawing my eyes to a muscle beating furiously in his cheek. Fisting both his hands by his sides, he grinds out, “I. Don’t. Lie. Ever. You got that, sweetcheeks?”

I plant my hands on my hips, refusing to avert my gaze, even though every instinct I possess screams at me to stare at the floor, the wall, even the splatters of blood in the sink. To look anywhere except at the man standing in front of me.

“If she’s not your girlfriend, then who is this precious love of your life? The one you can’t live without.”

A ghost of a smile appears on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “My niece. Ruby is my sister’s only child, and the one human being in this world I’d die for.”

Horror congeals in my chest, and my mouth goes dry. Oh, no. Louise, you idiot. I close my eyes, then slowly open them, meeting his cold stare. “Shit. God. I-I’m sorry.” I sweep a hand over my face. “I’m not thinking straight.”

Without saying a word, he spins on his heel and returns to the bedroom while I hang back, unsure what my next move should be. I can hear him moving around, clearly getting dressed. Goddamn. Me and my big mouth. I’ve always had a temper, and I often shoot from the hip before considering all possible angles. Kiera was the serene one, the rational one, the sensible one. That’s why she’d been my anchor. Yin and Yang. Positive and negative. Cool water to my blazing fire.

The problem with Draven and me is that his temper matches my own. There’s no compromise, and no calming influence. I blow up, and he stokes the flames instead of smothering them.

I take a deep breath in through my nose, pursing my lips to allow the slow release of oxygen. I repeat the process another three times until my anger withers. One of us needs to make the first move, and I’ll lay bets it won’t be him. Then again, this latest disagreement is all on me, so it should be me eating a large slice of humble pie. Still, he could have been clearer. What had he expected to happen when he told me Ruby was the love of his life? He could have come straight out and told me she was his niece. Instead, he decided to have some fun at my expense, and now it’s blown up in his face.

I pad into the bedroom in time to see him pull a shirt over his head, covering the tattoo that caused this argument. He must sense I’m here, but he chooses to ignore me as he sits on the edge of the bed to tie his boots.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I should have let you explain.”

Standing, he turns to face me. His lip has stopped bleeding, although it’s definitely swollen.

“I’m going to call in on Rick,” he says flatly, reaching for his leather jacket. “See if he’s discovered anything new.”

“Draven, wait.”

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