Page 12 of Pitiful Lies

It’s this stone I saw once that’s a mix of yellow and green. Like celery, for lack of a better comparison.

Koukla has eyes like that. Cat eyes. And they are just as gorgeous as the rest of her.

“Change of plans. We’re driving back.”

I turn the engine on with the push of a button and adjust the controls so we ride in comfort. I reach behind her seat and find one of my sweatshirts, and I hold it out to her.

“What? I am not sitting in a car with you for twenty hours, Angel,” she says, and my blood hums at the sound of my name on her mouth.

Next time she says it, she’ll be screaming it.

That’s a promise I make to myself.

“Take the sweatshirt. And don’t worry, I have an impeccable driving record,” I say, pretending that’s what her objection is about.

“Yeah, right. I've seen you drive, buddy,” she mutters, but I notice she’s checking her seatbelt.

For a moment, I thought maybe she would try to fight me on this or jump out. But Giselle is not stupid.

Jumping out of a car, even if it’s only doing twenty-five miles per hour, is a pretty risky move.

Just in case, though, I lock the doors.

“Pull over at the next gas station. I’ll Uber back to my parents’ condo,” she says.

“I don’t think so.”

I snicker out loud. This girl is so damn feisty with me. Like she doesn’t care that I’m more than twice her size with a reputation that would intimidate most grown men.

It should annoy me, but it doesn’t. When Giselle gets all mouthy with me, hell, it just turns me on all the more.

I want her.

I mean that. I want this woman in a completely obsessive way.

I always fucking want her.

And that’s, well, that’s new.

That’s the real reason I can’t just forget about her. I can’t just let her go. Can’t watch her walk out on me.

Not gonna happen.

I mean, I fucking tried. Maybe I’m just too old. Or too jaded. Or just too damn fucking mean to leave this woman alone.

I’m not good for her.

I know I’m not.

Ask anyone what the name Angel Fury means, and they’ll tell you the same thing.

It means death.

Yeah, I got blood on my hands. A lot of it. I’m a motherfucking Viper. I am the Enforcer.

No one walks away from me and survives. Now, that never applied to women before, but Giselle isn’t some one night stand.

She isn’t one of those women who knows the rules. You know the ones I mean. The hard ones. Like groupies, only I ain’t a fucking rock star. I am something else.

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