Page 53 of Jayce

Damn Circe. I might have to let Shay kill her. Standing there, bathed in the dim glow of the moon, Circe wears nothing, her eyes ablaze with a desperation that makes me pity her.

“Jayce,” she purrs, trying to sound seductive. “I've missed you. I know you’ve missed this.” She waves her hand along the curves of her body. My eyes refuse to follow her motion.

My heart races as I take a step back. I can’t even feel shocked. I should have seen this coming. I wish she’d leave our history in the past.

She’s a haunting reminder of memories I long to forget.

“Circe, I never made you any promises. I don’t understand your obsession.” My voice remains steady despite the frustration raging inside.

Her lips curl into a cruel smile as she steps closer.

“I doubt that. Not when you could have a body like mine instead of skin and bones.” She taunts. Her eyes flick past me to where Shay stands frozen in the doorway. Clear rage bubbles in her veins.

I shake my head as I realize Circe’s goal is to hurt Shay. Anger flares within me, but I need my senses clear. Circe’s plan is about to backfire.

Circe’s smile falters for a moment, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty at the look Shay’s giving her. She shakes off her nerves. Adding a defiant toss of her head, she steps closer toward me. She must have a death wish as her hand reaches out to trace the lines of my jaw.

“You’ll never satisfy him the way I can,” she taunts.

I step back, away from her touch. I must let happen what’s about to happen.

Chapter 36

Shay

My heart pounds with fury. Circe stands there in front of Jayce provocatively, her nakedness a desperate ploy to regain his affection or in a pathetic attempt to make me believe he’s cheating.

My fists clench at my sides. Anger boils within me. The overload of emotions threatens to snuff out my sanity.

It’s all too much. The things I can’t give Jayce, my sperm donor’s arrival, a twisted man who believes he owns me, my real parents not knowing I’m not their blood child, and the long line of women Jayce shoved his dick inside.

I’ve endured the crap show that is my life long enough. Add Circe’s games and I’m at my breaking point. This blatant display of manipulation is my last straw.

I surge forward, my movements fueled by an instinct to protect what’s mine. To defend Jayce from Circe’s misguided advances.

With a guttural cry, I launch my entire body at Circe, my every muscle coiled with pent-up rage.

My nemesis’ eyes widen in shock as my onslaught descends upon her. Circe’s attempts at defense are laughable against the ferocity of my assault.

I rain blow after blow upon Circe—each strike propelled by the full force of weeks of pent-up fury.

Circe’s not helpless. With a swift motion, she dodges my wild swings before delivering a sharp kick to my abdomen, momentarily knocking the wind from my lungs. The kick sends me stumbling backward. My vision swims with pain, fueled by rage. I gasp for breath.

I refuse to yield to this beotch. My determination to put her in her place burns brighter than ever.

I roar as if my animal is finally awake.

I lunge back at her, my movements controlled by a renewed sense of purpose.

Punch after punch, I pummel Circe relentlessly. In my mind, I’m not just fighting Circe. It’s Daphne, Maria, Penelope—all of his sweet butts.

My fists are a blur of motion. I fight to vanquish the taunts of every one of the beotchs who dared touch my mate.

Despite Circe’s desperate attempts to turn the fight in her favor, my resolve proves unyielding.

With a final, decisive strike, I send Circe’s naked body crashing to the ground, the impact echoing through the park like thunder.

With both of us bloodied and bruised, I stand over this woman who made herself my adversary, heaving with exertion.

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