Page 83 of Loving the Liar

“Henry.” Achilles’s deep voice makes the room sound like it’s swallowing the music we were hearing a moment ago. Oh, wait. He turned it off. “Let go, man. She’s not yours to defend.” He nods toward Chris. “But she’s definitely his to take.”

Henry drops my arm like it’s a burning iron. That’s the effect men like Chris and Achilles have on people. They can be so fucking scary by doing so little. You don’t need for a wolf to howl to know you should fear it.

Achilles’s words register and my eyes snap to his.

“His to take?” I gasp as Chris pulls me away. “His to take? I am not a friend you can just whore out, Achilles!” I scream in drunken anger, my words barely forming past my lips.

I don’t know what Achilles says. Only that Peach shouts at him to shut the fuck up and that he’s an asshole. I don’t hear the rest. Chris is already closing the door.

“Are you two on drugs? I’m not yours to take,” I hiss, stopping on the spot and forcing him to stop too.

He won’t drag me away like a caveman. He doesn’t want to hurt my wrist. He wouldn’t put me upside down over his shoulder because it might make me sick, and he wouldn’t hold me by the hair because that’s reserved for the bedroom.

I know how Chris thinks. He doesn’t want to damage me, doesn’t want to make me feel unsafe or embarrassed. He’s too protective over me, even when it comes to his own violence.

“Looks like we’re stuck, Mr. Murray, the wolf.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Ah-ooooh.”

He runs a hand against his forehead. “Did you just howl at me?” With a huff, he releases my wrist. “We’re leaving.”

“To go to the wolf’s den,” I say as seriously as I can before laughing at my own hilarious joke.

“Ella. Don’t make this hard on yourself.”

I cross my arms over my chest, shaking my head until the world around me becomes blurry.

“You’re too drunk to function. This party isn’t safe for you anymore.”

I snort loudly. It’s anything but sexy. “That’s not why you want me to leave.”

“It’s not all of it, but it’s true,” he admits.

“Why, then? Why are you going to leave your own birthday party?” I tilt my chin up, pretending we’re both in positions of power when I know we’re nowhere near equals here.

“You know why.”

I shrug. “Talk to me like I’m an idiot. You love to do that.”

He smiles like I’m just some cute little girl having a tantrum, but I take a step back as he approaches. Not quickly enough. He puts a hand on my waist, drags me closer to him, and talks into my ear.

“You let another man spank you. Worse, you called him a name you know should only be used for me. Now, I’m going to take you home, take care of you, let you sober up, and when I deem you better, I will punish you for what you did.”

I can feel my nipples hardening against his body, and excitement zaps all the way to my lower stomach, a band tightening there. This isn’t good. It isn’t good at all.

But it feels like the best thing ever.

He pulls away slightly, looking down into my eyes and putting a strand of hair behind my ear. The corner of his mouth tips up. “It’s going to be brutal, and every minute you’re making me stay at this stupid birthday party is another minute of torture for you.”

Taking a full step back this time, he gives me space to walk toward the stairs.

It’s my decision whether we stay or leave. My decision if I want to spend the rest of the night having fun here with my friends. As long as I can bear the consequences.

I squirm on the spot for another minute, hesitating. I can’t go down this road with him. Not again. But how am I meant to resist him when he looks at me with that soft smile, with a glint in his eyes that calls out to the deepest parts of me.

I glance at the game room door that would lead me back to my friends, and then back at the stairs. The bass music from the first floor is so loud it makes the walls tremble.

Chris puts his right hand in his pocket, and brings the left up, looking at the expensive watch on his wrist.

“That’s two minutes already.” He shakes his head. “Who knew you’d become such a brat over the years.” The way he’s looking straight at me makes me realize how drunk I am. His form is blending with the hallway wall he’s leaning on. My hearing might be fuzzy, but I can hear my own voice talking so clearly in my head.

---