Page 6 of Ruthless Moon

Her eyes flash, and her sad expression morphs to anger. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. I don’t get a choice.”

“Of course you do.” Confusion and worry tie a knot in my stomach. Why is she rejectingus?

She rises from the bench and puts both her hands on my chest and pushes.

I don’t have to move, but I do.

“I can’t believe...today of all days...” She leans into me and sobs, and I lose all conscious thought for a moment.

She fits.

Like a fucking glove.

It’s better than I imagined. Every part of my body wants to be touching her. Covering her. Holding her. Keeping her.

“Tell me your name,” I whisper into her hair.

“Gen.” She backs away, carefully wipes the tears from her eyes without smudging her mascara, and then looks me square in the face. The eye contact is intense. “You have to forget you ever saw me. Do you understand?”

I sputter a protest. “N-no.”Is she joking?

“Never mention this. You can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry.” And then she ducks to the side and rushes away.

Fuck.She’s not joking.

Pain sears through my chest, leaving me with a metallic taste in my mouth. I unclench my teeth from where I bit down on my tongue. Ignoring a fated bond isn’t just a rejection—it’s a slow, agonizing torture for both souls involved. She can’t ignore this. We’re meant to be together. We’re fated. I’m not letting her throw away this chance.

She weaves through the crowd, running from me. I maintain my distance but keep her beautiful blonde hair in sight, following her. Gorgeous and mine, she believes there’s a problem...but I’ll fix whatever it is. Letting her go isn’t an option.

She stops on the porch of Trailhouse, the steak house where Aiden’s meeting with Oliver Gallagher and family is about to take place. After brushing off her shirt and wiping her palms on her jeans, she straightens, squares her shoulders, and struts inside, oozing confidence like she’s the Queen of fucking Sheba.

A few feet away, my brother calls out, “Liam, over here.”

I take one more look at the door to the steak house and then stalk over to join my brother. We’re not allowed to enter the restaurant. Not tonight.

But she can’t stay in there forever.

Chapter Three

Sometimes Evil Wins the Day

IMOGEN GALLAGHER

I stare at myself in the full-length bathroom mirror of Trailhouse. My dad would’ve birthed a cow if I’d shown up to this engagement dinner in boots and jeans, so I’d dropped off a change of clothes with the manager of the restaurant before I went looking for Mr. Darcy.

Instead of boots that make me feel strong and jeans that give me a sense of wearing armor, I’m wearing a little black dress. Skinny straps with a deep V-neck. It fits me like a glove and then flares at my thighs. Short in the front and long in the back, nearly to my ankles. Somefuck mered Jimmy Choo stiletto mules with little crystal bands that drape across my feet like low-riding ankle bracelets finish the alpha-princess-on-a-silver-platter look.

I fidget with my Mohawk braid, puffing it here and there. I already touched up my makeup and gave myself an evening-worthy smoky eye that makes me feel more protected. Stronger. My bright blue eyes pop from beneath the dark eyeliner and beg me to take a chance and fight.

That man outside—Liam—is my mate. I saw the shimmer in the air. I felt the connection. I felt his pain when I told himno. I desperately want meeting him to change everything. A tiny part of me wishes he could save me.

But terror consumes me, and fear quickly and efficiently burns away that tiny sliver of hope, returning me to my current reality.

Liam will only ever be a dream. A thought. A wish.

Anything more than that would put him in my father’s crosshairs right along with the death threat he holds over my friend Rachel’s head.

My reputation as a tough I-will-beat-you bitch for my father is a facade I wear like a shield. Underneath it all I have no control over my life. If I didn’t pretend to be tough as nails, I wouldn’t survive. My father doesn’t allow weakness and if you show it, he’ll beat it out of you.

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