Page 9 of Crown of Hate

“He’s evil incarnate.”

“Well, I’ve got a thing for bad boys. So, if you want to pass along my number?—”

“Jesus Christ!” I can’t help but laugh. “You have no idea how dangerous these men are.”

She shrugs. “Danger can be a turn-on.”

“What about hate?”

“Makes for mind-blowing sex. Hell, I?—"

I slap a hand over her mouth before she can finish that thought. How did I forget she’s crazy?

“Hey!” She tries to wriggle from my grip, but I don’t let her.

“You and your nasty mouth.” I poke her ribs, my grip still firm over her mouth. “I’d rather kill him than sleep with him.”

She finally wriggles free, cackling. “Kill him? Girl, you couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

“He’s not a fly, though. That should make it easier.”

Mikhail is anything but a fly. He’s too big, too powerful. A target that’s impossible to miss, and even harder to take down.

Suddenly, the dog next to us barks. “See? Stella’s on my side,” Sophia quips. We both dissolve into giggles. I kneel to pet the old Chow Chow’s fur.

Then I catch sight of the time.

“Oh, shit.” It’s four pm. I grab my bag and swing it over my shoulder. “I gotta go.” Mama’s out of town for a while. She’s visiting her sister in New York for the next couple of months. I need to stop by the post office before it closes, then grab some groceries, and get home early to make myself dinner.

“I’m staying an extra hour,” Sophia says. “See you tomorrow?”

“You bet.” I wave at the fur babies, grinning as they bark their goodbyes.

Outside, the cool breeze kisses my skin. Perfect for a stroll. But I’m only a few blocks in when my scalp suddenly prickles. I stop in my tracks. Someone is watching me. I whirl around, but the street’s empty.

For some reason, I’ve been feeling these occasional prickles ever since I met Mikhail. Of course, my first thought was that he was stalking me. But why would he bother? He made it crystal clear he wasn’t interested.

After a quick look around, I force myself to keep walking. But no matter where I go, that creepy feeling lingers. I keep my eyes down, trying to act normal. If I’m really being followed, there’s no point in tipping them off that I’m onto them.

My casual stroll turns into a brisk walk. Then a power walk. I’m bee-lining for theMini Pot Café,where the busy, bustling atmosphere will offer me a chance to blend in and catch my breath.

Two minutes more. Just two minutes and I’ll be safe.

When the café’s neon sign appears like a beacon of hope, I break into a full-on sprint. I don’t slow down until I’m safely inside, the bell above the door chiming my arrival. Gasping for air, I spin around, half-expecting to see some monster lurking outside. But there’s still no one there.

I must be losing my goddamn mind.

Hurrying to the barista, I order the first thing I see on the menu. When it’s ready, I snag a strategic seat by the window and keep my eyes peeled for anyone suspicious. No one stands out, but the feeling doesn’t go away, even as I gulp down my coffee.

As soon as the last drop is gone, I’m out the door, heading straight for the main road where taxis usually line up.

Taxis. Safety. Home.

I’m about to round a corner when a hand clamps down on me.

The air wooshes from my lungs, and panic explodes in my chest. I clench my fist and swing it wildly at my faceless attacker. But they easily manage to evade my attack and grab my wrist.

“Easy,malyshka.”

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