Page 59 of Wild Angel

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

My mouth hangs open until I remember to close it. “Little late for apologies, don’t you—”

“You lookedsofucking beautiful, no one could keep their eyes off you.”

His eyes dart from the mirror to the road, to the mirror. When I realize what he’s saying, I bristle, pushing myself up straight as I glare at his reflection.

“Now this ismyfault?”

“Don’t you take that tone with me.”

I let out a frustrated yell and punch the door. It doesn’t help my mood that I don’t even leave a dent in it. “You fucking dick head!”

“Don’t say it, Nyx,” Savage warns in a low growl. He throws the car into another quick turn, and then we’re going down a steep incline. He slams on the brakes and sticks his hand out of the window, snatching at the ticket that the parking bay’s automated machine spits out.

The bar lifts, and Savage drives through. Strip lights flash overhead, flooding the cab before draining away. Again and again, speeding up as Savage races through the underground parking bay.

“I’m not a fucking drug lord like you!” I yell.

“Nyx—”

“I don’t go aroundflayingpeople.”

This time, Savage doesn’t say anything. But his face is a storm. And that annoys me. I want him to yell back.

I want him tofight.

I try to take off my seat belt, but I pull it too hard and it jams.

“I don’t cut someone’s goddamn face off if they look at me the wrong way, do I?”

“Enough,” he says. Quiet. Sofuckingquiet.

“I’m not a goddamn, motherfuckingmonster!”

A wall rears up, partially hidden in gloom.

Savage slams on the brakes, and for a second it feels like the SUV isn’t going to stop in time. If I hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, my brains would have been splattered all over the headrest.

We’re at the far back of the parking bay, in the area where more than one fluorescent light is no longer firing.

I’m clutching the seatbelt, my lungs frozen with terror, when Savage kicks open his door and charges around the side of the car.

Oh lord.

I think I’m going to get my wish.

Judging from the expression on Savage’s face, he’s going to beat me so hard, I’llneverremember this night. Maybe I won’t even rememberhim.

Fuck it, I’ll be paraplegic when he’s done with me.

I scream hoarsely and scramble over the seats, yanking at the door handle opposite. But it’s locked. I try and climb over the seats, heading for the gaping-open driver’s-side door, but a hand closes over my leg and drags me back.

Savage sits in the seat with a thump, and despite how I kick and claw and yell, he simply draws me over his lap. Then my dress is up around my hips, cool air caressing my bare ass a second before he grabs my ass with both hands andsqueezes.

I gasp—part in indignation, partly because my body really likes it when he manhandles me.

The first slap comes out of nowhere. When I try and reach behind me to claw him, he wraps his fingers around my wrists and grinds them together so hard I yelp.

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