Page 90 of Hunting Pretty

I was wrong.

“You snobby bitch.” Cormac had morphed into a stranger, his usually pretty boy features hardening into cruel lines.

“Let go of me.” I yanked my arm, trying to get out of his grip.

His grip tightened around my forearm and I knew it would leave a bruise. “You are coming with me.”

Every muscle tensed as if bracing for impact, a cold shiver running down my spine.

I didn’t know where Cormac was taking me, but I didn’t want to go.

Fuck, where was my knife?

It was still lying forgotten on the marble floor in the hallway.

“No.” I aimed for his crotch with my knee. But he had me pressed right up against the counter and I had no leverage.

He deflected my knee with his thigh and scowled, his voice growing hard and bitter. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Take your fucking hands off her.”

A familiar deep voice boomed through the kitchen.

Relief surged through me as my stalker appeared in theentrance dressed in his usual all-black ensemble, his leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders.

I’d never seen his intense piercing eyes so icy and lethal. If looks could kill, Cormac would be dead already.

I realized then that my stalker had never really been a threat to me.

He’d glared at me with anger, with annoyance and frustration. But never withthismurderous intention.

Cormac whirled his head around toward the voice, his grip on me loosening enough at the distraction that I was able to yank my arm out.

I ran right into my stalker’s outstretched arm.

His grip tightened around my shoulders as he pulled me against his muscular body, shifting so that he was standing between me and my ex.

I melted against him, letting his strong hold calm me.

I know how ironic that sounds. From one monster’s grasp to another. Stupid, right?

I had no qualms that my stalker was just a predator protecting his prey from another predator.

But as crazy as it sounded, my stalker feltsafe. He protected me before. He was protecting me here.

Even if it was just to protect me so that he could punish me himself.

I’d deal with that later. One dangerous situation at a time.

“Who the fuck is this?” Cormac demanded, eyeing my stalker up and down with a sneer.

“He’s my…” My stalker? My evil lover? My death sentence I kind of want to sign?

“Her boyfriend,” my stalker interrupted.

My what now?

I gulped down a gasp as I stared up at his stern, sculpted profile.

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