Page 21 of Vengeful Lies

“Wouldn’t most women ask if I stabbed the man instead?”

“Well, that much is fucking obvious. Give me my knife back.”

The corner of his lip tilts. “No. This is mine now. And shouldn’t you be apologizing for smashing a glass over someone’s head in my establishment?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “It was an accident. My hand, which so happened to have a glass in it, slipped andaccidentallyhit him in the face. And I don’t need you to defend me. I canhandle myself,” I say, flipping my hair over my shoulder and leaning over the bar. “But now I’m really fucking thirsty since your presence, as usual, puts me in a mood.”

He leans in, and I hate how acutely aware of his body heat I am. Of the harsh, intoxicating smell of his cologne. My nostrils flare, and I hate the fact I like how good this fucker smells. I nudge him away. “You’re too fucking close. And shouldn’t you smell like melting skin or maggots or something?”

This time, he does smirk as he holds his hand out expectantly to the bartender, who hands him a white cloth. Then he begins wiping down the bloody knife as if it’s the most normal thing to do at a bar. “So you like how I smell?”

I look up at him, dumbstruck. “Wow. You really do love yourself, don’t you? Also, your bartenders are shit servers.”

That grabs the attention of one of them, and they give me a death stare. I shrug. “What? You haven’t once asked me what I want.”

“You’re bleeding,” Eli states.

“What?” I’m startled as he grabs my hand and stares at the small cuts on my palm. Fuck, I hadn’t even noticed.

“Fucking hell. Hey.” I wave at the bartender with my good hand. “Can I get another one of those cloths?”

Eli grabs hold of my wrist, assessing the wounds in the dim light. I’m startled by his firm grip, yet his eyebrows furrow as if concerned by the damage.

“Look what you went and did.” He drops my hand and reaches over the bar for a napkin before he lifts my hand again.

“Does this mean I can go home early? Since I’m wounded and all?” I ask innocently.

“No, you’ll stay for at least an hour. And moving forward, the only one to hurt you will be me.”

I look at him, once again dumbstruck. “Wow. So romantic.”

“Do you want romance, Kitten?”

My face naturally twists of its own accord. “Keep that shit to your blonde-haired girlfriend; she seems like the type to enjoy it.”

“I don’t do girlfriends,” he states. “Now, you’re coming upstairs with me so we can fix this.”

I lean in, my boots giving me some height as I stand on my tippy-toes to reach his ear. “I’ll give you a heads-up. I don’t respond well to being told what to do.”

His mouth grazes my ear, and I can’t help but momentarily sink into the undeniable intoxication that this asshole radiates.

“I know you want to be forced into submission, sweetheart, so your sharp little tongue can wag all it wants. I’ll cut it out if I have to. And then I’ll shove my cock so deeply down your throat, you won’t know if you’re choking to death on my cock or your own blood.”

A shudder runs down my spine. The threat and the visual it conjures is terrifying, and yet there’s a warmth that floods to my core.

I pull back and grin at him, really appreciating the lines on his face. “You’re so beautiful.” I slowly lift my good hand as I press one fine-tipped nail to his forehead. “And you’ll be prettier with a bullet between these brows.”

The fucker has the audacity to actually laugh.

It’s as equally unhinged as it is beautiful.

CHAPTER 11

Eli

Most women would run for the hills or, at the very least, flinch at my provocation. Not this woman, though. She’s currently sulking in my private booth, stabbing at her drink with a straw as if it’s personally offended her.

I plucked out the two slivers of glass embedded in her palm and thoroughly bandaged it. Other than a few shallow cuts, her hand was fine. She’d even had the effrontery to say “it was nothing” under her breath more than once.

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