Page 9 of Alliance

“Yep.”

She takes a sip of her drink, wrapping her full lips around the plastic straw. There’s a beast inside of me that comes to life at the action, watching her suck the liquid from the cup, imagining those lips wrapped around my cock. I try to shake the dirty image from my mind.

Her fingers poke at a clump of the white glittery cotton. “Have you ever seenrealsnow?” she asks with the curiosity of a small child.

“No,” I tell her. “But I hear it’s annoying as fuck.”

Hazel eyes shoot up to mine and a laugh bursts from her lips. “I’d like to see it,” she tells me. “It sounds magical.” She says the word with a sense of idealism I envy. As if she can see all the beauty in the world, while I’m left here seeing everything as only white or black, good or bad.

She takes another gulp of her liquid courage, grimacing as it slides down her throat.

“Bad day?” I ask, my eyes flashing to her half-empty glass.

Those hazel eyes fly up to meet mine, the flecks of gold shining in the flashing lights. “Terrible,” she says, and for some reason I love the way that word sounds on her lips. I want to ease her of her demons, make her day better.

“Can I remedy it?” I ask her, leaning in closer, enough to smell the honey and lavender scent of her hair.

Her breath comes out in a heavy pant and for a minute I think she’ll tell me to fuck off, but she doesn’t. “Yeah, can we get out of here?”

Chapter Five

NAZ DOESN’T WASTE A MOMENTonce the words leave my lips. He ushers me outside the club, to a shiny black Jeep parked on the street. With a click of the key fob, the lights come to life and the car unlocks. He lifts me into the passenger seat with such ease before rounding the car and hopping into the driver’s side.

“Where to?” he asks, the engine roaring to life.

“Far,” I say, and I’m met with a chuckle.

“What are you trying to escape,bella?”He doesn’t put the car in drive, instead he removes his hand from the gearshift and turns his attention on me. His warm eyes penetrate me, seeing through my brittle exterior, past the façade that my family has created.

What am I trying to escape?

I play with the idea of telling him about my arranged marriage. About the ring that I have stuffed in my underwear drawer back home. About my parents who showed no sympathy when I came back to the kitchen with an angry red mark blooming on my arm.

Today, for the first time since her death, I felt angry with Lily. She met this man and took the easy way out; she jumped to escape him and with her escape she put me directly in the path of the lion.

I want to tell Naz all of this. All the thoughts spiraling through my head that led me to calling Molly and leaving my house tonight.

I don’t though, out of fear that he’ll call me naïve.

A stupid, silly girl.

I was raised in this town, in this family. I know how the game works, I know the power plays, and yet I thought that behaving and looking pretty would somehow exempt me from them.

And what would he say to me? There’s nothing he can do to change this, to fix this broken situation. He knows. I know he knows what my family plans to do. If he’s a true soldier, he’ll probably drive me right back home, dropping me off on the front porch with a bow.

Those deep eyes are studying me as the thoughts roll through my head, threatening to take over and send me back into a panic. His tattooed hand reaches up to his throat, his thumb and forefinger slipping over the St. Jude pendant. I don’t think he even notices that he does it, it’s just an instinct.

Naz is handsome in a bad boy way. He’s not the type of man my parents would ever approve of. The black ink that peeks out of his button-down shirt, working its way toward his throat, would give my mother a heart attack. Even his fingers are covered, the ink extending toward his nail beds. For some reason that I can’t place, it sends a rush of heat to my core.

His hair is slicked back, dark as black ink, and buzzed on either side. He looks well-groomed but there’s a few days’ worth of stubble that covers his chin and my mind wanders to thoughts of how it would feel between my thighs.

“Everything,” I finally answer his question. “I’m trying to escape everything.”

He moves a hand to his face, rubbing over his chin thoughtfully. I don’t want him to overthink this. I want him to take me home; I want to feel him between my legs, his mouth on my skin; I want to erase Davis’ hand from my body; I want to experience a man that I choose.

And I definitely did not choose Davis LaFontaine.

“Take me to your house,” I breathe. “Please.”

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