Page 4 of Sugar Coated

That smirk of his made me feel things, and as he stepped further into the room, Fang cocked his head at the man beside me. Blood splatter lined his white skin, on his neck, on his face, but he held onto nothing; no gun and no knife, and it instantly made me wonder if those teeth of his got a workout as he fought his way in here.

“Are you sure you should be pointing that gun at her and not at me?” Fang’s voice came out low and deadly, his tone making it clear he still itched for a fight. “If I were you, I’d aim it at the person who’s not tied-up.”

It was true I should pay attention to the man with the gun beside me, but at the same time, I couldn’t take my eyes off Fang. The blood splatter suited him, made him look more than dangerous, and that smirk… I was struck by how much my lower gut fluttered.

Fang had a darkness of his own. It shouldn’t surprise me; I knew the man was peculiar, to say the least, but knowing he’d tear through men to get to me filled me with a sense of satisfaction nothing else in the world could.

I felt it, the moment the man with the gun hesitated. The pressure between my temple and the barrel lessened, and as Fang took another step forward, he must’ve decided it would indeed be smarter to point it at him and not at me.

But by the time he’d decided it, it was too late.

Fang moved fast, so fast it took my mind a few seconds to comprehend what was happening. He lunged at the man with the gun the same moment he swung that gun toward him and pulled the trigger. he took the man down to the ground effortlessly, the bullet having missed its mark. I turned my head to watch as he brought his mouth to the man’s neck and bit deep.

The man swore up a storm, and with a jerk of Fang’s head, part of his throat tore clean off.

Or, I should say, just tore off. Nothing was clean about the wound or the gush of blood that followed suit. Fang spat out the chunk of throat, along with whatever blood came with it, as he stood and kicked the pistol away from the gasping man.

All Fang said as he gazed down at the dying man was, “I told you so.”

The man was in shock, trying to staunch the flow of blood from his neck wound, but it was too deep, in too perfect a spot. Fang knew right where to bite to get to that oh so important artery that would let you bleed out in less than a minute if it was severed. You could see the man growing weaker and weaker as the seconds ticked on, and as Fang turned to me, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of proud and turned on. Soon enough, the man was nothing more than a still-warm corpse, his blood pooling on the floor around him, adding another stain to the room.

“Fang,” I breathed out his name. “How did you—”

“Shh,” he soothed me, momentarily reminding me of my Devil as he lifted a hand to my face and gently ran his fingertips along my cheek. “There will be time for questions later, Princess. For now, let’s get you out of here.”

There would be no arguing with that… mostly because half of my mind was thrown back to that party, where my Devil finally came for me and made me his. What a night.

Fang swiftly moved behind me and worked on untying my wrists, gentle with me all the while. Once they were free, he knelt in front of me and untied my ankles as I rubbed each wrist. I didn’t understand how he was here, but he was right: there would be time for questions and answers later.

The next time those silver eyes of his glanced up at me, he stared at a spot on my cheek, the opposite one he touched before—where the other man hit me twice—and his expression darkened. “I’m sorry we did not get here sooner.” He set a hand on my knee while he gazed up at me, expectant and sorrowful, like he really wished he could rewind time and save me the pain.

I reached for him, and as I leaned forward, Fang did the same. Our foreheads touched, and my eyelids fluttered closed as I whispered, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you came.” I was seconds from asking who else came when the door to the room got kicked in by a muscular, six-and-a-half-foot tall mountain of a man holding a gun that must’ve seen quite the workout here.

Fang twirled around, leaping to his feet, ready to take action again, but his shoulders relaxed when he noticed who it was. “Ah, there you are. What took you so long?”

The look Mike gave him right then was one for the books. “I fucking told you not to advance until we cleared the room—”

“Yeah, and I elected to ignore you and go straight for our girl,” Fang declared matter-of-factly as he took me by the hand and helped me to my feet. I was a little unsteady, thoughwhether that was due to the adrenaline of the entire situation or the fact that I was drugged, I didn’t know.

And hearing Fang sayour girlgave me this warm, fuzzy feeling—a warm, fuzzy feeling that dwindled when Mike turned his hazel eyes to me. Though there were feet between us, not to mention a very protective Fang, I could see the fury in them.

Mike was pissed.

Pissed I snuck out of the house, pissed I put myself in danger, just pissed all around.

Then his gaze fell to my hand—which Fang still held onto, even after I was safely on my own two feet—and I began to wonder if, maybe, he was also pissed because he was a tad bit jealous.

“Why don’t you get all this sorted here and I’ll take her back to my place to clean her up? You seem like you’re… better at stuff like that than I am.” With a wink toward Mike, Fang pulled me along, and as we passed Mike, it took everything in me to pretend I didn’t notice the fire and fury in his expression.

Mike didn’t want to stay here and clean up, but at the same time, he didn’t say a word more, thereby letting Fang and I go on without him.

Still playing the brooding, pouting game, I see. He really was acting like he didn’t have me naked in his bed not that long ago. Course, that was mainly my doing, but whatever. The details weren’t important.

Fang knew his way out. He took me through a short hall, then out into what looked to be a run-down house where no one lived. The windows were boarded up, the rooms we passed full of nothing but bodies and blood now, no furniture to be seen. I counted at least ten men on our way out the door.

Ten men paid to kidnap me. A mini-gang. With how public my life had been lately, it made me think whoever orchestrated this had some pretty deep pockets.

We stepped out into the night air, and Fang brought me to his car, where he opened the passenger door for me and only let go of my hand once I was seated. As he walked around and got in beside me, I let my gaze linger on the house that I’d been brought to, knowing Mike was still in there with all those bodies.

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