Page 24 of Mischievous Lies

I don’t care what the reason behind it was; it’s all the same to me.

“So you didn’t touch her?” I say to him, ignoring her obvious smugness. She can lump me in with whatever men she wants to. Any man would be fucking lucky to lay eyes on Ivy.

“No,” he says a little too quickly.

“Hmm.” I size him up, unsure if I should still kick his ass. I break out into a bright smile. “I guess you can live tonight.” He tries to laugh it off, but I don’t share the humor with him.

“Where is she?” I ask her friend.

She waves to her left. “She’s probably over there, sleeping on the table. Needed some fresh air or something.”

Sleeping? Ivy is a night owl through and through, and I’ve never seen her drink more than she can handle. I walk in the direction she indicated. There’s a small outside area where a few people have congregated. My stomach twists as I spot her. She’s sitting at a table with her head propped in her hands. A guy is sitting beside her, his hand gliding up and down her leg, getting too fucking close to the hem of her dress for my liking. Something’s not right. This isn’t the bright, flirtatious Ivy I know. And she’d certainly never give a douchebag like this the time of day.

“Ivy.” The man jumps as I call out her name, his hand immediately pulling away as if he knows he’s in the wrong.

Not going to fucking happen, motherfucker. I grab the collar of his shirt, and he immediately raises his hands defensively. “I-I don’t w-want any trouble.”

“What did you do?” I growl, aware that the couple sitting closest to us are quick to head back inside. I can feel eyes on me, but I don’t fucking care. Never have and never will. I’ve never had any restraint, and I certainly don’t have a tether when it comes toheror anyone willing to fuck with her shining light.

“Nothing, she wants me, man,” he tries to say confidently.

“She doesn’t. Of that, I’m sure.”

“Look, I was told she was easy. You know how it is—” I grab the back of his head and slam it into the table. I hear the satisfying crunch of his nose. Then I throw him around like a ragdoll. He falls to the floor in a heap, and I kick him hard between his legs, ensuring he won’t be using that area anytimesoon. He’s choking on sobs and shock as blood pours out of his nose, but I’m far from done. I bend down and raise his arm, the one he was touching her with. I smile, the buzz of murderous intent coursing through my veins. An old friend, a lover, the part of me that has always gone unchecked and kept me alive.

His eyes go wide in horror as if knowing what I’m about to do. He tries to tug his hand back, but it’s too late, and I’m double his size. I snap his wrist, and he screams. I stand to my full height, watching him whimper and pale as he stares at his limp wrist before I kick him in the head. Hard. He immediately goes still and quiet.

I couldn’t care less if he’s dead or not.

Ivy mumbles something. It’s incoherent but enough to draw me back to her. I want to pummel this guy into nothing but a fleshy puddle, but my focus lies elsewhere. I crouch beside her, trying to see her face, but she’s barely able to hold her head up.

Fuck. She’s not okay.

I scoop her into my arms, holding her close to my chest, and her body goes limp as a noodle, and her eyes are a sliver open. People stare and make way for me as I stride back through the party. No one tries to stop me, but if they did, I’ll kick their fucking heads in as well. I hear her friend calling out, but I ignore her. Shit fucking friend she is. If I were a woman, I’d kick her head in as well.

When I walk out of the restaurant, I head straight for my car. I shift her weight so I can open the door and place her in the passenger seat. I buckle her seat belt, then wipe the smudged makeup under her eyes. This isn’t the Ivy I know. How much has she had to drink?

“Ivy, baby, how much did you have to drink?” I ask her, lightly tapping her cheek.

Her head rolls to the side, and she mumbles something incoherent, but then she holds up three, then four, then twofingers before her head rolls to the other side, and she passes out cold, lightly snoring.

“Fucking hell,” I curse. My fear is confirmed. She’s not drunk. She’s been drugged.

CHAPTER 16

Ivy

My head and body ache like I’ve had way too many drinks. My mouth is dry, and my eyes feel like they’re glued together. I eventually manage to crack my lids enough to see I’m in a dark room. Dread fills my stomach as I realize this isn’t my room or my bed.Where the fuck am I?I start breathing heavily as panic grips my throat like a vise. The last thing I remember is that guy Lester was trying to talk to me while I drank some water because my head was spinning.

“Water is next to you.” I jump at the sound of the voice, my heart rate picking up speed until my brain registers that the voice is familiar.

“Hawke?” I ask carefully. He shifts in the seat he’s sitting in beside the bed. I can just make out his bulky silhouette in the dark.

“I’m here, baby,” he says gently. Ordinarily, I’d reprimand him for using a nickname like that on me, but right now, I’m just relieved he’s here. “This might hurt a little.”

A side table light turns on, and my eyes immediately close, affronted at the brightness. He quickly dims it and then hands me a bottle of painkillers. I try my hardest to push myself up, but I just feel like shit. Everything aches. He holds out a glassof water. That’s when I realize I’m in his bed. I try to put pieces together, but it’s just blank. Why am I here? I don’t remember seeing him at the party.

The party…

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