Page 12 of Beautifully Damned
Ten.
Then thunder.
A door slams so hard behind me that I jump.
Roman barges out of the mansion like a storm on legs, pure wrath and darkness wrapped in black-on-black. His eyes are on us. Correction—on me.
I freeze, my hand still halfway to Matvey’s face. Matvey steps back immediately, his spine snapping straight, his lips pressed tight.
I stand slowly, hiding my damp sleeve behind me, heartbeat thudding in my throat. Roman’s jaw clenches as he approaches. What did I even do this time?!
"Leave us.” Roman orders. Matvey turns and walks away as if fleeing a fire, leaving me alone with the inferno.
The second Matvey's boots disappear out of sight, Roman walks towards me until there’s no space between us.
The heat rolling off him is unnatural. “Don’t. Touch. My. Men.” He hisses the words through his teeth.
His chest brushes mine, and I stop breathing. I try to back away, but my heel catches on the edge of the fountain, and I fall right into it.
Water splashes everywhere, a cold slap against my back. My elbow cracks against the marble floor beneath it. Pain zings up my spine. My hair soaks instantly, and the world spins for a second before my body registers it—
I just fell into a goddamn fountain.
Water streams into my eyes, making Roman seem a bit blurry. But the pain in my back, the embarrassment, the hot shame—all of it roils inside me. Rage explodes in my chest. My fingers curl into fists, and without thinking, I plant my feet on the slippery ledge, brace myself, and yank him toward me.
Hard.
I don’t expect it to work, he’s built like a damn tank. But something about the fountain’s edge, the angle, maybe even his own shock, makes him stumble and trip right on top of me.
Water erupts everywhere. His full weight crashes into me, driving the air from my lungs. His elbows slam beside my head, keeping just enough of his weight off me that I don’t black out. His face is inches from mine. His mouth is a line, nostrils flaring, water dripping from his chin onto my cheek. If looks could kill, I’d be buried ten feet under by now.
Why am I like this? Why am I so childish? Why does this godforsaken place pull immaturity out of me?
My back still aches, and my pride is in tatters, but I do the only thing that makes sense to my deranged brain. I startcrawling away from him. I wiggle and squirm like a worm under him, and the second my thigh scrapes down the length of his, he lets out a low, sharp hiss that shoots straight through me.
I’ve sealed my fate. He’s going to kill me.
He’s on his hands and knees now, because there’s no room for someone his size to sit or stand or even breathe properly in this stone pond from hell, and I see him coming.
Survival instincts, my brain screams.
So I splash him.
Isplashthe beast. Withwater.Rightin the face.
WHAT KIND OF SURVIVAL INSTINCTS DID GOD GIVE ME?
His expression twists into something unholy. My hands keep going. I don’t know who’s controlling them. Definitely not me.
"Don’t come near me!" I shriek, backing up until I nearly fall again.
He lunges. I splash. He growls. I splash harder. It turns into a full-blown water fight from hell, and we’re spinning in circles, soaking each other, stomping around the shallow edge of the fountain. Somewhere in the chaos, I catch a glimpse of Matvey and the other guard by the front door. Their jaws are on the floor.
I try to will my stupid hands to stop.
They don’t.
"Stop splashing me!" Roman thunders.
