Page 27 of Velvet Thorns
Because I want her to think she got away.
Then I follow.
Chapter 7
PHOENIX
She’s standing tooclose to that clown behind the bar, and the way he’s looking at her like she isn’t my fucking endgame is really starting to test my patience.
I get it. Women eat that shit up. But does she really have to be that cliché?Jesus.
But there she is, smiling and laughing like she doesn’t have a care in the world, fingers drumming against the polished bar as if she’s not the most lethal thing in this entire room. She’s also forgotten to put her mask back on, which means she’s standing there as Shannen Clarke—exposed, vulnerable, and recognizable to anyone who might remember the broken little girl she used to be—something I’ll remedy for her soon enough.
I’ll take care of her. I always do.
But not before I let this little game play out, because the more she pretends she’s free, the sweeter it’ll be when I remind her she’s not.
Right now, she’s performing for me. She’s trying to test how far she can drag me toward the cliff before I jump.
Cute.
But she still doesn’t get it, does she?
Just because I recognize her game doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate it.
Does she really think I’ll just sit here like a good boy and watch her flirt and smile as if she’s not lighting me on fire, one fucking spark at a time?
Her arm slides across the bar, fingers brushing over the bartender’s wrist, pausing on that cheap ink like it’s nothing when it means everything.
I could storm across the room, wrap my hand around her throat—not to hurt, just to own—drag her out of here with her heels scraping across the floor, and press her against the nearest wall. I could make her feel the way I’ve waited, the way I’ve wanted, and how she’s just crossed a line.
No.
No, Phoenix.
You’ve waited ten years. You can survive another ten minutes.
The way she leans back on the barstool, legs crossed, and that slit in her dress riding up just enough to expose more of her thigh than I ever want anyone else to see—it’s deliberate. She’s taunting me. She’s pretending she doesn’t feel my gaze burning into her, but I know she does. She can feel every ounce of attention I’m giving her.
The masked idiot she’s been toying with finally tears himself away to serve Ashley Walter. Perfect grades, perfect teeth, captain of whatever-the-fuck. He never laid a finger on Shannen, but he stood back and laughed along with the rest of them.
Bad form, sure. But I’m not about to sit here and pretend I was any better.
I was worse. So much worse.
Shannen’s mask is still tucked in my back pocket, warm fromher skin and saturated in the faintest hint of her perfume. I pressed it against my face as I followed her down here, breathing her in like a fucking addict, dragging every last bit of her scent into my lungs until it coated me from the inside out. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted her everywhere.
She left it on the hotel room floor in a blind rage, too caught up in how pissed at me she was to notice. I should’ve crushed it under my boot and let her stay here barefaced and vulnerable. Instead, I walk up behind her and fit it back over her face. My fingers thread through her hair, curling into those blood-red strands I’ve memorized down to the root. It’s not the fire-engine color. No, hers is dark and rich, like something that stains.
I lower my mouth to her ear, close enough to feel the edge of her breath catch in her throat when my lips graze her skin. “Touch him again, and I’ll paint this fucking floor with his blood.”
She whirls on me, her amber eyes lit up. She looks like she wants to claw me apart with her bare hands, and fuck, I want nothing more than for her to try. I want her nails buried in my skin, her breath in my mouth, and her rage on my tongue. I want to drag every last ounce of fury out of her, rip it from her lungs, and fuck it out of her until she forgets what it even felt like to hate me.
“Don’t push me,” I grind out, stepping in close so she has to tilt her chin to keep holding my eyes. “And you’re welcome, by the way. You left that upstairs after your little tantrum. Figured you’d want it back.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, Phoenix? Seriously, have you tried therapy?”
“You’re my therapy, Shannen. You keep me from snapping. And honestly, I’d rather not spend tonight in a cell, so don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”
