Page 50 of Live To Tell

“Didn’t I teach you anything, Grayson?” hisses a voice in my ear. “How long until you learn your lesson?”

My stomach leadens.

The dumb bastard Sawyer hasn’t found himself a better, less murderous attorney.

Chapter 17

GRAYSON

I clench my jaw hard, focusing on dampening down the immediate gut-wrenching fear from the man now pressing my face into the wall.

“You’re extremely lucky that I’m here in a professional capacity today,” he says, the sweetness of his breath another reminder of unpleasant pasts.

“Why?” I grit out.

“I can’t walk into the party covered in blood. That would give everybody the wrong impression.” Josef squeezes my neck tight, then pushes as he releases. I turn, pulling myself from the wall and side-stepping.

He stands opposite me, hands in his trouser pockets.

My muscles seize, acid filling my mouth. I last saw the slick-haired, hard-faced vamp when he skewered me, while watching with the same arrogant twist to his lips, emerald eyes retreating into the darkness that enveloped me. He can’t touch me here. Josef has a reputation to uphold and that includes detracting from his status as a hemia vamp, not reminding everybody.

At least I bloody hope so.

“Aren’t you worried about walking into this place?” I ask.

“Why? There’s no arrest warrant for me. The humans happily allowed me to leave that night.” He smiles that radiant, false one he uses on everyone he’s capable of influencing.

“With the help of illegal skills,” I retort, and tap the side of my head. He sneers. “And I’m not talking about the human threat to you.”

The one thing that’s holding me together right now—Dorian’s here. Violet. Rowan. No way will Josef walk out of here tonight unless it’s to a cell.

Josef slants his head. “Are you referring to the Blackwoods? I’ve no concerns about them.”

“Then you’re a fucking idiot,” I sneer back. Josef lashes out and my cheek stings as sharp nails scratch across the skin, the attack over in a blurred second.

I remain still, face neutral, not touching the welling blood as I stare into Josef’s blackening hemia eyes. He tuts and examines his nails. “Now look what you made me do. If I’ve blood on my clothes, I’ll be extremely displeased.”

“What was that? Didn’t you just say you can’t hurt me?” I say evenly and wipe my fingertips across my bloodied cheek.

“I said no such thing. Only that I can’t deal with you in the manner you deserve right now. Stalking witches for their blood. Disgusting.” His tone mocks me; Josef knows that isn’t what he saw.

“You won’t hurt me badly tonight?” I continue. “Whatever I do?”

His eyes narrow, giving his angular face a more sinister look, even without the hemia shift. “Why? What have you done?”

I drop my gaze to his silk tie, navy woven with silver, perfectly straight against the white shirt beneath his unbuttoned jacket. Then I look him dead in the eye and smear my bloodied fingers across his shirt. Even though I smirk at the streaks of blood across his chest, I’m as sick as when he held me to the wall. I’ve taken a risk—he’ll either maintain his professional facade or pummel me here and now.

I’ve never once retaliated against Josef, usually because he had his back-up heavies with him, and this might be a mild, childish hit back, but will be the first of many if he tries to harm me again. Because if wiping blood on Josef’s shirt is enough to silence the guy and freeze his responses, maybe hurting him badly will be easier than I’d expect.

“I’ll find you before the night ends, Grayson,” he growls in warning as I move by him, tensing in case he lashes out.

I slide my eyes towards him, our heads close. “That’s if Dorian doesn’t deal with you first.”

“Dorian Blackwood won’t hurt me tonight,” he sneers. “And if I don’t find you before the night ends, I’ll ensure we catch up very soon.”

“Best clean yourself up,” I say lightly and point at his shirt. “The bathrooms are further down the hallway, I believe.”

If a man who knows Josef by name didn’t cross our path at that moment, and force Josef to pull back on his disguise that he’s an upstanding member of society, his response to my words would’ve been different, I’m sure.

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