Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 99285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
He was staring at the man right in front of me.
Salvatore’s brows were pulled low, this strange expression on his face. When he glanced at me, I swore I could hear his scolding tone. No doubt he’d seen how close the man and I were, how I’d let him touch me.
And then I was glancing back at the dark-haired stranger, his attention still trained on me. I knew without a doubt this entire time he’d never taken his focus off me. His eyes seemed dark, darker than the walls and the ceiling, darker than the black clothes he wore or the onyx color of his hair.
Sasha pulled me away, and I watched as his full lips spread out over his straight, white teeth in a grin. I felt my eyes widen as I took in the sight of his canines, which looked a little too long. A little too sharp.
He lifted his hand and ran his thumb over his bottom lip before dragging his tongue over it. His eyes went hooded as if whatever he tasted was an aphrodisiac. On instinct I lifted my hand to my neck, a tender spot right under my fingers, right below my ear, where my pulse point was.
And the farther Sasha pulled me away, the bodies curling around us before sucking up the once-empty space, all I wanted to do was go back to him. And that’s why I turned and made myself leave.
Because whatever I was feeling was not safe. It was dangerous… just like the man I could still feel watching me.
The tension in the car was thick, uncomfortable. I glanced at Sasha, who sat in the front passenger seat. I didn’t miss how she kept looking at Salvatore, as if she too felt how thick and uncomfortable the air seemed to be since we’d left the club. I also didn’t miss how Salvatore kept squeezing and relaxing his hands on the steering wheel. Something was definitely up with him, and that was why things felt so weird right now.
He almost seemed… jealous, and all I could keep thinking about was him staring daggers at the nightclub mystery man. It was as if he knew him, like there was bad blood between them.
I cleared my throat and shifted on the seat. “I could have taken an Uber. It’s out of your way to take me home, and I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
Sasha looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. “Don’t be crazy. Like I’m gonna let you go home with a stranger when you’re just as drunk as I am.”
I didn’t point out that we were in Salvatore’s car, and Sasha had been the one to offer they’d take me home without even checking with him first.
“Well, thank you. I do appreciate it.”
I focused out the back passenger window again. I was pretty buzzed but not wasted enough that I didn’t know what was going on or couldn’t keep myself safe. I could have gotten myself home just fine, especially if I’d known Salvatore would be annoyed the entire car ride.
I kept my mouth shut the rest of the ride home, staring out the back passenger side window, the city fading away as the more residential area came into view.
We pulled into the driveway of my house, and I spoke with Sasha for a few moments before thanking Salvatore for the ride. I slipped out of the car and went inside, not bothering to turn the lights on as I made my way to my bedroom. I wanted a shower to wash off the sweat and the sticky feeling that covered my skin from the oppressive heat from dancing.
But the entire time, there was one main thing that wouldn't leave my thoughts. Him. The man who’d touched me, who’d made me feel things I’d never felt before.
Once in the bedroom, I undressed, letting my outfit fall to the floor, and padded barefoot into the bathroom. I turned the light on, the glow bright at first, causing me to squint from the harsh pounding behind my eyes.
Once my vision adjusted and the pain faded marginally, I turned toward the mirror above the sink and stared at my reflection. I looked like a stranger, or maybe it was the fact that I’d felt things tonight that still had a tight hold on me.
My mascara was slightly smeared under my eyes, my hair was in disarray around my head and along my shoulders, and my face was still flushed.
I grabbed the locks, pulled them over one shoulder, and started to finger comb the strands, but I narrowed my eyes when something on the side of my neck caught my attention.
I leaned forward and squinted, my vision blurry from the alcohol and the headache blooming into a migraine. But I could see the mark clear enough, and as I lifted my fingers and touched right below my ear, I felt this strange heat move through me.