go of my arms suddenly and shifted his body, untangling our legs, enabling me to get some precious air into my lungs. I lay back, drained, trying to work out how I’d somehow gone from doing shots with my friend to lying under the person who hated me with a passion. I stared up at him, the expression on his gorgeous face full of loathing as he looked down at me.
My fear melted away as my traitorous body reacted to his proximity. Fuck. He was insanely sexy. All dark, brooding anger, his lethal body tensed and ready to strike at any moment, his muscular, tattooed arms either side of me, holding him effortlessly in place.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I whispered, finding it hard to catch my breath for a very different reason now.
He stared silently at me; then as if he’d become aware of my thoughts, he drew back, an expression of disgust on his face. “Don’t look at me like that again.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to fuck you.”
“Ugh, no thanks.” My voice held no conviction, and we both knew it.
He moved into a standing position in one smooth motion. “Get up.”
I sat up, and he indicated towards the huge bed to the side of me. “Sit there and do not move until I come back.” He strode from the room, slamming the door behind him, and I heard a loud click. Rushing to the door, I pulled at the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The bastard had locked me in. Who the fuck has locks on internal doors, anyway? People with something to hide, that’s who.
I pounded on the door uselessly, until my knuckles were burning, before I finally admitted defeat. Crawling over to the bed, I pulled myself onto it and collapsed back against the soft dark grey covers. The throbbing from my sore head grew more intense, and I closed my eyes, tears leaking from the corners.
That was the last thing I remembered.
“She vandalised my fucking car!”
“Bitch!”
“You keyed hers.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“Why did you bring her in here?”
“What happened to her face?”
The voices fell silent, and I slowly blinked my eyes open to find four pairs of eyes staring down at me. They were all here.
Brilliant.
I moved into a seated position, supporting my back against the wooden headboard behind me. The dull thud of music I’d heard earlier had gone, the house quiet. I licked my dry lips and spoke, directing my question at no one in particular. “What’s going on?”
“You’re hurt.” Cassius sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing me with concern. “What happened to your face?”
“Someone thought it would be a great idea to tackle me to the floor, and I scraped my face along the carpet.”
“You shouldn’t have kneed me in the balls, should you?” Caiden shot me one of his hostile glares, and I looked away, unable to find the strength to go up against him right now. I was tired, in pain, and my friend tequila was no longer my friend. The throbbing headache it had left me with just added to the pain in my face, and I groaned.
Cassius grasped my chin gently, his fingers skimming over the carpet burns on my nose and head, and I hissed.
“Sorry. I’ll get something to help.” He stood and walked out of the room, while the other three remained standing, their poses mirroring each other—crossed arms and tense bodies.
“I’m going to check the feeds.” At least, I think that was what Weston mumbled before he turned on his heel and left us, throwing me a sad smile, disappointment clear in his eyes.
Cassius returned with his arms full of supplies, setting them on the table next to the bed. “Let’s patch you up, babe.” He dipped a cotton ball in a bowl of cool water and brought it to my face, dabbing it on my skin.
“Ow. That stings.”
“Got to get it clean. It won’t hurt for long. Take your mind off your pain by imagining all the ways you could inflict pain on Cade.”
Despite myself, I laughed, glancing over at Caiden to see a tiny smile appear on his lips, which disappeared almost instantly. Our eyes met, and we both looked away quickly. Zayde stared between us, his face expressionless, before he turned and left the room, leaving me with Caiden and Cassius.
“We need to have a talk,” Cassius announced as he put the lid back on the ointment he’d smeared over my sore skin. He handed me two