Page 132 of They Are Mine

I arch a brow.

Orion moves fast, stepping between us, pulling me behind him. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops and file a restraining order,” he snaps.

God.

That voice.

So firm. So final.

I shiver, but not from fear.

Tammy sniffles like a pathetic child and staggers to her feet. “This isn’t over, Ry.”

I go still.

Oh.

Oh.

She calls him Ry?

Like she still has that right?

My fingers twitch at my side.

She turns to me, eyes burning, and spits venom. “You,” she hisses. “Stay out of my house.”

I smile. Syrupy sweet and then I place my hand at Orion’s waist, tilting my head just slightly as I look up at him. “Who the fuck is she?” I ask.

I want her to hear it. I want her to burn in it.

Orion doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even look at her. His voice is sharp. Cold. Brutal. “No one. A mistake.”

I purr, pressing closer, tracing my fingers just under the hem of his shirt.

That’s right, love. You’re mine.

And she? She never existed.

Later, I can’t sleep.

Even after Orion and Noah turned me boneless.

Even after three orgasms, a hot shower, and a sleepy, possessive cuddle pile.

There’s no way I can approach Elliot with that crazy bitch Tammy causing drama.

Elliot wouldn’t put up with drama. He’s mature. Sophisticated.

He probably meditates before bed and drinks herbal tea. He wouldn’t be caught dead shouting in a parking lot like some low-budget soap opera extra.

And I don’t blame him. I won’t put up with it either.

So…

I slip out of bed, toss on black jeans and a t-shirt, because nighttime research has a dress code. Blend in. Keep it low-key. Stay practical.

But I do swipe on some pink lipstick, because I have standards.

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