Page 106 of His Fury

“Dickhead?” Rye looked up the stairs at me, and I lost a little bit of courage as I saw his irritation.

But fuck him.

Fuckhim.

“Why do you hate me?” I demanded as I walked slowly down the stairs. “I’ve done nothing?—”

“You’ve done plenty.”

We both looked surprised at his sharp outburst. But Rye wasn’t the kind of man who backed down once he was committed. On any other day, I would have admired that. Today, when his frustration was aimed at me, I wished I hadn’t come down the stairs with a fire in my belly.

“I—”

“You have messed with his head the moment you batted those eyelashes at him.” Rye’s hand gripped the banister. “You don’tbelonghere, Isla. You aren’t part of this world. You’re…confetti.”

My mouth dropped. “Confetti?”

“Shiny, pretty to look at, and, at best, a momentary distraction.”

Bastard.

“I amnotconfetti!” I marched down the remaining steps until I was at eye level with him. He was tall, stupidly tall like Zayn, and it made me want to poke him in the eye for spite. “You know what you sound like? A jealous littlegirl.”

“Fuck off, Wells.” Rye turned and headed for the kitchen, but to hell with that; I followed, full of righteous anger.

He called meconfetti.

“I’m not confetti. I’m, I’m…” What? Permanent? Committed? In love? “Glitter!”

Not my best moment.

Rye gaped at me and burst out laughing. It wasn’t the happy joyous kind, and it only made my cheeks burn hotter.

“Glitter?” He made a show of wiping his eyes. “You’reglitter? You’re right, youareglitter.” He swept his eyes over me with contempt. “Cheap, easy to come by”—he leaned into me—“and sticks tofucking everything.”

I slapped him. I wasn’t proud of myself. I want to say it didn’t make me feel better, but I wasn’t a liar.

Rye didn’t move.

I don’t think I breathed.

He leaned back, his look once more assessing. He sucked his teeth. “Not bad,” he said, taking a drink of his coffee. “Needs more power. A punch would have been better, possibly more impact, though you have little muscle mass, so probably not.” He scanned me from top to bottom. “You work out at all?”

“What?” I gave my head a shake as if to clear it. “What’s happening?” I’d expected anger, the explosive kind, maybe a shove, but…assessment?

Rye finished his coffee. “I need to know how far I can push before you break, Barnie.” His tone was so matter-of-fact. The earlier animosity he had shown me had vanished. “Name-calling and bitch slaps aren’t enough. Do you want to punch me?”

“Every time you talk.”

He grinned. “That’s better.” He walked past me, his hand clasping my shoulder. “Zayn claimed you, Barnie. You need to be ready to fight for him as he is for you.”

“Fight?”

He looked at me over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you.”

“Why do you keep calling me Barnie?” I yelled after him, hating how frustrated I sounded.

He didn’t answer and left me standing in the kitchen, thoroughly confused about what had just happened. I heard him call out a goodbye, leaving behind the echo of what I now knew was coming.

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