Page 135 of Poison Vows

He simply has one of the men forcefully open the senator’s mouth, then Emmett stuffs the bloody hand in, making him almost swallow all his fingers, including the thumb.

When he’s satisfied by the gagged cries, he rises like a lithe, strong predator… and he heads straight for me.

His gaze on me is hard, cold, and sinister… and my feet are frozen solid.

From where I stand, the distance is quite big, but Emmett swallows it up in just four strides, and then he’s right in front of me.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Vaughn demands in a growl, but Emmett only looks at me with a seriously cold expression on his blood-smeared face.

“Hi, Angel,” he says intimately.

Hearing his voice, the tone low and soft only for me, my entire being reacts to him.

I gasp, as if a burst of violent oxygen has just been pumped into my shriveled lungs.

My whole body turns into a strange mix of mush and lightness as if I’m now a floating cloud.

Emmett’s sharp emerald eyes hold mine, and in them I see a rage so deep, my insides react fiercely.

What happened to him?

Where was he?

Why is there so much blood on him?

Is he okay?

I have so many questions that I can’t even utter. All I can do is look at him, wanting to touch him, slap him really, but the densely green forest of his eyes weakens me almost thoroughly.

“Hi,” I whisper, feeling the harsh absurdity of this interaction, but unable to help myself.

“Did you miss me?” he questions teasingly, his voice still intimately low.

I know he’s intentionally putting me on the spot right now, making sure I’m under his control.

I blink, noticing the rough stubble that highlights his sharp, chiseled jaw.

God, this man is so fine… and he just brutalized Senator Hughes’s body to a bloody mess.

“You’re here,” I croak, not knowing what else to say.

“I am,” he says, still in that low tone that makes something in me tingle aggressively.

“Where were you?”

“Had an errand to run.”

“Huh?”

Guns are still trained on him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He looks like he’s wounded, judging by the blood on him, but he’s so at ease and unbothered like he’s leisurely picking up wild daises in a prairie.

Frozen, I watch as he raises his hand, about to touch me, but then he stops, frowns as if he’s unhappy about the blood on his hands, and then extends his hand out again.

My heart leaps in my chest, thinking he’s about to be handed the chainsaw again, but instead, Ty appears with a silver bowl on a tray and stands to the side.

Emmett gives me a look that pins me to where I stand, then he turns and starts to wash his hands in the bowl, the blood turning the water red.

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