Page 8 of Lost to the Woods

Saying things no one else ever would.

Making her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling.

“I mean, you joke around online, but—”

“Does this feel like a joke to you?” I interrupted.

She blinked. Just for a second. Just long enough for the weight of my words to sink in.

“No.”

The silence stretched between us, buzzing and heavy, charged with something I knew she didn’t fully understand. But I did. I had always understood.

She just stared at me like she could find any answers on the surface of my mask. The wind was whipping pink strands of her hair across her face. I wanted to push them back. I wanted to wrap my hand around the delicate column of her throat, to feel how her pulse races up for me. I wanted to press my lips right up against her ear and whisper,Let me wreck you.

“I…” She blinked rapidly, her cheeks still wet from the tears she’d forgotten about. “It’s just been a weird night.”

I nodded like I understood. Like I gave a damn about the emotional turmoil she was dealing with instead of the fact that I was two seconds away from pressing her up against the glass railing and seeing how many different ways I could make her gasp.

But before I could respond, the moment shattered.

“What the hell, man?” Her boyfriend had finally noticed she was gone, and he stomped onto the terrace, fists clenched like he thought he could protect her from me.

I turned to face him fully. Unhurried. Almost lazy.

His jaw was tight, eyes hazed, legs wobbling—he clearly had too much to drink.

Bunny shifted awkwardly. “Babe, I just—”

“I’ve been looking for you,” he snapped, eyes locked on me now. “And who the fuck is this?”

She tensed beside me. “You know who he is.”

That made his face darken. The petty little jealousy. How many arguments had they had over me in the last month alone?

I took a step forward, just to watch him shrink.

He tried to act tough, puffing his chest like some fragile little alpha-wannabe. “Back the fuck off, dude.”

I smirked to myself, and then I moved. Fast. Too fast for his wasted ass to react.

One second, he was barking like some weak little guard dog, and the next, he was dangling—half his body already tilted over the fucking edge of the terrace. The waist-high railing was the only thing stopping him from plummeting forty floors down.

My grip was like a vice—one hand fisted in his pirate costume shirt, the other clamped around his throat, pressing just enough to make his breath stutter. I felt the tendons flex under my palm, the wild pulse hammering against my fingertips.

Fear.

And I was enjoying it with no remorse, my fingers digging to reduce his airflow. Not enough to choke. Not yet. Just enough to remind him who had control.

His hands shot up, scrambling at me, desperate for leverage, but I barely felt it. He wasn’t strong enough. Not for me.

Bunny gasped behind me, but she didn’t stop me. She didn’t even move. I’m pretty sure she was in shock.

“I’m only going to warn you once,” I rasped, my voice dark and edged with amusement. “If she sheds one more tear because of you…”

I yanked him forward, just an inch—just enough to tip him further over the edge. His weight shifted. The glass barely brushed his lower back now.

He realized then.

---