Page 29 of Her Soul to Own

She’s glaring at me like she wants to set me on fire with her eyes. Her chest is heaving, her lips parted, her breath coming hard and fast. Her cheeks are flushed a deep, furious pink, high with color and glistening with a light sheen of sweat that catches the dashboard light just right. It trails along the curve of her neck and down to the swell of her breasts, now barely contained beneath the fabric of her dress. She’s still dressed but disheveled, and the dress is clinging in all the wrong places in a way that makes it impossible not to look.

Her skin glows, dewy from heat and rage, her collarbone sharp and tense like she’s holding everything back by a thread. And even like this, furious, disheveled, and defiant,fuck me,she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She’s like a storm bottled in desire and sweat. And every part of me wants to touch the lightning.

“You’re going home,” I say. My voice is low, sharp, and controlled only by a thread of restraint. “And if I see you out with him again, Lyra, Iwillmake you regret it.”

The driver’s trying to disappear into the driver’s seat.

I snap at him. “Take her back. Now. Don’t stop. Don’t talk. Don’t listen.”

He nods like he’s been drafted into war.

I slam the door and watch the car peel away, her curses still echoing behind the tinted glass.

Then, I turn.

Jake’s still in his car. I can see the panic now. He’s realized this isn’t just some angry boyfriend moment. This is deeper. Darker. Dangerous.

I start walking. One step at a time.

Because I’ve got business to handle. And Jake has about thirty seconds left before he finds out what happens when you make a monster jealous.

I don’t walk back to Jake’s car. I stalk. The difference is intent. I want the bastard to know never to come near me or Lyra ever again, and from the way he’s already squirming, it’s not gonna be hard.

My boots hit the pavement like punctuation marks, like every step is the end of a sentence that’s been building since the moment Lyra smiled over her shoulder like she wasn’t mine to protect, or punish.

Jake’s still behind the wheel, his fingers drumming the steering wheel like he’s waiting for the credits to roll. Poor bastard probably thinks the worst is over and that the show’s ended.

I knock on the window once. He flinches hard enough to rattle his teeth. I take that as a “come in,” so I pop the door and slide into the passenger seat with a slow smile that could slice granite.

His eyes dart to the glove box, which is a mistake.

“Don’t,” I say, calm as a butcher sharpening a knife.

He freezes. Smart boy. Finally.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” I interrupt. “You didn’t mean to get caught. That’s different.”

I let him squirm in the quiet. Then, I reach into my coat.

No, not for a gun. Not yet. Instead, I pull out my mini-iPad and toss it onto his lap.

Jake blinks in the glow of the screen. “What is this?”

“Your sins. Condensed,” I say. “Page two’s the good stuff. DUI from college. That little misunderstanding with your coach’s daughter—remind me, was she seventeen or did she just look it? And let’s not forget the photos from last year’s ‘charity’ yacht party.”

His face goes white. Paler than his pressed collar.

I lean in, lowering my voice. “You think you’re smooth. Harmless. But I make it my business to know exactly what kind of trash tries to crawl into Lyra’s bed.”

Jake stammers, “She invited me. She called me.”

“Of course she did,” I say, smiling with no warmth. “She’s fire in a bottle, and you’re just dumb enough to think you can handle a sip.”

His mouth opens and closes. He’s breathing through his mouth now, like a fish flung out of water. I tap the iPad once.

---