Page 4 of Vow of Revenge
“Tell, Mr. De Courcy, he has another guest waiting!” A monster of frustration lurked in the pit of my stomach. Some random man had my sister, and I couldn’t get to her.
One of the men stepped closer, his features hardened, his brow creased. “Go away before I escort you off the premises.” His crooked teeth poked out from under thin lips.
“Fuck you, and fuck, Mr. De Courcy!” I snarled, fisting my hands in frustration. I was just about to throw in the old ‘do you know who I am card’, which I reluctantly resorted to in sticky situations, but for some unknown reason the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
“Is there a problem, Daniel?” A voice to our left snapped my focused fury away from the pompous face of the security man.
“Eh, Mr. De Courcy. This woman says she’s with your party.”
I couldn’t make out the features belonging to the intrusive husky voice that was mixed with a layer of emotionlessness and laced with a shiver of wickedness. The pillar’s long shadow masked his observation, but I knew this was not the same man who took Syrah.
“My friend was brought up here a few seconds ago.” I squinted, searching for a face.
As if reading my mind, he stepped forward, into the path of bright strobing lights. Instantly ice blue eyes found mine, framed by thick black lashes that verged on pretty but chilled like a villain. They dazzled with seduction, set amidst high chiselled cheek bones and a dusting of scruff shading his angular jaw. A set of brows lifted, just a little, and he stood quietly, holding my gaze in his own assessment. In that moment, I wondered what he was thinking because his lingering sweep fascinated me like nothing I’d ever experienced.
Something about the handsome stranger screamed bad news – every cell in my body was telling me to back away but a hint of intrigue was holding me under a wayward spell. The vibrating quiver in my muscles grounded me before him, pleasurably chilling my skin, submitting to his dominating presence.
I liked it.
I hated it.
Unintentionally licking my lips, my gaze drifted to his perfectly pouted lips, those same lips that barely quirked as he noted my quick intake of air.
His voice sliced through the air and cut into my foolish daze. “She’s not with me.” He finally added with haunting glacier eyes focused on my face. Raising his whiskey, he nodded to the security men like he wanted them to escort me off the premises. A glint of light fracturing over metal caught my eye when his arm lowered. Rolled up sleeves to his elbows, showed off woven black leather bands, decorating his wrists. One of the many thick silver rings on his fingers tapped the glass in his palm. His loosely fitted obsidian shirt hung on a lean torso, teasing buttons left opened casually, yet the tails tucked neatly into dark denim jeans.
“Thought as much, Mr. De Courcy.”
The indifference in his light shrug ruptured the stifling air surrounding us. The loud pulsing bass echoed from multiple speakers, pounding through my bones but it was his heartless whisper that wrapped my desire and burst it open before my eyes.
Run.
Uncertainty, confusion, feelings of rejection charged my anger, and I had no clue why. I wobbled on the top step. My breathing had quickened to catch up with my slamming heartbeat. In two steps, I staggered to the handrail, clutching it before I toppled.
“Oh, for fuck sake, she’s just another drunk, chancing her luck. Get her out of here,” he growled, running his hand through a mass of thick strands, locking me with a sinister glare that scorched my pride.
“Excuse me…? For your information, I am not drunk. My sister came up here with some random guy. I need to see her, now.” My temper was mounting, spark after spark.
“You’re a liar, as well as a drunk.” His tone dropped to accusing, bordering on menacing. In two steps he towered over me, staring down with a deep crease lining his brow. “Alcohol is oozing from your pores.”
He was too close. A flash of adrenaline rushed around my chest making me dizzy. “Don’t tell me what my pores are doing. I only had two shots of Tequila. That’s all. We just got here,” I snapped back, gripping the cool steel for support.
“Two shot wonder. You can barely stand unaided.” His gruff rasp sharpened my claws.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m wearing stiletto’s and standing at the top of a staircase, you dickhead!”
Vivid blue eyes scanned my chest, resting at the snug black leather wrapping my calves. A surge of warmth chased my pounding heartbeat, giving way to a flurry of daring prickles scattering my scalp. They stunned the hell out of me. I didn’t know this guy, but my temper had simmered to a smouldering lust. It was the smugness tugging his lips and the dangerous stare that made me want to punch him square on the nose, but the impulse to feel his hands where his gaze had settled was mindless. I always knew my soul was tarnished, but the desire coursing through my veins was a deceitful joke.
“Freya, there you are!” Syrah appeared alongside us. “Come on, why are you waiting here. I want you to meet, Brett.” She smiled at the sinful stranger, completely unaware of the smouldering atmosphere or the barrage of abuse I just endured.
“And you are?” He turned to face Syrah as she reached out for my hand.
“Syrah. I came up here with, Brett De Courcy. This is, Freya.”
His eyes flicked back to me, narrow and cold. “Well then, Freya, in that case, you may as well join us.”
“I would rather slap myself in the face than join you,” I snarled.
“Freya?” Syrah gasped. “What’s got into you?”
