Page 11 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
Kevin chuckles.
My blood boils.
“You wouldn’t hurt me,” he says with arrogant condescension.
“Try me,” I say, placing my hand against his chest to push him out of my way. He stumbles back a step because he wasn’t expecting to be shoved.
“You’re a real piece of work, Demi. Magenta was right, humans are so dramatic.”
Magenta? Seriously? He cheated on me with a bitch named Magenta?
I never claimed to have any semblance of control when it comes to my anger. Dropping my purse, I turn around and launch myself at him, throwing a fist and clocking him on the jaw. He growls, but my body hits him a second later, and we crash to the ground. The concrete scrapes my knees, but I ignore the bite of pain. I scratch and hit Kevin a few more times before he gets over his shock and bucks me off of him.
I land in a pile on the ground with anumphand shake my hair out of my face. “Leave.”
“Fucking psycho.” Kevin shoots me a searing look.
My attitude is on fire today, and when I raise my chin to stare into his glowing eyes, he lets out a low, warning growl.
“Now,” I say.
Screw the wolf.
He doesn’t scare me.
He kicks the same trash can I assaulted last night, but this time it flies across the street, rattling and rolling to a stop against tires with black rims. Forgetting all about my ex-boyfriend, I stare at the dark SUV. The ominous sign of my impending doom.
I shove off the ground with shaking hands. When I glance back to Kevin, I see him storming away. A man steps to the side when he passes, a knowing smile playing on his lips when he looks at me.
Why are all the men I’m seeing lately hot? It’s really not fair to be surrounded by so much sexy right now. I am not in the right mindset to flirt or make moves when I’m being stalked by the mafia.
As he comes closer, I notice a few tattoos wrapping around his arm. The stranger is wearing gray sweatpants and a dark green shirt which does nothing to hide his cut physique.
A car engine starts, reminding me of the SUV. I look between the threatening vehicle and the man. I can’t see through the windows, but I feel someone watching me. The weight of their eyes presses on me and makes my stomach flutter.
“Everything all right?”
I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pick up my bag from the ground. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
The man’s eyes drop to my knees. “You’re bleeding.” His brow furrows. “You’re hurt.”
It’s a little odd he seems so bothered by this fact, but maybe he’s a really nice guy.
“I’ll be fine.”
I try not to flinch when he steps closer, but I can’t help it. Between Kevin and the fight last night, my nerves are fried. His eyes narrow, and he runs his palm along his five-o’clock shadow.
It’s so faint I almost miss it, but on the back of his hand is a tattooed Blood Mafia emblem. I choke on my spit. “Oh shit.”
“We’re doing this the hard way then?” he asks with hints of humor lightening his words.
This is funny to him? What exactly is he doing here, and why does he have a determined glint in those shockingly dark blue eyes?
This is no time for questions, Demi. RUN.
I kick my foot. My heel connects with his stomach—which is hard as a rock and not at all surprising—and he grunts. I throw my palm toward his nose, but he catches my wrist and tugs me closer.
The SUV engine starts, and a stone drops in the pit of my stomach.
