Page 15 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
“Can’t say I blame you. She’s feisty and gorgeous. I wonder if Mateo would let me have her—”
“Stop talking.” Colt’s voice is pitched low, and his eyes are filled with barely contained rage when he glances at me.
Colt wears his emotions on his sleeves, and he’s no stranger to anger. Anger is a weakness I can’t afford, but Colt wields it like the sharpest of knives.
I’m not ready to be stabbed by him. Demi, maybe. Colt? The idea isn’t nearly as appealing with him in the picture.
My lips twitch. “Very well.” I turn up the volume and let music fill the space between us. A few minutes pass before Colt relaxes and settles into his seat, resting his head against the headrest. Every once in a while, I notice his gaze float to the woman in the backseat.
Yeah, she’s under his skin, which sucks for me because I can’t deny she’s intrigued me as well.
The situation can only get more complicated from here, seeing as Mateo needs her for a job. Colt and I won’t get a chance to have fun with her. Such a shame too; something tells me she’d be a wildcat in bed.
Chapter Five
Demi
Waking with a head injury sucks. The dim light overhead pierces through my vision and the lump on the back of my head throbs. The ridiculously handsome stranger who is also part of the Blood Mafia knocked me out, dragged me to wherever this tiny, dingy room is, and chained me to a metal folding chair.
Mother fucker couldn’t have put me in a cushioned chair?
My ass aches, and I shift slightly as I straighten my back, groaning when pain lances down my neck.
The room is almost empty. Aside from my pathetic excuse of a body and the chair, the only other thing in the room is a large mirror anchored into the wall in front of me. Sprinting through downtown and having something smashed against my head has done wonders for my appearance. My hair is falling out of the sloppy ponytail I have it in, random pieces sticking up higher than the others, and my T-shirt is rumpled. I still smell disgusting, and to top it all off, I have to pee.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
I realize I’m being cliché, but what else are you supposed to do when you’re chained to a chair in a creepy room?
“I have to pee. Hello?” My voice bounces off the walls, and the reverberation of it makes my head feel worse.
The metal restraints are tight, and when I push and pull against them, the links press into my skin hard enough to leave bruises. This week really can’t get any worse.
My ankles are also chained up and no amount of thrashing loosens them.
“I have to pee,” I say again, this time in a pathetic whimper.
Having to piss all over myself is another level of degrading, and I stubbornly clench my thighs together, grimacing against the pressure.
A static sounds before a deep voice fills the room. “Do you know where you are?”
I glance around, looking for the intercom. When I see a small white box under the mirror, I realize it’s not a regular mirror. Someone’s been watching me.
“Disney World? Is this one of those all-inclusive vacations where they torture you first then let you go see the princesses?” The sneer I’m wearing isn’t pretty.
The static noise sounds again before clicking off.
I scoff. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Do you understand you’re a prisoner?”
Jerking against the chains, I say, “Kind of hard to miss the restraints.”
“You’re not very smart, are you?”
Who the hell is this guy?
Since I literally have nothing better to do than taunt the mysterious man behind the mirror, I lean back in the chair like we’re having a normal conversation. “I’m actually very smart. I’m on track to get my graduate degree with a GPA above 4.0.”
