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And I hated the dark memories of the day my innocence had died a brutal, agonizing death.
Gritting my teeth, I directed my hatred outward, choosing to blame the wretched beggar for his own misfortune and for neglecting his child.
And most of all, I hated George Crawford, the corrupt piece of shit who dared to touch innocent Evelyn with his dirty hands. The bastard held her like he was protecting her, when he was the reason that her life had been endangered. His ties to Los Zetas had gotten her kidnapped and beaten. She’d be dead if it weren’t for me.
I’d been the one to save her. Not him.
And yet, she leaned into him for support. She brushed her lips over his in a tender kiss. Her dainty hand clasped his as though he was her lifeline.
Contempt and jealousy curled my lips in a sneer. I took a single step toward them before I could stop myself, wanting nothing more than to rip him away from her and end his miserable life.
My movement caught her attention, and her pale green eyes flashed to mine. Her clear, peridot gaze punched me, knocking the air from my lungs. I went utterly still, as though I’d spook the beautiful creature if I made a sudden move.
I barely breathed as she stared at me, our gazes locked. She was several meters away from me, a flower stall separating us. But her stunning eyes hooked me like a lure, commanding my full attention.
Hunger gnawed at my gut, a keen desire I’d never experienced before. I wanted this woman. I wanted her innocence, her beauty, her quiet strength. Everything about her fascinated me, and I craved more of her attention. I couldn’t have broken from her gaze even if I’d wanted to.
Chapter 7
Evelyn
Shockingly blue eyes met mine from across the market, captivating my attention. They were so pale that they were almost silver, practically glowing like a wolf’s keen gaze. The man’s stare punched my chest like an arrow, painfully intense. His entire demeanor radiated power and masculine hunger that should’ve scared me…but the thrill that raced through my body made my belly flip with trepidation that wasn’t entirely fearful.
His face might’ve been carved by a master sculptor, hard planes softened by full, sensual lips. Stubble darkened his square jaw, giving him a rugged appeal that captivated me. He was tall and broad—even bigger than George.
George.
Guilt lanced my heart, and I quickly tore my eyes from the beautiful stranger.
I’d been ogling a man right in front of my fiancé.
Cautiously, I peeked up at George, and I released a relieved breath when I found his attention fixed on the food truck menu. The man I loved hadn’t caught me staring at someone else.
I forced a smile to hide the worst of the guilt that still made my heart twinge with every beat. I’d never looked at another man before.
Admittedly, I’d never seen a man as gorgeous as the dark stranger with the shining wolf’s eyes. Any woman would’ve been captivated. I was only human.
But I loved George, and I’d never betray him, not even in thought.
Determined to distract myself, I fished my phone out of my purse and immediately opened the camera app.
George’s disapproving sigh ghosted over my neck, but he didn’t rebuke me.
I released another relieved breath and cast my gaze around the market, hunting for a good shot. Luckily, the alluring stranger had disappeared into the bustling crowd.
For a moment, I wished I could photograph him, to capture those stunning eyes. I wondered what finer details I would be able to see if I were closer to him. Did he have laugh lines around his eyes and mouth? Did his olive skin glow with a dewy light under the sun? Did strands of silver shine in his glossy black curls, showing signs of maturity?
The man would be stunning at any age, his features classically handsome and boldly masculine, despite the softness of his mouth. His lips were full, sensual. But there was nothing remotely soft about his powerful aura.
Would I be able to capture that power through the lens of my camera? Or would it elude me, impossible to fully convey in a still image?
I shoved the thoughts away, struggling to dispel the aching guilt that constricted my chest. Instead of searching for the alluring man, I focused my attention on the flower stall. The blooms were stunning, flashing every color of the rainbow in fragrant bouquets.
I lifted my phone and framed a shot, only somewhat satisfied. The composition was good, but I could capture more vibrant images with my Nikon camera.
George hadn’t allowed me to bring it out with me. My photography hobby was a distraction, and my ordeal with the cartel had proven that I couldn’t afford to indulge in my art. This moment with my phone would have to be enough to satisfy my artistic urges.
“Come on, Evie. That’s enough.” George plucked the phone from my hand before I could frame a second picture. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat.”
