Page 238 of Fatality

She doesn't say a word or even look around. It's like I'm not even here, and it pisses me off.

I hate being ignored, especially by her.

Fucking stubborn, infuriating little—

I take a deep breath because if I explode, I'll actually lift her, force her legs to wrap around my head, and eat her out until she can't even stand.

Just to make sure she remembers I'm here and that ignoring me just makes me more furious and hard.

Staying still for three hours is torture for me.

I've been stepping out back to call my gang and deal with business while she's been sitting on her ass, drawing on people's skin.

I've paced around the entire studio. The clients and her friends keep looking at me like I'm the crazy one.

I'm not.

She is.

By not fucking looking at me, by not even acknowledging my presence.

She chose tattooing this guy over me. Like I'm some random fucker hanging around when I fucked her so good she passed out on me.

Since the moment we met, we've been stuck in this fucked-up nemesis bullshit. Her time was mine, her attention was mine, her fists trying to cave my face in were mine.

I carried her from the Upper Layers to the Lower like some fucking hero—which I absolutely am not—and now she's acting like I'm just another client waiting in line?

Unacceptable.

She's got her priorities completely fucked.

I'm not going to just let her make that mistake while she's ignoring me.

I tried, but I can't. Simple as that.

My fingers drum against the counter, my eyes fixed on the back of her head.

Completely in her element.

Enough.

I stalk toward her from the reception, she's still not looking at me.

“Riven.” I growl.

Nothing.

Just nothing.

Not even a side glance.

I suddenly grab her upper arm and yank her to her feet.

“What the fuck?!” she shouts, startled.

“So God didn't fucking make you mute.” I lean in, staring into her furious, surprised eyes. “We need to talk. And I'm done waiting.”

I lean to the side, looking over her head. My eyes meet the client she was tattooing.