Page 312 of Fatality

My eyes widen.

I instinctively look down at the little Charger charm he made for me, clipped to the belt loop of my skirt—I always, since, clipped it to my waistband when I go out.

I genuinely don’t know why, it just makes me feel good.

I think.

“You monster.” I accuse.

“Yeah.” He smirks. “But I'm your monster, and you're stuck with me, troublemaker, so...” He raises a finger toward the bartender. “Deal the fuck with it.”

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.

“The same she had.”

The bartender nods and lines up another pair of Devil's Shots.

I scrunch up my face in anticipation.

I want him to grimace, something like we did with girls.

Evren looks down at me, one hand settling possessively on my hip, then throws both shots back.

He doesn't even flinch.

I'm actually disappointed, he is clearly not human.

“What?” he barks. “I got something up my ass for you to stare at me like I just murdered someone?”

He leans closer until our lips are barely a hair apart.

“Because I did.” He pulls back with a wink.

He seems completely fine. The shots don't seem to affect him at all.

“You're not drunk?” I tilt my head, studying his face.

“No,” he says flatly. “I thought your rich-people shit would actually—”

He cuts himself off, his eyes suddenly glow and his grip on my hip tightens.

“Well... forget what I just said.”

Fuck.

Why do I suddenly want him so badly?

The shots. It's the fucking shots.

Do they have a sort of aphrodisiac inside?

He laces his fingers through mine and his other hand leaves my hip to cup my chin.

“Either we fuck right here, right now,” His voice drops to a rough murmur as he rolls his hips against mine.

I feel his hard undeniable cock through our clothes, and a shiver races down my spine.

“Or we go dance but I can’t promise I will be a gentleman.”