Page 22 of Coal Hearts

She stiffened. “If I hurt you so much, then let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean, ‘you can’t’?” She threw up her free arm. “Of course, you can. Just open your stupidly strong fingers and—”

“I paid a tidy sum for you.”

“Paid?” Her eyes cooled, glittering like chips of amber. “You gave my stupid ex money for something he had no right to sell. That transaction wasn’t legal, and you know it. Go chase Sam if you want your money back because I’m not giving you shit.”

The way her shoulders tightened with hate.

The way her skin flushed with anger and sweet, sweet rebellion.

She’d be stunning when she broke.

She’d be the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, gasping and kiss-bruised, begging at my feet.

An involuntary groan escaped me.

“Let go of me,” she commanded. “I won’t ask again.”

Breathing hard, I held her rage-violent stare for a moment, then shoved through the crowd, dragging her behind me again.

No one looked our way.

I was just another guy pulling a reluctant girl onto the dance floor. Her protests were probably marked as cute. As coy. Doing her best to play hard to get, all while I buckled beneath sick, despicable urges.

I walked faster.

Yanked harder.

Not to get my task over and done with, but because if I didn’t keep running from the urges in my blood, I’d break.

I’d fall.

I’d become the monster prowling inside me.

Ily continued to squirm while I clung with desperate fingers to the last tatters of my sanity. Every cell commanded I claim her. To march out of this club and keep her for myself. At least she’d be away from the Master Jeweler and his sad, shattered collection.

But then, Q would hunt me—just like he’d done to every bastard who thought they could traffic, rape, and own.

And I really didn’t want to die.

Despite my previous attempt.

“I said stop!” Ily yanked with all her pathetic strength, then darted in front of me, making me crash into her.

I clenched my teeth together, fighting, fighting, fucking fighting not to tear off her top and feast on her braless breasts beneath.

A sharp lance of jealousy cut through me.

What would the Jeweler do to her?

And why did that question make snarling possession raise its ugly head?

Slamming her palm on my chest, she hissed, “Stop dragging me around like a Neanderthal and let me the hell go!”

A dark-skinned girl with sparkly eyeshadow and sweat on her upper lip looked over at us. My arm moved on its own accord, lashing around Ily’s waist and jerking her far, far too close.