Page 50 of Kael

I pulled the bottle out. Blood sprayed across my chest, warm and thick. I watched it drip down my shirt, watched his face twist in pain, watched Kael's expression shift from surprise to fury.

The man was still moving.

I hit him again. And again.

The glass shattered in my hand, but I didn't stop. I kept swinging, using the broken stem, my palm slick with blood—his, mine, I couldn't tell anymore. The sound was wet.

His body went limp.

I stepped back, chest heaving, hands shaking. Blood dripped from my fingers onto the stained carpet. This was my second kill.

Kael was watching me.

I looked at the man, at the mess I'd made, at the blood on my hands.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest. It came out wrong.

"He was going to hurt you," I said.

Kael crossed the room in three strides. His hand was on my chin, tilting my face up. His eyes were dark, hungry, burning into mine.

"You killed for me?"

I laughed again. I couldn't stop it.

"Yes. Because you would for me, and I think hurting people is a new high," I said.

He stared at me for a second, then chuckled. He pulled me against his chest, his hand fisted in my blood-soaked shirt, and kissed my forehead.

"That's my Bunny."

I closed my eyes and breathed him in. The blood was drying on my skin, the man was dead at my feet, and I didn't feel guilty.

I felt alive.

Chapter 29

Bria

I was in the type of restaurant that made me feel like I had to whisper even when I was laughing—one that cost more than I used to spend on a whole week of getting high. Maya was paying, though. This was her new life. I guess mine, too, now, since I was wearing an outfit and shoes that cost high five figures and had Kael's black card in my new Birkin. Maya had invited me to dinner with some of the girls from high school. She said she didn’t like any of these bitches, but a few had dealings with her husband's family, so she had to play nice.

I should’ve said no when she asked. I knew that before I stepped out of the house, but Kael had encouraged me to go and call him if I needed him.

Halfway through the main course, Tiffany—wearing the same smug little smile she’d had since tenth grade—leaned forward with her wine glass and looked me up and down.

“Look at you,” she said, her voice sticky-sweet. “Loro Piana. Brunello Cucinelli. Everybody ain’t able… but I guess if you suck enough dick, the universe provides.”

The table went quiet.

Maya’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.

Tiffany kept going. “I mean, after everything with Darius… the beatings, the drugs, the whole mess. It’s just nice to see you cleaned up. Even if we all know how you paid for it.”

Everybody but Maya laughed.

Something hot and black slid down my spine.

Maya set her glass down hard. “Watch your fucking mouth, Tiffany. You don’t know shit about her life. And don’t act like you ain't sucked a dick or two. You just did it for free, stupid.”