Page 17 of Delirium
“Now you and Kieran can bond over the fact that I stabbed you both.”
“What the fuck have you done?” he grunted, barely fighting against me. “What have you done, Ophelia?”
“I did what I had to.” I smiled up at him. “I showed you what it feels like to lose the woman you loved.”
“Ophelia!” Creed yelled out from behind me, but I wasn’t done with Storm. I wasn’t done with the tempest living and breathing in my chest. “Get away from him, Ophelia.”
I looked over my shoulder, my grip on the handle of the knife increasing, while Storm yelped in pain.
“Make me.” I grinned, my vision turning red.
“Ophelia, don’t do this,” Storm grunted. “We can still salvage this.”
Turning toward him, I tilted my head, leaving the knife in. My fingers dragged over his chest, smearing the blood dripping from the wound. My crimson hand lifted up to his lip, covering them in the color of his betrayal, while the whimpering and shouting around me ceased to exist.
“Stop whimpering, for fuck’s sake,” I murmured, while his entire body shook. “At least you aren’t dead.”
“Call a doctor!” someone shouted from behind me.
“No!” Storm shook his head. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Awww,” I cooed. “Are you still trying to save me from big, bad boys?”
“You’re angry.” He swallowed thickly, his throat working against my palm. “But I refuse to play this game where we harm each other, going around in fucking circles.”
“Oh, God.” I smiled. “How generous of you. I was a side piece all this time, Storm. I don’t need your protection. I don’t need anything from you.”
My forefinger pressed against my lower lip, sneaking in, while the coppery scent of blood struck my senses.
“It tastes like lies, Stormy.” I laughed. “It tastes just how I imagined it would. Like a weak man.”
The vein on his temple throbbed, his sharp jaw moving, his teeth grinding against each other.
“Take her,” he commanded, looking over at me. “Take her down.”
“But we were only starting to have fun,” I whispered, just as they pulled my arms behind me, dragging me away from him.
Two prospects rushed inside, along with Creed who couldn’t even look at me, fussing over their precious president. Fussing over the man who could get us all killed with his idiotic choices.
I wasn’t going to fight them, not right now, but I wasn’t going to go that easily either.
“Stormy,” I called out to him, waiting for those brilliant eyes to look up at me. “Tell your bitch that the next time I see her, her head will be mine.”
“You won’t touch her,” he grunted as they pulled him back from the window, leading him toward the bed. “If you do—”
“This is a promise, Storm.” I grinned. “The next time my eyes land on her filthy face, she won’t survive. So better get that dick wet as much as you can, because you won’t have her for much longer.”
“Stop it, Ophelia,” Indigo whisper-hissed next to me. “You’re just making this worse.”
“No, darling.” I chuckled and looked to the left where he stood. “It can’t get worse than this.”
It couldn’t get worse than stabbing the man you cared about, destroying the relationship you dreamed of.
“Take her away,” Storm instructed, his eyes angrily looking over me. “I’ll deal with her later.”
“Stormy, if you come closer, next time, that knife will be lodged in your gut, and not your shoulder.”
“Is that a threat?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on me.
