Page 15 of Betrothed in Fury
We’re standing on the mezzanine level, overlooking the lower part of the warehouse, where Logan’s still chatting with his new friend—my new enemy—his arm around her waist. It’s like he wants to show me I don’t own him. That he’s his own man and can fuck whoever he wants. Sooner or later, he’ll come to accept that’s not the case, and if he pushes his luck, he’s gonna learn it tonight.
The fight starts off with some guys I don’t know, but according to Jaime, Logan’s brother is playing tonight, which is probably why Logan came to this rathole. I’m pretty much dead to this shit, maybe because being a Lorde, we’ve seen so much violence in our lives that this seems like child’s play. Although, I must admit, as fists exchange, a calm descends over me. I watch the fight, trying not to be a stalker and give my fiancé the space he needs to make up his mind, but he’s really pushing his luck as he moves closer to the woman, whispering in her ear. Something within me flares, and I find myself growling like an animal.
Logan couldn’t have heard me, but he glances up, locking gazes as he continues whispering to her. And when she laughs, I can’t keep still.
The insolence.
The disrespect.
Rage funnels through my veins.
As I hurry down to the first floor, I fight to keep my composure. Old Terror taught me there’s no use flying off the handle. That it’s much better to manage these impulses, be more measured in my actions. I remind myself that up until a few daysago, Logan didn’t even know he was supposed to marry me. He’s still adjusting to the news that he’s not the free man he believed himself to be, who can run around fucking all the women he wants. But as much sympathy as I may have for him, the Lorde in me won’t be disrespected.
Keep your cool. Don’t lose it. Deep breaths, the way you learned in therapy.
Relief courses through me when I spot him, still chatting up the girl. Not because I want to see this, but because he didn’t sneak off and wind up balls-deep inside her. En route to him, I push some guys out of my way. One’s taller than me and looks about to start something until he recognizes my face. Smart move.
When I reach Logan, I push up beside him and the enemy, catching their attention. I don’t say anything—I doubt I need to. Just stare him down, the heat burning in my cheeks as he issues a cocky smile, clearly knowing what he was doing to me. The bastard.
“Ah, Killian. Surprised to see you here.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I say through my teeth.
The woman glances between us uncomfortably, and I turn to her. “You should join your friends.” It’s a threat, and judging by her wide eyes, she knows it.
“Be nice,” Logan warns.
I snarl. “Pleasego join your friends.”
Logan’s expression twists up, as though he’s surprised by that, but I don’t have an issue with this woman. I have an issue with his behavior.
“She doesn’t have to go anywhere—” Logan insists.
“It’s fine,” she tells him. “Clearly, you have important things to discuss, but you have my Insta. Hit me up.”
“He won’t,” I blurt out.
It’s times like these when I wish I had more self-control. But I must havesomesince I haven’t attacked her yet. It’s only when she walks away that I realize I’m holding my breath, my fists clenched like I was trying to keep from losing it. It doesn’t ease up as I glare at Logan, who steps to me.
No one steps to me.
“I was working up something there,” he snaps.
“You’re done with that. Now give me your phone.”
“What?” Judging by his expression, you’d’ve thought I backhanded him.
“You heard me. Your phone. I want to block her off your Instagram account.”
He chuckles, like I said something funny, but then sobers. “Wait, are you being serious?”
I scowl, putting my hand out.
“You’re gonna have to take it from me.”
“I’ll take whatever I want from you,” I assure him, earning a nasty look.
“Then take it because you don’t have a right to my phone or who I socialize with.”
