Page 107 of Bratva Menace

“Nope. We’re in a crowded club. You can’t just go around cutting people.”

He was being irrationally unreasonable right now, and it wasn’t fair. I had anger to let out, and I wanted her to be the outlet.

I thrashed. I snarled. I acted downright fucking feral.

“You really weren’t kidding about being spontaneously violent, were you?” He laughed.

No, I bloody wasn’t. Once I was in the mood, I barely registered anything going on around me, the drive to hurt someone almost all-consuming. I barely noticed all the attention I was drawing. Barely noticed the looks of fear and horror on people’s faces as Lukyan carried me away. And I sure as shit didn’t notice the man at the back of the club with his phone to his ear, watching us.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

LYLA VOZNESENSKY

My back hit the brick wall behind the club, and Lukyan pinned me there with nothing but his body, pressing right up against me, every inch of him flush with mine.

I kicked and snarled, still filled with rage and a pounding jealousy I could feel right down to my bones.

“Calm down, baby,” he whispered softly. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of my throat in a soft kiss—his attempt to try to pacify me.

It didn’t work. I was too riled up.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. I’ll calm down if I want to calm down.” Irrational and childish, I know. You don’t have to tell me. But the green-eyed monster thumping in my veins made it impossible for me to see reason.

Gorgeous McBitch had a point. I shouldn’t have to work so hard to make him mine, and the fact that I was having to was not a good sign. He should know it as easily as I did, and yet, I felt as though I had to prove it to him. Show him how perfect we were for each other. I hated that feeling. That feeling of confusion and doubt.

I thrashed, trying to worm my way out of his grip. It didn’t work. Lukyan’s hands clamped around my wrists, and he slammed them up above my head.

“I like you like this.” He laughed softly, his gaze running over my face, shining with warmth.

At least he said he liked me.

“Like what?!” I barked.

“All neurotic and crazy and possessive.”

“I am not neurotic.”

“But crazy and possessive?”

“Well, duh,” I snapped. I might as well have that tattooed across my fucking forehead.

He shook his head, chuckling softly. “You have nothing to worry about,” he murmured reassuringly.

“So you don’t want Gorgeous McBitch?”

“No.” He chuckled again.

“You don’t want to fuck her?”

“No.”

“I’m the only one you want?”

He stared deeply into my eyes, that amused smile still curved on his lips. “Yes.”

I scowled. “You hesitated.”

“No, I didn’t.”