Page 45 of Kill Feed

A woman stands behind the counter at the far end with thin, sharp eyeliner and lipstick the color of dried blood. She sees me and gives a tired nod, wrist twisting as she pours neon liquid and vodka into two sticky glasses. I wait. In fact, I’ll wait all night. I’d rather stand here all evening than wade back into that chaos and conversation.

A waiter sweeps by, dropping unused cutlery on the bar in a clatter. Plates, forks, and a lone butter knife lay abandoned at the edge. I watch it a beat too long. We’re past the food phase, and this is where the night usually loosens its grip on standards.

I stay where I am, letting the noise burn itself out, when a hand clamps around my waist. Another seals over my mouth.

The world snaps into sharp, murderous clarity.

My muscles jolt into autopilot, and before I can register anything, my fingers close around the nearest object. The butter knife.

I’m hauled backwards violently into the shadowy crevice behind the column, the one that hides the hallway to the back exit. The bar noise softens into a muffled throb, swallowed by darkness.

My body is swung around, back pressed hard against the wall. Before the face of my perpetrator can come into view, I have the knife pressed against their ribs, but my action dies down the moment I peer into puppy-dog brown eyes.

“Dante,” I exhale as he lifts his hand from my mouth.

He’s so close that I can see the dim light catching on the sharp line of his cheekbone. My entire body drops out of fight mode so fast I nearly sway.

A grin unfurls across his face, carved with the kind of arrogance men like him wear as naturally as skin.

“A butter knife?” his voice drops, warm and taunting. “That’s adorable.” The ‘knife’ in question slips from my fingers, clattering against the floor.

“I could’ve stabbed you.”

He leans in just enough that the air seems to tighten between us. “Nah,” he murmurs, mouth curving with wicked amusement. “I’m too fast, but you already know that.”

For a suspended second, neither of us moves. I calculate his words, and before a narrative can form, he utters, “You’ve experienced my capabilities first-hand in the boxing ring yesterday.”

Fuck. The memories flood into my mind, spilling with the heat that radiated off his body as we were pressed so tight against each other the world blurred. But what really hits me is the remembrance of his words as I had him pinned beneath me.

“You’re insane,” I state, biting back a smile.

He tilts his head, dark eyes catching the low light. “Took you long enough to notice.”

A grin slips free before I can stop it, adrenaline still fizzing beneath my skin. Dante doesn’t step back. He lingers, his heat settling over me, and I let it.

I make the first move and push at his chest. “You usually ambush people like this in public places?”

He raises his hands, palms open, the picture of faux innocence. “You looked bored,” he claims, grin sharpening. “Thought I’d make your night interesting.”

And fuck it did.

“You were watching me?” I say, anticipating his answer.

Dante places a hand against the wall next to my face. “I saw your message. Thought I’d swing by and see how bad you needed rescuing. And then I find you here, looking lost like a stray cat… I just couldn’t help myself.”

I remain quiet, letting the feral glint in his eyes devour me.

“Thought I’d make sure you were still alive,” he continues. My skin prickles at that, sending waves of magma pulsing through my arteries. He really does things to me.

“It’s going to take more than boredom to kill me.” And my words stir something in him.

“Oh? Then what does kill you, kitten?” His gaze drops for a second, then rises again.

The question fogs my brain, yet one possibility narrows in. “Letting something distract me,” I say in full, unpredictable honesty.

“Careful,” he replies lightly. “You say that like it’s a challenge.”

A woman’s voice booms from behind the bar as she clears her throat. A hint of disappointment flickers across Dante’s face before inevitably composing itself again as he pulls away. I let my gaze turn the corner before pulling myself together as I move towards the bar.