He ended the call then and looked at the girl ahead. Smiled at her with the deadly calmness he’d learned to control over the years. Saw her smile flicker with confusion.
“I apologize,” he began and handed her the phone, “This was a dirty move.”
She narrowed her gaze, and he saw tension seep into her bones at his words. The air around them chilled to a dangerous degree, but Angel probed further.
“You deserve better.” He said, his voice a mere whisper, quiet enough only for her to hear, “Next time I’ll come prepared.”
Angel blinked at the same time she did. And the air around them moved so fast that her hair swayed violently with it. Angel looked down at his sleeves, and pulled at the cuffs to straighten them as he said,
“Your name, storm?”
The girl didn’t balk. Didn’t even flinch.
“God, you have to do all the work yourself these days don’t you?” she said, exasperated and Angel grinned a lopsided smile. She rolled her eyes as he responded. Despite her nonchalance, Angel could see the tense set of her shoulders. Knew she was wary.Good.
“It’s Raylene Walker.” She sighed and Angel nodded, taking a step in her direction.
This close, he could smell her quiet flowery scent. A perfume? But he wasn’t thinking about that. He was looking down at her eyes, his own filled with so many promises. So many dreams and nightmares now that she was in town.
She didn’t move away from him when his hand rose to cup the side of her neck softly. They both knew what was coming next. And yet, as Angel pulled her closer gently, she didn’t flinch when the blade of his ring cut through her skin. It was a small cut, enough to draw out two drops of blood. Enough to return her favor. Her lips curved into a grin when his thumb swiped over those drops and his hand carefully rose to the side of her face.
Raylene Walker’s smile turned into a razor-sharp grin as he swiped the blood on her cheeks. A sign of war. A promise of death.
“No mistakes next time,Raylene Walker.” He said and took a step away from her. Angel’s eyes took in her actions almost greedily as she stepped closer, following his feet as he backed away from her. He let her hand touch his shoulder as she went up to the tip of her toes to whisper in his ears.
“Don’t touch me ever again.” She said and stepped back down, “Not if you value your fingers.”
Angel grinned, and just as he was about to reply.
“Are they fucking flirting?”
Raylene’s eyes cut to the origin of the voice and widened in surprise as she moved away. Angel sighed, brushed his cuffs again, and looked at Ray with a light nod,
“Until next time, storm.”
She grinned back at him.
And shot him a middle finger in response.
Jesus, Angel thought to himself as he laughed lightly at her vulgar gesture and turned on his heels to face the men and women standing behind him. And walked away. He knew exactly what was coming when Jack Davis shoved his face right next to his and whispered incredulously,
“Were you flirting with her?” he said, and Angel sighed again, “If that’s all you wanted to do, you could fucking warn us, you bloody–”
Angel slapped his palm right atop his friend’s face and shoved him away from him with a tired exhale.
“I hate all of you.” He murmured as his friends cackled around him and they stepped away from the house they’d brought shooting down.
Away from the girl to whom he’d promised war.
3
It had been a while since she’d been cornered like this. Ray crossed her arms, a frown on her face as she faced her so-called allies.Fucking imbeciles, all of them,she cursed in her head as Kyle Larsen paced in front of her. His blonde hair swayed with the wind, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. This close, Ray couldn’t help but admire the boyish handsomeness of his face. With his edged jaw and his bow-shaped lips, Kyle Larsen was the definition of a heartthrob. He had a lean body, one that was stacked with no muscles, and no built-up abs. Kyle was, and always had been, the brains behind all their operations.
Unfortunately, there were times when he was also a blubbering idiot.
“Will you calm the fuck down?” a female voice cut through the tense atmosphere and Ray’s gaze snapped to the girl leaning against the walls.
Verana Smith returned her look with a sharp glare. Ray’s brows furrowed as the other girl made a loud smacking sound and removed a lollipop from her mouth. Her lips edged into a razor-sharp smirk as Ray sighed. Verana Smith, born in India, and brought up everywhere else was hell on legs. Her dark hair was long enough to curl around her round features and compliment her rich, brown skin. Where Ray looked as though she’d been trained like a gods damned acrobat, Verana looked like a soldier. And her beauty was unparalleled. She had a plump body, her curves matching the muscles that Ray never had the motivation to build. Verana smiled at her now, and Ray turned her gaze away, murmuring profanities under her breath.
