Page 126 of Iris' Lying Eyes
Bastion looks fan-fucking-tastic in a suit with a charcoal tie. I can’t help but run my gaze over his form, eating up what I know exists below the suit. Sheer fucking muscle, tattoos for days, and a hefty dick. He’s perfection, or at least he is to me, but now, his grim demeanor is even grimmer.
She’s clutching his bicep with a wide smile, dressed in a tight white gown better suited for a bride. What the fuck is he doing here and on her arm?
If his expression wasn’t forbiddingly grim, I might march over there and knee him in the nuts, but as it stands, I can barely breathe. What fresh hell is this?
She turns and whispers something in his ear, her lips pressed intimately close, and I clench my hand as I gaze at them blindly. I hate him—some part of me does—but the other, softer girl who apparently still exists under the armor is devastated by his betrayal. I thought lying about Sam was bad, but this? It doesn’t even have a valid reason behind it. This is a punishment.
Sensing my stare, Bastion glances up. His brows lower before smoothing into indifference, but his eyes bore into mine, sending me a message I’m not sure I care to decipher.
Stretching my lips into a smile, I nod coolly and turn away, desperate to escape into the masses. It can’t be anything more than by design that he’s with her, considering our history. But why?
I disappear into the crowd, hoping to fucking fall through the floor, never to emerge. Tears push at my eyes, but I suck them back and raise my chin. I will not bow to a man, not even Bastion fucking Smith Bruno.
He’s relentless, though, and no sooner do I emerge on the terrace than he appears. It’s stupid really. His actions are meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but I guess it’s easier to focus on his treachery than what’s about to go down.
“Baby—”
“Why did you come here with her?” I demand and he pauses, his outstretched hand dropping away.
I shiver at the imagery because for us, this is always how it ends—every fucking time. What the fuck am I doing?
“I’m doing what needs to be done,” he rasps and I snort.
“Appearing on some bitch’s arm is what needs to be done?” I say, forming air quotes in case he missed my sarcasm.
He levels his dark gaze on me, but I raise my chin. Enough. Isn’t it fucking enough?
“I told you,” he says.
“Told me what?”
“You’re fucking mine, Iris, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”
The words make me dizzy, and I hold out my hand, fighting the ever-present fucking hope that brings me down in the end. “Okay, let’s say I believe you, then why some other bitch, B?”
He waves his hand and growls, “You think I wanted to come here with her? I have no use for that bitch.”
“Then why?” I snarl, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.
He covers my fingers and leans into my face, his breath caressing my temple. “It’s not like McCafferty invited me to this thing. I found another way in.”
Huh. No. I can’t go down this road again.
Ignoring the weird pulse in my chest, I shake my head and pull away but he tightens his hold and I fall against his chest as he tips my chin back. “This isn’t over, Iris. It’ll never be over. Not for me. You can run, but I will find you.”
“Why?” I ask, searching his stark gaze. It doesn’t make sense. None of it but my heart burns to believe even as my brain is screaming at me to fucking run.
“Because,” he says, caressing my bottom lip, “you’re the only one who’s ever seen me and wanted more.”
“B,” I say, bowing my head. I’m simultaneously engulfed with warmth and sadness. How can he possibly think that about himself? “That’s not tru—”
Grabbing my cheeks, he says roughly, “Yes. Stop. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” I snap, and he smiles.
“Aren’t you?”
Who is this fucker and where did Bastion go? Since when does he smile? Smile!