Page 36 of Iris' Lying Eyes
“Bastion!” I snarl, but he ignores me.
The cool air rushes against my bum, and I pause in disbelief before flailing in his arms, but I’m no match for Bastion on a good day.
Still, I refuse to give in, and his forbidding scowl when he drops me in the SUV confirms he didn’t appreciate my antics.
Darn.
Once we’re in the car, I scooch away, but he grabs me up and pulls me under his arm. The contact feels better than it should, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t put up a token fight.
Still, when I elbow him, he easily subdues me, and exhausted, I subside. When was the last time I was held without threat?
I don’t remember, and the feeling chokes my throat. I can’t get used to this. It’s temporary. I have a plan. And once I’ve done what I agreed to do and John is rotting in the ground, I’m gone.
“Did something happen at Salvatore’s?” Bastion asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
Biting my lip, I wave my hand and infuse a nonchalance I don’t feel, as I say, “No.”
“Are you sure?” he says, and I glance into his skeptical expression.
“Yes.”
He searches my eyes and nods before looking out the window. For a moment, I stare at his fiercely handsome facade.
There’s nothing soft about Bastion. From his shaved head to the slight crook in his nose where it’s clear it was broken.
He has tattoos on his fingers that read fuck on his right knuckles and you on the others. His broad chest is huge, his arms massive. He towers over most men and makes the tallest of women look frail.
He’s a beast, and I close my eyes, blocking out the sight because, for me, his savagery is beautiful, and I’d rather he not sense it.
When we pull up to his house, I stare at the façade grimly before exiting behind him, while pulling his suit jacket down over my ass.
I’m right back where I started, and this is not good news.
Bastion stalks before me, and for the first time, I eye him in his suit. Although he looks good, magnificent really, I think I prefer him in the jeans and tees he wore before.
Or maybe it’s just the person who used to wear them I miss.
Bastion strides off into the bowels of the house without bothering to speak to me, and with a sigh, I head to the bedroom to change.
If I were less tired, I would wander around in his jacket just to get a rise out of him but today is not a good day.
Unfortunately, I’m stopped at the bottom of the stairs when Roman appears. His greedy gaze dips to my breasts, barely concealed by the coat, before he checks out my bare legs.
His eyes flare, and I huff, ignoring the urge to wrap the coat tighter around me. Assholes like this one sense weakness and will pounce before I have time to say fuck me.
Roman is an apex predator, to be sure. I know John’s no picnic, and I hate his fucking guts, but he’s got nothing on this one.
Roman would gut you like a fish as soon as smile at you. I sensed it the first time I met him, and it still resides in the void behind his eyes.
He doesn’t fucking care.
“Bastion fucked you yet?” he asks, pinning me with his stare.
Snorting, I place my hand on my hip. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
His lip curls, and the affectation leaves me cold. “Maybe when he’s had his fill, I’ll give it a go.”
“I’m not a fucking toy, and no, you can’t have a go,” I hiss.