Page 4 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

My pulse jolted, the earth shifting slightly under my feet.

Cory made a choking noise. “I—I’m sure that was an accident. I will?—”

“It wasn’t,” the fallen angel looming over my left shoulder assured him, biding his time before he grabbed me by the neck and dragged me down to where he kept all the other souls for his torturing pleasure.

Cory’s teeth snapped shut. He blinked, recalibrating.

“Give us a minute, Dawson.”

“I… Louis was just about to escort?—”

“Leave.”

Cory’s head drooped. “Yes, of course. My apologies for the intrusion,” he muttered, shuffling out of his own office like a guest chastised for overstaying their welcome.

My heart was climbing up my throat, electricity nipping at my nerves like I was strapped to a dicey parachute and about to jump off a plane.

“You didn’t have to be so rude,” I said breezily, checking my cuticles as though I’d never experienced a single care in the world. “He would have left just as quickly if you’d asked nicely.”

The man clicked his tongue. “I don’t take advice from pathological liars, especially when it comes to manners.”

My stomach swooped as he nudged my bag out of the way with his foot, dragging the other chair forward to ensure my maximum entrapment between his person and the desk. He unbuttoned his tailored jacket and took a seat.

I continued to study my soft pink nails as though he bored me. He waited, hands clasped loosely over his abdomen, until I decided to pay him the attention he thought he deserved. Slowly, I allowed my gaze to surface over the vast span of his suited chest, his crisply secured tie, corded neck, strong chin. And finally, those eyes.

His pupils flared when our gazes locked, the golden halo around them shimmering. The air crackled, and he grinned, sharp canines winking under the buttery sunset. It was blinding; he was beautiful in that terrifyingly ethereal way that made your survival instincts kick in. Made you want to run despite knowing he’d only enjoy the chase.

With a taunting, arrogant twist to his grin, Dominic Crawford leaned forward and loosely swirled a lock of my hair around his index finger.

“Boo.”

2

Bad news.

Today was the first day of grade 6 and guess who’s in my class AGAIN. Assigned to the seat right freaking beside me for the whole entire year! THE MONSTROSITY OF MOTHERFREAKING LOCH NESS, THAT’S WHO.

WHY OH WHY, do our last names have to start with the same stupid letter? As if we don’t see enough of each other already.

This sucks.

Loch Ness sucks.

More on this never because it’s not good for my preteen soul.

I blinked,but the mirage remained intact.

He was here. He was different.

His signature dark, floppy curls had been clipped and tamed into perfect submission. His bone structure had hardened around the edges. Matured.

He was older. Broader. Angry.

So very angry.

I smacked his hand away, snapping out of it. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, come on.” His voice was so much darker than it used to be. It suited him perfectly. “Even you’re smart enough to have figured it out by now.”