Page 87 of Inked Desires

I speed down the icy road. The tires almost lose grip. The engine roars, but I push harder. How long has he been waiting in the cold? How long did he hold out before calling me?

With a violent screech, the car skids to a stop in front of a luxury apartment complex.

I bolt out.

In the middle of the lot, Andrew stands alone, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets against the freezing night. I rush toward him.

“Where is he?” I yell into the darkness.

“Can I stay at your place?” he asks instead of answering.

It’s not a question he even needs to ask. There’s only one answer.

“Where is he, Andrew?” I press, impatient.

He glances toward the building. Without another word, I take off running.

“Arès!” he calls after me, but I don’t stop.

Behind me, I hear his hurried footsteps.

“What floor?” I throw over my shoulder without slowing down.

His breathless voice barely reaches me.“It’s pointless!”

His frustration is clear—but I don’t give a damn. That bastard’s insane. I’m too angry to talk this out. I push through the door and race up the stairs.

“Third floor,” he finally says.

I take the steps two at a time. At the only door on the landing, I pound my fist against it.

“Open up, you piece of shit!” I shout down the hallway.

I slam my fist again and again until the door suddenly flies open. Without hesitation, I draw back and slam my fist straight into his face. A sickening crack echoes, followed by a rush of brutal satisfaction.

The asshole before me screams, clutching his nose as blood starts to pour.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he roars.

I shove him inside, fully aware Andrew is behind me, witnessing the whole thing.

“If you touch him again, I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you,” I growl, voice like ice.

“Did you ask him whathewanted? Or is it only different when it’syou?” he spits back, provocatively.

I step toward him. He immediately backs up. I chuckle. This coward claims he fought for Jace? He probably just cleaned his toilets.

“He kissedme. That makes all the difference, you fucking prick. Try forcing him again, and I’ll break a lot more than your nose,” I warn.

He straightens, drops his bloodied hands from his face, and puffs out his chest like he’s got something to prove.

“Fine. Next time, I’ll ask first,” he says with a smug smile.

I clench my fists, struggling against the urge to crush his throat. Fuck, this guy is asking for it. Just looking at him makes me see red.

“There won’t be a next time. Andrew doesn’t live here anymore. Stay the fuck away from him.”

I turn toward the only person that matters, grab his arm, and drag him out with me, storming down the stairs. He doesn’t resist, which suits me just fine—I’m in no mood to argue.