Chapter 31 My body in this dress was a weapon. I knew it the moment I saw it hanging in the closet-the only flash of silver in Raziel's endless sea of black that had overtaken my space. It clung to my every curve like spilled mercury. He'd bought everything I was wearing-the shoes, the clutch, the diamond chains that felt cold against my skin. He was spoiling me. I was allowing myself to be spoiled. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my fingers nervously fluffing my hair. I'd left it out, a big, curly afro haloing my head. "You almost ready?" Raziel's voice came from the doorway. He was already dressed in a tuxedo that cost more than my first car, looking like a vampire prince who'd just stepped out of a painting. "Depends," I said, not turning around. "Is this the part where you finally tell me why I'm playing dress-up?" "It's a gala. A friend of my father's is hosting it. It's time people met you." "Met me? Or met the girl you're parading around to piss off your ex-fiancée?" The words were out before I could stop them. It had been weeks since the keyed car incident, since his visit to Alessia's father. But I was still in my feelings. Especially since he was still answering her calls. I didn't believe he wanted her, but the nice-guy shit got on my nerves. So what if he'd known her since they were kids? So what if his mother made him promise to marry her? "What are you going on about now?" He stepped into the room, his presence shrinking the space. "The car," I pressed, my voice quieter. "You told me not to tell your father. Was that to protect her?" His expression didn't change, but a muscle in his jaw ticked. "No. It was to keep a contained problem from becoming an uncontained war. My father doesn't believe in scaling his involvement. It would have escalated beyond repayment for a scratched door." "Okay, fine." My lips pressed together. He probably wasn't wrong-but I still didn't like it. I smoothed my dress and turned to face him, giving him a slow spin. "How do I look?" His eyes dragged over me, slow and scorching. "Like someone's last prayer... or their worst decision." I smirked. "Thank you. You're so poetic, Ra. But I know I'm fine. Just tell me if I look like I belong." He stood, crossed the room in that quiet, looming way he had. "You don't belong," he said, hands brushing my waist as he adjusted the chains against my chest. "You outshine." I couldn't help the smile that curved my lips. "Thank you." He stared at my mouth. He did that a lot. "I want more of a thank you than that." "Oh?" I took a step closer, the air between us crackling. He smelled like that expensive cologne they sold by the ounce and locked behind glass. "What kind of thank you?" In a blink, his hands were on my waist, lifting me like I weighed nothing until we were face to face-me hovering above the floor, legs dangling, heart thumping like a damn drum solo. My breath caught. His voice was low, hungry. "Kiss me," he drawled. I grabbed his tie, pulled him forward, and crushed my lips to his, letting the black diamond at my throat press against the heat of his chest. He kissed me back vigorously, his hands splayed wide across my back, keeping me suspended. I felt like I was in one of those dreams where gravity didn't work the same. The kiss was slow at first, then spiraled into something deeper, hotter-like we were both trying to swallow every word we hadn't said. My lip gloss was everywhere, sticky and sweet, and when I finally pulled back to breathe, his mouth was smeared in it. I reached up and wiped it off with my thumb, dragging it slowly across his bottom lip, smirking at the sight. He stared back at me. "You've changed, Ra," I murmured, eyes locked on his. "I guess you want to like me now, huh?" He didn't answer right away. Just stared, eyes unreadable. Then he set me gently back on my feet, his hands lingering at my waist like he wasn't ready to let go. "You're never going to let that go, huh?" I shook my head. "We'll be a hundred and I'll be reminding you." He let me drop then; it was a short distance to the floor, and I was able to maintain my footing. He laughed. He picked up his pistol from the drawer, sliding it into the holster on his back. "Let's go." The gala was a sea of strangers and wealth. I could feel the weight of a hundred stares, the whispered questions behind raised hands. Raziel's hand was firm and possessive on the small of my back as he led me through the crowd. He introduced me to everyone-judges, politicians, men with cold eyes and practiced smiles. "This is Maya," he'd say, his tone leaving no room for questions. Not my girlfriend, not my friend. Just Maya. A statement. A fact. I told myself not to put too much thought into him not putting a title on what I was to him. He was showing me off. Showing that I mattered. That my past didn't. I was a trophy. A prize. I pasted on a smile, turned on the charm I'd learned from a lifetime of surviving, and played my part. After what felt like an eternity, Raziel was pulled into a conversation with a gruff-looking man who looked like he ate people for a living. Raziel gave my waist a slight squeeze. "I'll be right back. Don't wander far." I nodded, needing a second to breathe. I excused myself and made a beeline for the ladies' room, the click of my heels echoing on the marble floor. I was coming out, adjusting the strap of my dress, when an older woman stepped directly into my path. "You," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. Before I could react, she shoved me hard against the wall. My head snapped back, connecting with the plaster with a dull thud. "You ruined my daughter's life, you little gutter rat!" My vision swam for a second. Then, Alessia and three of her perfectly coiffed friends materialized, forming a little circle around me, blocking me from the main hall. "Look what the trash dragged in," one of them sneered, looking me up and down. "That's a nice dress. Did he buy it for you after he paid your rehab bill?" "Priest paid for my rehab, not Raziel." I couldn't help it. Alessia stepped forward, her face a mask of pure hatred. "Do you think you're special? Do you really think you could just take my place? That you belong here with us?" She laughed, a brittle, ugly sound. "You're a placeholder. A cheap distraction. He'll get bored of you, and you'll end up right back where you started. On your back." The other girls giggled, their eyes gleaming with cruelty. "You keep saying that, but you're the ones bitter and lonely now." "Shut up. You're nothing," Alessia spat, her voice dropping. "You're a dirty secret he's too ashamed to even properly claim. Nobody here knows who you are to him." Maybe that was the truth, maybe it wasn't. I wasn't going to debate it with her or dwell on it. But my heart was hammering against my ribs, a trapped bird. "Just leave me alone," I muttered, trying to push past them. Alessia moved. Her open palm cracked across my cheek with a force that brought instant, hot tears to my eyes. The sound echoed in the hallway. "That's for hitting me," she seethed, her eyes wild. "And this is for thinking you could have what's mine!" One of her friends grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. Another shoved me. I stumbled, my arms flailing, the world dissolving into a blur. I wanted to beat their asses, but I didn't want to fuck up anything for Raziel. Then, suddenly, the pressure was gone. Raziel was just there. He'd just appeared, a storm contained in a tuxedo. He didn't say a word. He simply grabbed the wrist of the girl holding my hair and twisted until she gasped and let go. He shoved the one who'd pushed me so hard she stumbled into the wall. He came to my side, his body a shield between me and them. His eyes were black, his face a terrifying blank mask. He cupped my stinging cheek, his thumb gently brushing the spot Alessia had hit. His touch was shockingly tender amidst the violence. "Who hit you?" he asked, his voice low, calm, and deadly. I was trembling, humiliated, furious. "Raziel, it's okay, just... just let's go. Please." I hesitated. "Maya. Who hit you?" I pointed. "Alessia." His voice was low, ice cold. "Hit her." "What?" "Hit. Her." He didn't blink. "I'm not hitting-" "HIT. HER." So I did. I balled my fist and swung. It connected; the sound echoed. Alessia's head snapped sideways. Her girls froze, stunned. Alessia's mom stepped forward. Raziel hit her with a glare that would have made the devil hesitate. "The rest of them too." I blinked. "What?" He turned to the girls flanking Alessia. "Hit them," he said, slow, like he wanted the words to soak into my brain and the carpet. "They touched you." "I don't-Raziel-" "I said hit them." I swung again. One ducked and squealed, but the second caught it-my open hand, right across her cheek. She gasped, eyes wide, makeup cracking. "You stay still," he pointed at the girl who ducked. He grabbed my hand and swung it; the back of my hand connected with her face and she fell on her butt. Raziel's hand brushed against the small of my back as he stepped forward, his attention landing on the older woman who started this whole thing. She didn't flinch-probably thought she was untouchable. He looked at her with something ancient in his face. "Her too," he said quietly. I hesitated. "I'm not hitting that old lady." His hand slid down to grip mine again. "She laid hands on you first. I don't give a fuck how old she is. Hit her, Maya. Or I'll hit her." Her eyes went big. "You wouldn't. I'm your mother's lifelong friend." He chuckled darkly, pushing me forward. I stepped up, locked eyes with her, and slapped her. Not hard, not enough to break anything, but enough to mark the moment. Enough to say: Don't ever try me again. She stumbled back, gasping like I'd cursed God. Raziel leaned in. "For my mother's sake," he said, voice ice-edged, "I won't make this worse than it already is. But don't let that happen again. Ever." She looked at him like she suddenly remembered who he was. What he was. "Now get the fuck away from me. All of you." They didn't move. "I said fucking move before I mail your body parts back to your families." They scattered. I stood there shaking, adrenaline punching through my veins, my gloss smudged, the edge of my chain burning into my skin. "You said you don't cause trouble," I whispered, breath hitching. "But you got me out here hitting people." He brushed my sweaty hair back from my temple, his fingers still trembling. "I don't care. If they lay a hand on you, you defend yourself. Kill them if you want. I'll make the bodies disappear." Five-year-old Annie, who can understand animals, saved Landon Hawthorne, a wealthy businessman, from suicide. Now she's his whole world and he's her legal cheat-code against every villain fate throws ...