My jaw clenches as she walks away from me. I almost stop her—I'm not a man to walk away from and fuck if I would let anyone even try to pull that bullshit with me otherwise.

But this girl is different. When I push, she pushes back twice as hard. If I'm being honest, I don't think I've met a more fascinatingly infuriating woman in my life.

"Sin."

I'm so distracted with watching her plump little ass sway in her black dress that I don't notice Oliver approach. He nudges my arm with a glass of golden liquid. The sharpness of alcohol stings my nostrils. I don't like drinking when I have business to attend to, but it feels necessary tonight.

I take the glass of rum from his tattooed fingers and take a sip, washing her taste from my tongue. "Keep an eye on her." There's no doubt that the brat will find herself in some kind of trouble.

There are too many monsters here tonight. Too many that would love to take her from me.

I grit my teeth, fingers clenching around my glass. Fuckers have another thing coming if they try. If there's one thing that's certain, it's that I don't share.

"You seem agitated," Oliver says as his eyes follow her through the crowd. She's wandered over to the human side, making a bee-line for the bar. "Have you fed lately?"

I scowl. "No." Damn brat has my hands tied. Can't walk two feet without her mouth getting her into trouble.

Of course, most of that trouble is me. And I find her tongue to be as sweet as it is poisonous—so tempting to silence her brazen words as I corrupt her mouth with my own.

"How long has it been?"

I grunt. "A week maybe." Even before I had to worry about keeping her out of trouble, Capponi has been yanking my chain. The money is good, but shit, business with him is like walking on a field of land mines.

"Back room's clean," Oliver says, taking a sip of the whiskey in his glass. He winces at the memory of Jaxon's brain matter splattered across the ground.

The little shit managed to get him good. I was never a fan of his. He was as thick-skulled as they come, but I know Oliver liked him just fine.

"Finally got the stains out?"

He grimaces, probably recalling them digging the chunks of flesh out of the carpet. We'd called in specialists for it. Not just to get out the overwhelming stench of death, but also because even I wasn't as unsympathetic to make them clean up the remains of someone who used to be a friend.

"Yeah," he grunts, swirling the liquor in his glass. "It's all out now."

"Good." I need a good fuck and another glass of rum and just maybe I'll be able to get through the night without thinking of how sweet she tasted on my tongue.

...

"I'm Lola." The blonde grinds into me, smiling deviously. "What's your name?"

I sigh, hands fitting into the small of her waist. She's an attractive woman—small waist, big tits, and curvy ass, but choosing her was purely coincidental. Tonight I'm hungry and pissed and she was the first thing to throw me a bone, so I took it.

"Listen darling," I say, watching her eyes narrow at disinterest in my voice. "I don't care what your name is. If you're looking for a kiss and a hot date, you're fucking with the wrong man." It's always awkward when they feel special. Better to tell them before they get expectations.

"You're an asshole." She shifts in my lap, pushing her body closer to me so her chest presses against mine. The scent of cheap vanilla perfume tickles my nose. "But damn, you're hot." Leaning forward, she crushes her lips to mine.

Human women are always so easy, it's astounding. I resist the urge to push her off my lap and find someone more challenging. Tonight I need someone simple.

She gasps as I grind into her. Her mouth is wet and needy against me, demanding I give her pleasure. I grunt against her lips, pushing her shoulders back.

She blinks at me, smiling lazily. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Get up." It'll be easier to just bend her over and fuck her over the bar in the back room. Judging from her lust-filled gaze, she won't mind.

I take her wrist, pushing through bodies to make it to the back door. Instinctively, my eyes roam over the bar for a familiar head of dark waves.

Someone's given her an entire bottle of vodka. She's slumped in her chair, clutching the thing to her chest like a teddy bear. Next to her is a man who couldn't be older than twenty-two, his brown hair slicked back and looking painfully ordinary in a black t-shirt and jeans.

I scowl as he pivots his body toward her, grinning as he slides her a drink. They seem too friendly, and judging from the way he tries angle himself as close to her as possible, he wants more with her than just a friendly chat.

My feet are moving before I've even realized I've changed my path. I drop the girl's wrist, furiously pushing through people and imagining how satisfying my hand would look around his windpipe.

I growl, looking for a familiar large body filled with tattoos. Where the fuck is Oliver? I told him to keep an eye on her.

"What the fuck?" The blonde latches onto my wrist, tugging sharply. I still, turning to send her a look that makes her pale and tug her quivering hand back to her side. "Where are you going?"

"Change of plans, sweetheart." I turn away, ignoring the furious glare she sends my way. "Maybe I'll find you later."

She shouts something at me as I walk away. I don't care enough to try to make out the words over the pounding music. I doubt I'll ever see her again.

He's leaning forward now, cupping her small face in his hands. She smiles a little too widely, her movements sluggish with alcohol. As he leans forward and puts his lips on hers, I see red.

She startles as she sees me approach, pushing his face away and sending me a challenging albeit languid glare.

"What?" She curls the vodka closer to her chest as if she's afraid I'll take it from her at any second.

I don't respond, turning my eyes upon the tool that still has the nerve to leave his hand curled around her waist.

"What the hell, man?" He even has the voice of a boy that hasn't finished growing yet. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, leaning forward and yanking his hand away from her body.

"Time to go home, little boy. I'm taking back what's mine now."

He narrows his plain brown eyes. "The fuck I'm not. Who do you think you are?"

I don't realize my grip has tightened on his wrist until his eyes go wide and it cracks noisily under my fingers. I close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and attempting to calm the simmering rage in my veins.

I drop his hand, jaw clenching as I look at the vodka bottle. It's Oval Swarovski, the expensive label. An entire bottle costs an arm and a leg to get ahold of. "Where'd you get the money for that?"

She blinks her large, glazed-over eyes. A part of me itches to see what they look like without the cobalt blue contacts she wears. "I told them to put it on your tab."

I sigh, arms stretching out to wind underneath her knees and support the small of her back, lifting her into my arms. From the way she wobbles on her chair, I know it's a bad idea to let her try to walk through a crowd of people with stilettos. "You like to test my patience, don't you, girl?"

She giggles and the sound is pleasing although it's fueled by alcohol and the high of partying. "Maybe a little." She rests her head in the crook of my neck, closing her eyes as she hums the tune to the song that rings around us.

"Was our kiss really that good?" she slurs, breath tickling my neck. "That why you got all jealous with my lips on someone else?"

I snort. "It's getting there."

She frowns, opening her eyes just to glare at me. "You're an ass. I bet you've never even had a girlfriend."

"I don't do girlfriends."

"Then what would you call them?"

"Fuck-buddies. A good lay. Pussy. A nice slice of ass." I roll my eyes at the disgusted look on her face. Her innocence practically radiates out of her. "Do you want me to continue?"

She huffs, knocking her head back onto my shoulder. "No. You're gross."

"You seem oddly comfortable in my arms for someone who thinks I'm gross."

She doesn't answer that. I know if I look down she'll have that familiar shade of pink that colors her face so frequently.

We're almost to the door when someone catches my arm.

"Sin," a deep voice rumbles. "Shit. What happened?"

My jaw clenches as I glance over at Oliver, a new wave of fury lighting my veins. If I didn't have her in my arms I'd have him by the neck. "Someone didn't do what I asked of him."

He winces and I notice that there's a shiny purple bruise rimming his eye and his lip is split down the middle. "Look, I'm sorry but Capponi's—"

"Save it," I say, a muscle ticking in my forehead. I've dealt with so much bullshit tonight that I'm surprised I haven't popped a blood vessel. "Get the door, Oliver."

She squints her eyes shut at the brightness of the LED lights mounted on the walls, looking particularly small and pale in my arms.

"You alright, angel?" That fucker better not have slipped her something. I'd have no problem turning around and killing him by making him choke on his dick.

She grunts, scrubbing a shaky hand over her face. I tighten my grip around her as she tenses, arm falling back to her side.

"Oh fuck," she moans, eyes wide. "Put me down. I'm going to be sick."