Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(70)

I poured Lyrik the same tumbler of Jager as Ash.

He didn’t get the best of me. Not anymore. He didn’t get what was sacred and special and had only been offered to him. He didn’t get my joy or my belief or my hope.

With their drinks arranged on a tray, I headed their way. I stumbled to a stop when I saw Ash walking back to their table.

Three girls in tow.

My stomach plummeted.

No. No. No.

Why would Ash do this to me?

This I could not handle. This I could not face. A curl of jealousy twisted through me like a nasty viper. Fangs impaling my skin and sinking into my flesh. Pumping me full of poison.

Poison hurt, didn’t it?

Burned and stung as it sped through your veins, setting every cell to decay?

Sophie smiled as she passed by. I shoved the tray at her. “Here, take this to my friends. Just a warning…it looks like you might have lost your date for the night.”

Or maybe Lyrik would take all three of them home.

Shit.

If it wasn’t so late, I’d ask Shea if I could come crash at her place.

No way could I stomach stumbling into them at my apartment tonight.

Sophie’s attention darted that direction. Her face fell. “What an *,” she muttered under her breath.

Yeah. What an *. I just wasn’t entirely sure who I was talking about.

She headed that way carrying about as much spite in her swagger as I’d approached them with ten minutes ago, all the while I struggled not to look that way. Struggled not to care. Struggled to maintain who I’d been before Lyrik had first walked through Charlie’s door more than a year ago.

But I wasn’t sure I knew her anymore.

Wasn’t sure which of us was real.

Sophie delivered the drinks, paused as Ash tugged her down so he could whisper something in her ear. She was almost at a sprint when she danced back wearing a smile that couldn’t have been pried from her face.

“It’s totally still on,” she gushed, completely clueless to my torment.

“That’s great.” I barely managed to voice it without it being loaded down by sarcasm.

“He’s really cute,” she added.

“Yeah, he is,” I agreed, because I totally got Ash’s charm, although I seemed to be wholly immune to it considering Lyrik was the only one who held the power to make me feel.

“Who’s cute?”

I glanced up to find the source of the voice. A man who was nothing more than a boy rested his forearms on the bar top, leaning across it toward me. He couldn’t have been a day older than twenty-one, his collar popped, one of those preppy, pretty boys who made their way into the bar from time to time.

I frowned and he just smiled.

Cheeky and bold, he grinned wider as he cocked his head. “I was kinda hoping you were talking about me, since I couldn’t help but think the same thing about you while I was sitting way over there while you were way over here. Seemed a shame, so here I am.”

He was cute. I kind of wanted to pat him on the top of the head and send him on his way.

But when I felt Lyrik’s fierce, piercing gaze, I was suddenly leaning in the kid’s direction.

“You think I’m cute, huh?” So I guessed I was going to play his game.

The guy chuckled, his stare blatant as it dropped to my chest. I tried not to shiver in disgust.

“I could think of a few better ways to describe you,” he said. “How about later you let me whisper them in your ear? I’ve got a room next door.”

Wow, was I wrong.

The kid wasn’t cute. He was a presumptuous twit.

I leaned in closer and ignored the nausea swirling in my stomach and rising in my throat.

Rise.

I swallowed down that errant thought.

For the last four years, I’d used my body as a weapon. But always as a defense. A tool to keep men just out of reach. Too hot for them to handle. Too dangerous to touch. Giving the impression I’d be all too happy to cut them to pieces if they even tried hurting me in any way, even though in reality I would have been the one shaking in my boots.

But tonight? I hated myself a little more because I used this weapon against Lyrik. Even after he’d destroyed a little of what he’d exposed. I used it against the burning hope that wouldn’t stop churning in my spirit.

I reached across the bar and ran the tip of my index finger down the stranger’s face. “Sure thing, sweetheart. I get off at three.”

As if I was that easy.

I scratched ten digits onto a bar napkin and pressed it into his hand.

Of course they were the wrong ten digits. No chance in hell would I let him touch me.

I hated every second of this.

Back to pretending I was someone I was not.

Messing with this kid, despite how offensively brazen his advances were.

Vindictive in my actions.

But the only thing that made sense right then was to hurt Lyrik the way he was hurting me.

Slow and agonizing. Sharp and severe.

As if I were slowly bleeding out.

I had to build back up the walls. I had to restore the foundation I’d built to survive. I needed to protect and preserve and persevere. And I knew he was watching and I knew he received the message.

You can’t hurt me.

In my periphery, I felt more than saw Lyrik stand from the booth. Chest aching, I glanced that way and met with his gaze.