Cold Hearted Bastard (The Underworld Kings #1; Underworld Kings)

by Jenika Snow

If you were lonely enough, it was almost like you were never alone. It was a constant, heavy presence that weighed on you almost like companionship, another person. It was a friend I’d grown very acquainted with as the years dragged on,

didn’t realize I had been moving until I was right in front of him. He turned his attention to me, his dark, thick eyebrows pulling low, as if he were fucking pissed I’d dared to interrupt what he was doing. His mouth was moving, and I could assume he was asking me what the fuck I wanted, maybe threatening to kill me. Without taking my gaze off him, I reached out and pulled Lina away from him, could feel her looking at me, could’ve assumed her eyes were wide and an expression of shock covered her face. The fucker’s mouth was still moving, faster now, his anger coating his face in a red hue, his eyes narrowing, a vein popping out in his forehead from his rage. I was aware of words spilling from my mouth and directed toward Lina. Words that would have been close to “Stay close to me. Everything will be okay.” But my mind was too hazy with anger and possessiveness to grasp any kind of sanity right now or to make sure I’d even said the words out loud. And then I felt a heavy weight in my hand—one of the decorative granite balls that sat on a few of the tables, the design reminiscent of the detailed work on Fabergé eggs. I felt this low-level hum fill me as everything else blurred. I slammed the granite ball against the side of the fucker’s head, and when he stumbled back, blood making a trail down his temple from the crack to his skull, I grabbed his wrist, slammed it against the wall, and twisted his arm so his palm was flush with the golden-threaded damask wallpaper. I broug...

Poetry