Defy The Alpha(s) - Chapter 216

Chapter 216: The Truth About Friday —2
Roman’s expression brightened the moment he spotted Violet approaching, watching her every step like a predator assessing its prey.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” he teased.

Violet, however, wasn’t smiling. Without hesitation, she tossed a shirt at his face. “Put that on.”

Roman caught it with one hand, his brow arching in question. He lifted the fabric to his nose, sniffing. “Whose shirt is this?”

He could not catch a scent. If anything, it smelled old.

“Doesn’t matter,” Violet said icily. “Just wear it, or we’re not having this conversation.”

Roman played idly with the fabric.”Why?” His voice dipped into something teasing as he let his eyes slowly rake over her, knowing exactly how to get under her skin. “You don’t like what you see?” He gestured toward his bare torso.

Refusing to lower her gaze, Violet kept her expression steeled. “Put. It. On.”

Roman sighed dramatically, pouting in a mean moue. “So violent,” Then, to her shock, he added in a whisper, “I like it.”

Violet’s brows furrowed. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

Thanks to the half moon overhead, its light was just enough for Violet to watch Roman slip the shirt over his head, his muscles flexing as he pulled the fabric down. It fit snugly over his frame, covering enough of his man bits. Thank the gods.

When he was done, he spread his arms wide. “Well? How do I look?

Violet’s response was a sudden heavy slap across his cheek. The playful light in Roman’s eyes vanished instantly.

“You promised you wouldn’t make any request that put me in harm’s way!” she spat.

Pah!

Another slap, this time on the other cheek. Roman took it without flinching. He didn’t even try to stop her. He just stood there, taking it; only grimacing at the sting.

“And yet, you deceived me!” she shouted, her eyes flashing with uncontained fury. “Where is your honor?! What is the worth of your words?!”

Roman’s patience finally snapped.

“It was for your own good!” he yelled at her. He deserved all her violent outburst, but he would not apologize for his actions.

Violet’s breath was ragged, her heart hammering in her chest. She searched his face, trying to understand him. But there were too many thoughts running through her mind, too many emotions warring inside her to get a good read on him.

“More like for your own selfish reasons,” she said, voice bitter.

Roman’s eyes darkened. Without warning, he seized her arm, tugging her so close she nearly collided with his chest. Violet’s breath caught.

For a second, she feared he might strike her, so she instinctively felt for the hidden knife in the pocket of her nightshirt. The same knife she had stolen from Asher during the Running Game. She wasn’t foolish enough to meet Roman without some form of defense.

But Roman didn’t hit her. He just held her. His grip was firm but not painful, his body rigid against hers as he sneered down at her.

“You, Violet Purple,” he hissed, “without knowing anything, come out of nowhere and try to break up a relationship already decreed by the Alpha King. With your sweet little cunt, you seduce my brothers—”

Violet swung at him again, but this time, he caught her wrist mid-air. She struggled, but Roman pulled her closer, until their bodies were nearly flush, their breaths intertwining. The heat between them was suffocating, their rage reaching dangerous levels.

His green eyes burned with a challenge. “Isn’t that the case? Or is there something more special about you?”

Violet gave a harsh laugh. “Of course. A man-whore would always think the worst of others.”

Roman’s muscles coiled, his jaw clenching, her words having landed a blow to his pride. He usually bore that title proudly, but from her lips, it oddly pissed him off. Yet even as he stood there fuming, Violet pushed him further.

“Or did I lie?” she taunted him.

His teeth ground together, his nostrils flaring. “Elsie might be awful, but I’d pick her over a whore like you any day.”

Violet didn’t even blink.

“Good for you,” she said, laughing coldly, her eyes shining with mockery. “The man-whore and the bitch. Both of you would make such an excellent couple. I bet with your prowess, she’d breed you an entire litter to carry on your great legacy!”

She knew her mouth would get her into trouble one day. But tonight? Violet was too angry to care. Moreover, he was the one who had woken her from bed to insult her, she’d not accepting his grace insults lying down.

“Don’t call Elsie that!” Roman snarled, grabbing a fistful of Violet’s hair and yanking back just enough to make her yelp.

Pain flared along her scalp, but Violet refused to show weakness. Instead, she seized the chance to pull out her knife with her free hand. But Roman was faster. He caught her wrist and wrenched the blade from her grip, tossing it aside.

“You really thought you could use that on me?” Roman rasped, eyes bright with the wolf clawing to the surface. The air between them was boiling with a strange tension.

Trembling with anger, Violet bit out.

“Actually, I was thinking of taking out one of your eyes for placing a hand on me. I’m curious if your lovely Elsie would still be so attached to you if you were disfigured.”

“Let’s put that theory to the test, then,” he murmured darkly.

Violet braced herself, fully prepared to fight him. She was already running battle plans through her head. A plan that involved screaming for Lila and the two of them committing murder of the south cardinal alpha. As long as the Oracle kept her mouth shut, nobody would ever suspect there was a cardinal alpha buried behind their shack.

Yes. Her plan was that dark.

But instead, Roman did the unthinkable.

He kissed her.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was fury incarnate.

His lips crashed against hers with bruising force, claiming her mouth like a battlefield. His grip in her hair tightened, angling her head to take more, to devour.

Their rage melted into a tangled mess of anger, tension, and suppressed desire neither of them wanted to admit. Violet gasped against him, her fingers curling into his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.