Page 127 of Sweet Nightmare
My eyes narrow.
He knows.
Of course he knows.
“Careful, Khaos.”
“Is that a threat, princess?”
Princess.
Most women would probably melt if a man who looked like him called them that.
I’m not most women.
Besides, I’m almost certain he uses it to mock me and the ridiculous title the media decided to give me.
“It’s advice, Black Sheep.”
There.
I know a few things about him, too.
He goes quiet, and I watch his expression change as the wheels in his head start turning.
For half a second, I can practically see him wondering how much I know and then his expression smooths over and he forces a smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Sounds threatening.”
“It is.”
His red lips curve again and I hate that I notice them.
They’re annoyingly pretty, too. I’ve seen men with nice lips before, but his are a naturally beautiful shade of red that women probably spend money trying to recreate with lipstick.
Kind of unfair.
He catches me looking, and my attention snaps back to his eyes.
“Get the fuck inside.”
Who does he think he is? I open my mouth to remind him he doesn’t get to order me around, but before I can speak, he scoops up a handful of snow.
“What are you—”
The snowball hits the top of my head.
I freeze as snow slides into my hair and onto my shoulder. Slowly, I turn to face him.
He looks unbearably pleased with himself.
“You did not just throw a snowball at me.”
His mouth twitches.
“I did.”
My jaw drops slightly because of the nerve of this man.
