Page 12 of Ravaged By a Devil

His head barely turns from the impact, and instead of flinching, his lips pull back into a slow, wicked smile.

My blood boils, a wave of pure rage exploding behind my eyes. I snap, raising my other hand to crack across his cheek again, but his arm shoots out like a striking viper.

His fingers wrap roughly around my wrist, pinning my hand in midair with an iron grip. Before I can draw a breath, he yanks me forward, pulling me flush against his rock-hard chest until his hot breath ghosts over my lips.

"You're furious," he purrs, his voice a filthy rumble that makes every nerve ending in my skin scream. "But I can tell you're so fucking attracted to me right now, I bet you're soaking beneath that dress."

I gasp, my face flushing scarlet as a shockwave of heat shoots straight down to my core.

"Get out!" I choke out, squirming fruitlessly against his grip, my voice shaking with fury. "Get the hell out of my house!"

He studies my trembling lips for a beat, a dangerous satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"The offer stays on the table," he murmurs, his tone utterly unbothered.

He releases my wrist, letting my hand drop, and rises to his feet in one fluid, towering motion, looking down at me like he already owns the place.

"I’ll see myself out," he says smoothly. "Make sure you lock the door behind me, sweet face."

He turns and glides out of the bedroom, his steps making barely a whisper against the floorboards.

I collapse onto the edge of the mattress, my legs completely giving out beneath me. My chest heaves, my pulse hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

What kind of absolute psycho did I just bring into my home?

A second later, the soft, barely audible click of the front door closing echoes down the hallway. I sit there in the silence, trembling from the sheer residual heat of his presence, when a sudden, jarring realization hits me like a bucket of ice water.

I don't even know his name.

CHAPTER FOUR

CAIN

It’s been a full hour, and my cheek still stings like a motherfucker.

I’m not even thinking about the pain, though. It’s the utter, unadulterated guts of the girl. The absolute fucking balls it took to lift her small hand and crack it directly across my jaw.

A slow, devious smirk pulls at my lips as I step out of my car, slam the driver’s door shut, and stride across the cold concrete of the underground garage. I hit the call button for the private elevator, leaning my back against the wall while I wait.

I reach up, my blood-crusted knuckles lightly brushing the hot skin of my cheek.

Alexis really slapped me.

As the enforcer and executioner of the Kavanagh family, I am the brother sent when mercy is no longer an option and enemies need to quietly disappear from the face of the earth.

At six-foot-four, with a body built for destruction and ink creeping up my throat, I don't need to say a fucking word to elicit absolute terror in people.

I am a monster, forged in blood and violence, and everyone in this city knows it. No one dares to breathe wrong in my presence, let alone touch me.

Yet Alexis looked straight into my eyes, heard my offer, and laid a hand on me like I was just some regular asshole.

In the same night she dumped some cheap liquor in my lap.

Minutes later, the elevator doors slide open with a silent hiss, ushering me directly into the polished, dimly lit private hallway that leads straight to Zeke’s executive suite. I favor this elevator for a reason—it lets me completely bypass the chaotic noise of the main club.

Eden is easily one of the family’s most profitable fronts, but fuck if I care about the revenue. I hate crowds, I hate useless noise, and thankfully my brothers know better than to ask me to play host.

I reach the oak double doors at the end of the hall, grip the brass handle, and push the office open without knocking.