Sweet Hatred Chapter 7: That sucker owes me a slap at least."

The club air had turned thick, suffocating. My body burned—too hot, too restless, too angry. I needed a mont to breathe, so I stepped outside, the cool night hitting my skin in sharp contrast to the heat pooling in my gut.

My fingers itched, my blood was still simring. I needed sothing else.

My eyes flickered to my clutch. A single cigarette left inside.

I didn't usually smoke. But tonight? I needed sothing—anything—to keep from snapping.

I slid it between my lips, lighting the end with the flick of a silver lighter. Inhale. The smoke burned my throat, coiling in my lungs, but the brief sting grounded . For a second.

I took a deep inhale, steadying myself, when a voice cut through the air.

"Didn't expect to see a woman like you alone out here."

I barely spared the man a glance. Confident. Smug. The type that thought he was the predator in every situation. He didn't realize I ate n like him for breakfast.

I turned to him, tilting my head slightly, eyes half-lidded, lips just barely curved into sothing between amusent and boredom. Let's play, then.

"Is that so?" I purred, taking a slow step closer. His confidence flickered, just for a second, but it was enough. I had him. Hook, line, and sinker.

He swallowed, eyes darting to my lips. Predictable.

I let my fingers ghost up his arm, just barely touching, and watched with cold satisfaction as he stiffened. He was already at my rcy, already drowning in whatever illusion he thought he could control.

"Tell ," I murmured, my lips inches from his ear, "do you always approach won who are far out of your league, or am I just lucky tonight?"

The man was still talking. Or maybe trying to. His voice droned in my ears, an unimportant noise, like static. He really thought he was sothing. Cute.

I tilted my head, watching him, a slow, sharp smile curling at the corner of my lips. Poor fool. He didn't realize he looked desperate.

"Let guess," I murmured, my voice like silk laced with thorns. "You're used to won lting for you, aren't you?"

He smirked, cocky. "Can't say I've had any complaints."

I laughed—a low, wicked sound that sent a visible shudder down his spine. "Of course you haven't," I mused, my fingers ghosting over the edge of his jaw. "But that's because you've never t a woman who could chew you up and spit you out."

His smirk faltered.

I leaned in, lips just shy of brushing his ear. "Sha. You're not nearly as interesting as I hoped."

Before he could sputter a response, I stepped back, my patience for this little ga gone. I sucked in another breath from the heat of the cigarette, my eyes darting around.

Then—I saw him.

Kael Roman.

Standing by his sleek black car, phone pressed to his ear, his broad shoulders bathed in the glow of a streetlamp. Admirers pointing at him while gushing quietly. He looked untouched by the night, by the chaos inside and outside the club, by .

Sothing inside snapped.

The teasing smirk I'd worn for my prey vanished. My blood turned molten. My fingers clenched around the cigarette, nails digging into my palm.

That smug devil. I'd recognize him even in the darkest pit of hell. The taste of his na on my tongue was bitter, acidic. My pulse roared in my ears, a violent drumbeat of rage. The urge to go to him overwheld .

I shouldn't go over there. I shouldn't. But God—

I exhaled, smoke curling from my lips like a dragon on the verge of breathing fire.

But then my feet were moving brushing past the poor fella still trying to woo .

"That sucker owes a slap at least." I muttered, flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath my heel.

The desperate cries of the little fella blurred in the background as I stord toward Kael, my pulse thundering in my ears.

He was still distracted on the phone, his deep voice cutting through the air with effortless authority. But then—he felt . I saw it. That slight shift in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed, as if his body recognized before his eyes did.

I stopped inches away from him, my presence undeniable.

And then, finally—he turned.

Our gazes collided.

An empty smile crept onto my lips just as his body froze. His call ended abruptly. A flicker of sothing—surprise?—crossed his face before it vanished behind that sa cold indifference I loathed.

"Well, well," Kael murmured, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Look what the wind dragged in."

His voice was as smooth as ever, laced with condescension. A taunt hidden behind polite indifference.

The words were barbed, but his gaze lingered on my mouth. Just a beat too long.

I folded my arms, tilting my head with a mock-sweet smile. "Disappointed to see ?"

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "I would say 'surprised'—but then again, it is like you to appear uninvited." His eyes raked over , slow, deliberate. "Persistent little thing, aren't you?"

My smile sharpened. "And it's so like you to talk down to others from your throne of arrogance, isn't it? What's wrong, Kael? Still compensating for sothing?"

His jaw ticked, but his smirk remained. "At least I don't need to fake competence to feel good about myself."

My blood turned to acid.

I don't rember thinking. I don't rember deciding.

I just moved.

My hand snapped up. The slap cracked through the air, sharp as a gunshot.