She Needed My Blood, But I Needed Revenge - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading She Needed My Blood, But I Needed Revenge, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of She Needed My Blood, But I Needed Revenge.
No matter how hard I tried to distract myself, my mind kept circling back to that moment—the way I'd stumbled into him, the heat of his hands gripping my waist, the fleeting brush of his lips against mine.
Bryant Jones.
I knew him. We'd gone to the same college, though our worlds couldn't have been more different. I was the scholarship girl, head down, just trying to survive. He was the golden boy—effortlessly charming, the kind of guy people naturally gravitated toward.
I remembered the first time we'd crossed paths—my first day of class, flustered and fumbling with my books, seconds away from face-planting in front of everyone. Then he was there, steadying me with one hand, flashing that easy smile like it was nothing.
After that? I admired him from afar. That's all I could do. Bryant Jones might as well have been on another planet—untouchable, while I was practically invisible.
But there was something else. Bryant had once been Gabriel's best friend.
Until they weren't. Until whatever happened between them turned explosive, leaving everyone whispering.
My pulse spiked as the realization hit me. Jones.
Was Bryant the man my parents were arranging for me to marry?
I didn't stop to think. My feet carried me straight to my father's study before my brain could catch up.
The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
"Am I marrying Bryant Jones?"
Only then did I see him.
There.
Bryant stood beside my father, his broad frame commanding the room like he owned it. He turned, that infuriatingly confident smirk already playing on his lips.
"I believe the correct answer is yes, my lady," he said, voice smooth as whiskey. "Unless, of course, you'd like to say no?"
My face burned. I stood frozen, thrown off by his calm—by the way he was looking at me, like he'd been waiting for this moment.
"I—uh—" I stammered, then did the only logical thing: spun on my heel and bolted.
His low chuckle followed me down the hall.
I ended up in the garden, my usual escape when the world got too loud. The cool air and the scent of blossoms helped steady my racing thoughts.
What the hell had I just done? And why did Bryant Jones turn me into a flustered mess with one look?
Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me. I turned.
Bryant stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Figured I'd find you here," he said, offering them to me. "I've always wanted to give these to you."
I stared at the blooms, my chest tight. "Then why didn't you?"
His smile faltered, just for a second. "Gabriel wanted you. Bro code. I stayed away." His gaze locked onto mine, intensity burning behind it. "If I'd known he'd hurt you like that? I never would've let him near you. I should've made you mine from the start."
The admission hit me like a punch. All this time, I'd thought Gabriel had only taken my trust. I never realized he'd taken this too.
I traced a finger over the delicate petals. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.
"Well," I said, lifting my chin with a smirk of my own. "You're not that late. We can still make Gabriel furious."
Bryant's grin was downright wicked. "Should we send him a wedding invitation?"
I laughed, the sound bright and unburdened. "That'd be perfect."
Our laughter tangled in the evening air, lighter than anything I'd felt in years. For the first time, it didn't feel like I was running—just finally arriving exactly where I belonged.
Bryant Jones.
I knew him. We'd gone to the same college, though our worlds couldn't have been more different. I was the scholarship girl, head down, just trying to survive. He was the golden boy—effortlessly charming, the kind of guy people naturally gravitated toward.
I remembered the first time we'd crossed paths—my first day of class, flustered and fumbling with my books, seconds away from face-planting in front of everyone. Then he was there, steadying me with one hand, flashing that easy smile like it was nothing.
After that? I admired him from afar. That's all I could do. Bryant Jones might as well have been on another planet—untouchable, while I was practically invisible.
But there was something else. Bryant had once been Gabriel's best friend.
Until they weren't. Until whatever happened between them turned explosive, leaving everyone whispering.
My pulse spiked as the realization hit me. Jones.
Was Bryant the man my parents were arranging for me to marry?
I didn't stop to think. My feet carried me straight to my father's study before my brain could catch up.
The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
"Am I marrying Bryant Jones?"
Only then did I see him.
There.
Bryant stood beside my father, his broad frame commanding the room like he owned it. He turned, that infuriatingly confident smirk already playing on his lips.
"I believe the correct answer is yes, my lady," he said, voice smooth as whiskey. "Unless, of course, you'd like to say no?"
My face burned. I stood frozen, thrown off by his calm—by the way he was looking at me, like he'd been waiting for this moment.
"I—uh—" I stammered, then did the only logical thing: spun on my heel and bolted.
His low chuckle followed me down the hall.
I ended up in the garden, my usual escape when the world got too loud. The cool air and the scent of blossoms helped steady my racing thoughts.
What the hell had I just done? And why did Bryant Jones turn me into a flustered mess with one look?
Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me. I turned.
Bryant stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Figured I'd find you here," he said, offering them to me. "I've always wanted to give these to you."
I stared at the blooms, my chest tight. "Then why didn't you?"
His smile faltered, just for a second. "Gabriel wanted you. Bro code. I stayed away." His gaze locked onto mine, intensity burning behind it. "If I'd known he'd hurt you like that? I never would've let him near you. I should've made you mine from the start."
The admission hit me like a punch. All this time, I'd thought Gabriel had only taken my trust. I never realized he'd taken this too.
I traced a finger over the delicate petals. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be.
"Well," I said, lifting my chin with a smirk of my own. "You're not that late. We can still make Gabriel furious."
Bryant's grin was downright wicked. "Should we send him a wedding invitation?"
I laughed, the sound bright and unburdened. "That'd be perfect."
Our laughter tangled in the evening air, lighter than anything I'd felt in years. For the first time, it didn't feel like I was running—just finally arriving exactly where I belonged.
End of She Needed My Blood, But I Needed Revenge Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to She Needed My Blood, But I Needed Revenge book page.