The corner of his eye glanced for the umpteenth time at the bright red bloodstain on the white bed sheet beside him, which should have been the most precious gift a girl gave to the man she loved. Yet in Mason Hawkins' eyes, his gaze was filled with nothing but extreme disgust.
Because it was not from the one he loved in his heart; he didn't cherish it, nor did he want it.
Yet, it was forced upon him, and the most infuriating thing was that he couldn't even remember a thing about it.
He licked his thin lips and pursed them into a tense white line. His usually smiling, deep-set peach-blossom eyes were like sheathed blades, revealing a trace of a cold and startling smile.
So what if they slept together, or if she was a virgin; besides Ruby Shane, he wanted no one else.
His fingertips, reddened as though burned, seemed to feel no pain. Flicking away the cigarette butt, he got up expressionlessly.
