“Go to bed, and this time, no crying,” he says. “You’re making my staff miserable with all that whining.”
“I hate you.”
“Oh. Pretty Little Storm, that feeling is very much mutual, reciprocated, and multiplied. Have a miserable night.” He proceeds.
“I hope you choke on your ego and die, Alpha Killian.”
“Stop saying such sweet things to me, Poison. I’ll get turned on.” He winks, closing the door behind him.
Poison.
Little storm
I’m convinced he is doing this to torture me with these pet names, reminding me exactly where I stand in his life.
I hate him, I hate that freaking Dad killer asshole. How did he even manage to compliment and insult me in the same sentence? He called me pretty and proceeded to tell me just how much he hates me.
I crawl onto the bed again, cuddling one of the
