The air in the room soured as Dylan looked down at her, his face twisting into pure hatred. He didn't just look angry, he looked possessed by years of rot he'd been hiding under that "nice guy" skin.
As Anastasia scrambled backward, her palms bleeding from the glass shards, he stalked her, kicking her legs out of the way every time she tried to gain ground.
"Look at you," he spat, his voice dropping into a low, venomous drawl.
"The high-and-mighty princess crawling on the floor like the pathetic little bitch you are. You're such a fucking hypocrite, Stasia. You sit there acting like you're too pure for this, like you're some delicate flower I'm tainting."
