To Be Devoured

Chapter three

Winter leaned against the sleek black Chevy Impala 67, its polished exterior gleaming faintly under the late afternoon sun.

Her arms crossed over her chest, she shifted her weight impatiently from one leg to the other.

With a sigh, Winter pulled out her phone, the faint reflection of her scowl visible on the screen as she checked the time.

He was late. Of course, he was late. Typical Dimitri.

The breeze picked up, tousling Winter's red hair and bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass and faint gasoline from a nearby maintenance shed.

Two crumpled autumn leaves tumbled through the air, carried by the wind.
They danced in lazy circles, twirling briefly in front of her face before drifting down to settle by her shoes.
Winter watched them absently, her mind spiraling into thoughts she didn't care to entertain.

Why am I even waiting? she thought bitterly. I have better things to do than stand around for that jerk.

Out of nowhere, Winter felt a pair of hands shove her off the Impala with startling force.
She stumbled backward, her boots scraping against the asphalt before she landed hard on the ground.
A sharp sting radiated through her palms as they instinctively broke her fall.

"What the hell?" Winter hissed, wincing as she glanced down at her now scraped hands.

Lifting her gaze, her breath hitched when her eyes locked with Dimitri's.
His icy, light blue eyes burned with irritation, pinning her in place as if she were prey caught in a predator's sight.

Her body froze, a chill running through her despite the warmth of the afternoon.
Every memory of his torment came rushing back like a flood.

Dimitri's expression remained stony, but there was something menacing about the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.
Without a word, he turned his attention away from her and toward the Impala, running his large hand over its hood as if soothing a wounded animal. He dusted it off with deliberate care.

"Don't ever lean against my baby," Dimitri growled, his voice low and rough.
He didn't look at her as he spoke, his attention wholly focused on the car as though it were a sacred relic. "You'll leave a dent."

Winter stared at him, her shock quickly turning to anger.
She pushed herself up, brushing dirt off her jeans with trembling hands.

"So funny with the blatant fat-shaming," Winter bit out, her tone sharp as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
She rolled her eyes, her words laced with venom. "How original."

The memory of what had just happened gnawed at her.
Coming at her from her blind side—it wasn't like he knew, but it didn't matter.
It still felt like a low blow, the kind of move that irked her to no end.
She hadn't even heard him approach, hadn't seen him until it was too late.
That thought alone made her irritation bubble even hotter.

"And you're late," Winter then added sharply, her brown eyes narrowing as they met Dimitri's icy blue gaze.
His eyes were as cold and distant as a frozen lake.

Dimitri didn't look the least bit fazed by the girl's glare.
If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched in what could only be described as a smug grin.
He leaned back against the Impala, crossing his arms in a mirrored stance, as if her words were nothing more than mild entertainment.