“I’ve got her,” Ted says, his hand tightening on my shoulder. I’m not sure which is more territorial—his tone or the way he is gripping me.
Oh faelords, is he also afflicted with whatever is affecting the mass of fighting males?
I push both of them off as I snap out of my daze.
“I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”
I don’t need a man.
I am capable.
I am enough.
And I am about to go down like a sack of bricks—is my last thought as one of the guys spots me and charges right at me with arms outstretched.
There’s a crazed, wild look about him, like he is going to wrap me in rope and throw me in his basement while calling me things like ‘my pet’ as he strokes my hair and tells me to put the lotion on my skin.
Oh witchtits, he’s not slowing down.
Ted takes a step forward, his meaty fist crashing into the guy’s cheek. The way his face ripples under the blow is almost comical as his eyes roll back before he drops like a sack of apples.
My feet lose the ground as I’m hefted over a broad shoulder. I squirm as a hard bulky muscle digs into my gut.
“What the hell, Tedford,” I yell even as he pushes his way through the throng of onlookers.
He even has the decency to reach up with his other hand to pull my dress down so I’m not flashing anyone. Bouncing with his every step, I watch the distance between me, and a frowning Lawrence expand. He doesn’t follow, but there is a strange gleam in his eye.
Maybe he thinks the Tedinator is my boyfriend.
I’m angry and grateful at the same time, which sends my temperature spiking and confusing feelings spiraling through me.
Or maybe Ted is also under whatever weird spell has captured everyone else.
Is he going to throw me in his basement too? Pull the weird possessive male act on me with over-the-top flattery and gifts?
We emerge from the Poison Apple into a hot, sticky night.
He walks a ways down the street before my feet connect with the ground. I meet Ted’s stormy gaze.
“What the hell kind of power do you have over those guys?” he asks. “You’d think they were drug addicts and you were their only fix.”
Okay, no over the top flattery. In fact, his tone was all accusation. Again.
At least I don’t have to worry about conjuring visions of a white dress and little kids with this big bully.
“I didn’t do anything,” I stomp my foot on the ground, but frustration still radiates through me.
“Of course, you did. Why—why do you have to be—?” With a growl, he rakes a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at me now.
“What?” I put my hands on my hips, wondering how he’ll turn things on me this time. “Why do I have to be so what?”
“So godsdamn likeable? Why do you have to make everyone fall in love with you? It’s. . . irritating.”
My heart flip flops in my chest at his words. Does that mean he likes me? But I irritate him? “That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“Goldie,” someone calls out. David stumbles out of the bar, blood dripping from his nose. His white shirt is stained with blood too, though I couldn’t say if it’s his. He holds the jewelry box out in my direction. “I need your answer. Don’t break my heart, my queen, my precious peach.”
Panic shoots through me like an icy spike.
