Killian
Two weeks had passed since the snow storm and Lena had asked me to be her date to a work event. The gallery was packed with pretentious assholes pretending to understand art they'd never actually appreciate. I stood in the shadows near the back, nursing a glass of wine I hadn't touched, my eyes tracking Lena as she moved through the crowd.
She was wearing that black dress I'd picked out for her. The one that hugged her curves and made every man in the room look twice. I'd told her she looked beautiful before we left, had fucked her against the bathroom counter to make sure she remembered who she belonged to, but watching her now, laughing with clients, her hand gesturing as she explained some piece of shit painting, I felt that familiar possessiveness coil tight in my chest.
Mine.
She was mine, and everyone here needed to know it.
Lena glanced my way, caught my eye across the room, and smiled. That soft, genuine smile that was only for me. It made something warm settle beneath the possessiveness, something that almost felt like contentment.
Almost.
Then I saw him.
Randall.
Her boss was approaching her with that eager, friendly expression he always wore, and I straightened, every muscle in my body tensing as I watched their interaction. He leaned in close, too close, saying something that made Lena laugh.
And then his hand came up, little too familiar, a little too comfortable and ran down her arms from shoulder to elbow.
A slow, deliberate touch.
The kind of touch that wasn't professional.
The kind of touch that said he wanted more.
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. The wine glass in my hand trembled, and I had to force myself to set it down on a nearby table before I shattered it and drew attention I didn't want. My vision tunneled, focusing solely on where his fingers lingered on her skin, and I felt the rage building like a living thing in my chest.
Lena didn't pull away immediately. She was still laughing, still engaged in whatever bullshit conversation they were having, and when she finally did step back, it was casual. Easy.
Like it didn't matter.
But it mattered to me.
I watched Randall walk away, watched him glance back at her once with an expression that made my blood run hot and violent. There was longing in that look, desire barely concealed behind his professional facade.
He wanted her.
He wanted what was mine.
I moved through the crowd with purpose, positioning myself next to Lena, and slid my arm around her waist, pulling her against me possessively.
"Hey," she said, leaning into me naturally. "I didn't see you come over."
"I've been watching." I kept my voice even, controlled, even though everything inside me was screaming. "Randall seems friendly tonight."
"Randall's always friendly," she said with a shrug. "That's just how he is."
"He touched you."
Lena blinked up at me, confusion crossing her features. "What? When?"
"Just now. Ran his hands down your arms."
"Oh." She laughed, light and dismissive. "Killian, that's just Randall being Randall. He's touchy with everyone. It doesn't mean anything."
It meant everything.
