One idiot in particular is standing too close to my woman.
His hand lifts and brushes against hers, he smirks, his eyes are fixed on her chest the entire time.
I am moving before I realise it, not even registering Arlo and the rest behind me, seething in rage as well.
“I believe you just touched what’s mine.” I growl.
My fist connects with his face. He goes down hard, blood spilling from his nose.
I loom over him. “Get the fuck up.”
He scrambles to his feet, his eyes feral as one hand flies to his nose, blood spilling freely between his fingers.
“Get out of here,” I tell him.
He bolts for the exit, and I follow. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, panic setting in.
I catch sight of a bouncer near the doors, and beside him one of Isaak’s men. Our eyes meet. He gives a brief nod, his hand hovers near his weapon.
I gesture to the man who dared touch what is mine and motion for him to be taken.
Understanding flashes in his eyes. He grabs the boy before he can protest.
“No… don’t touch me—”
I turn and make my way inside.
The music keeps blasting, but the atmosphere has shifted. I suppose not everyone finds violence invigorating, or considers it an improvement to the evening.
Fools, really.
Regardless, people step aside as I move through the room. It is one of the simpler perks of being large, and, more likely, of the display I have just put on.
I look at the table and find it empty now. Only Octavia remains, sipping her drink.
I take the seat beside her, deadly quiet, though inside I am a volcano waiting to erupt.
She continues to sip her drink as if nothing has happened.
She finally looks at me and smirks. “You are, without question, a psycho. A brute. A barbarian, if you will.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
She stands abruptly. “I’m going to dance,” she says, before bolting for the dance floor.
Yeah.
Not happening.
I stand and follow, the crowd parting instinctively as I move.
She is already dancing when I stop behind her, and there is something almost mesmerising about it. She is not drunk, but she is tipsy enough to let go, to move without that usual guard she keeps in place.
Her eyes remain closed as she continues to dance, swaying her arse without a care in the world.
I seize her by the waist and pull her back against me, my cock brushing her as I press close.
I bury my head in the column of her neck and kiss her there at first, softly, then I remember the fucker who dared approach her, who dared touch what is mine. I bite and suck, hard, leaving my mark on her, a claim for anyone watching to see.
