Except. I still couldn’t identify the language, and it almost had a barking, growling quality. What on earth were they speaking?
Peering from behind a parked car, I watched in horrified fascination. D-Bag’s second hand joined the first, and he shook Gym Bro so hard I swore I heard teeth rattling. A harsh, guttural sentence followed. Gym Bro’s feet tried to find purchase, undoubtedly to pull himself from D-Bag’s grasp.
What was D-Bag going to do to Gym Bro? Kill him? I swallowed against bile rising in the back of my throat. I may have questioned his taste in clothing, but Gym Bro didn’t deserve to die like that. Could I sit here and do nothing? Fuck it. I was already losing everything—what was one more bad decision?
Against my better judgment, and cursing the life choices that brought me here, I stepped from behind the car and yelled at the two men.
“What are you doing? Let that man go,” I demanded.
In an almost comical fashion, both men’s heads swiveled to stare at me. Or at least I assumed D-Bag was staring at me. His head faced my direction at least. Gym Bro’s eyes widened at the sight of me. Thankful for my intervention, no doubt.
“This does not concern you,” D-Bag said. His low, melodious voice rolled over me, igniting a spark in my nether regions. What the fuck? Though seen directly, even beneath the hat and sunglasses, I could tell he was hot. His chiseled face had cheekbones that could cut glass above a perfect, squared-off jaw. The lighting, however, made his skin appear somehow both dark and shining. Either that, or I was much more intoxicated than I’d thought.
“Please help me,” Gym Bro pleaded, attempting to wiggle free from D-Bag’s iron hold. Gym Bro was as muscled as D-Bag, all flat planes and sharp edges. But much hairier. His lush, dark hair stopped just above his broad shoulders, and his sideburns joined his unkempt beard. Combined with the growling nature of his voice, my mind thought of the paranormal romance books I read to pass the time. Strong werewolf vibes, for sure.
“Let that man go,” I repeated, though with less intensity than before. My inebriated brain ordered my legs to walk toward the two men. The reasonable side of my mind screamed at me to stop and run away.
“This does not concern you,” D-Bag repeated.
“He is going to kill me,” Gym Bro barked out.
Well, shit. D-Bag wasn’t funny anymore. Now I was involved—did that mean I’d die, too?
D-Bag said something in the language I’d heard before.
“Is he right? Are you going to k- hurt him?” I asked, pointing at Gym Bro, unable to say the wordkill.
“This does not concern you,” D-Bag repeated a third time. “Please leave.”
Despite the politeness and melodious tone still somehow waking up my nether regions, his insistence irritated me. “No.” I stomped over to him, thankful I’d worn Converse instead of sky-high heels with my party dress. Although I still had to adjust the straps of my bra before my bodice top shifted further and my girls popped out.
I stopped a mere step from the men in their angry embrace and looked up at them both. These two men towered over my 5’6” height and outweighed my 120 pounds by at least 200. My heartbeat stuttered in my chest as I again questioned my life choices.
Up close, D-Bag’s shiny skin distracted me from my mission to save Gym Bro. I lifted a hand as if to stroke his face and paused, my hand frozen in midair as he spoke in that language I didn’t recognize.
Multiple things occurred in what felt like slow motion after D-Bag finished his barked sentence.
D-Bag reached his right hand toward me.
I flinched backward, stumbling from the restriction of movement in my tight dress.
Gym Bro grabbed D-Bag’s left hand and ripped it from his collar, freeing himself.
D-Bag stood unmoving, his head shifting from Gym Bro to me, before looking down at an object he held in his hand. He pushed the center of the silver-dollar-sized disc, flipped it between our trio, and shot his hands out.
One hand grabbed Gym Bro’s upper forearm, eliciting a snarl from the man.
D-Bag’s other hand constrained me, his palm covering my shoulder in a viselike grip.
I had time to yell—“Hey, what the fuck!”—then the world flickered before my eyes and blackness overtook me.
Chapter Two
Cold air flowedaround my exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise across my body. Attempting to wrap my hands around myself for warmth alerted me to the fact that I couldn’t move my arms.
“What the fuck,” I mumbled before tilting my head.
“What the fuck?” I repeated, louder and more insistent. Glowing rings at my wrists held my arms in place above my head. Flush against my skin, their smoothness amplified the chill in the air. Yanking did nothing. Looking down, I saw that similar glowing rings at my bare ankles held my legs spread. Not uncomfortably so, though enough that the cold air found every inch of skin my minidress didn’t cover. Worse, my stomach churned in response to my inability to close my legs and reduce my intimate exposure. I was trapped, every inch of exposed skin shivering.
