“You ready for Paul?” the announcer bellowed, and the crowd practically exploded, screaming and chanting, begging for blood.
Dizziness overcame me. I staggered sideways and would have fallen if Liv hadn’t suddenly been there to catch me.
“I got ya,” she cooed into my ear, her tone full of dangerous intent.
“I ... need to go,” I mumbled, and tried to pull away.
“No, I think you need to see this,” she said, her grip on me tightening. “In fact, I insist you see this. Because, sweet thing, this is exactly what’s going to happen to you.”
I don’t know why I didn’t try to fight her. Why I didn’t scream and thrash, bite, claw, whatever it took to get free of her. Maybe my fear had grown so great, overwhelming me with it, that I simply couldn’t move, couldn’t find the strength to do any more than stare as a man emerged from the crowd. He looked terrified, sweat pouring down his face as he was shoved forward by two men dressed in what looked like mismatched military gear.
“No,” I whispered. “No, he ...”
“E can’t protect you from me,” Liv said darkly, then she leaned closer and sucked my earlobe into her mouth. “No one can. And I always get what I want.”
The feel of her, touching me so intimately while holding me so cruelly with her nails digging into my skin, it wasn’t just fear it spawned in me, it was overwhelming repulsion.
Laughing, Liv placed a soft kiss against my throat and released me.
I spun around, ready to run, ready to battle this entire crowd if I had to in order to escape from this madwoman, but as I turned, Liv was there too. Grinning widely, she snapped her teeth at me, and then without warning, she sent her fist flying straight into my face.
My vision clouded as I stumbled backward. Someone shoved me and then another, and then like some cruel game, I was shoved back and forth, pinging in one direction and then another. Hands grabbed at me, some groping me, taking handfuls of my breasts and my backside, while the uproarious laughter and jeering continued all around me.
I couldn’t seem to maintain my balance. Either she’d punched me hard enough to jar me, or the crowd simply wouldn’t leave me alone, let me regain my footing. In any event, I was precariously close to falling over entirely and being trampled to death.
“Eagle!” I screamed.
I shouted at the top of my lungs while slapping at the hands grabbing for me. I couldn’t see a thing, not past the waterfall of tears pouring down my cheeks. It was all a blur of color and smells, none of them welcoming or familiar.
I screamed again and again, only to be met with more laughter, more shoving. Someone else was shouting now too, a masculine scream, probably Paul.
“Eagle!” I continued to shriek, swaying heavily on my feet. “Eagle!”
The fear was so great, and too heavy a burden to bear for even another second. I stopped screaming and let my body collapse, uncaring of the foot that lashed out at my back, or the next that struck my ribs. They would trample me eventually, but at least I’d be free.
“Jesus Christ, Squirrel!”
My eyes snapped open and my head shot up. Through the blur of faces above me, I focused only on one, on its hard lines and angles. On eyes as black as midnight.
Bending down, Eagle lifted me off the ground and brought me tight against his body. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face into his jacket, inhaling his scent, the familiar and safe smell of him. I could feel him moving but I refused to look up, to see the faces of the people cheering for Paul’s death. Hatred anew washed over me, for these people and this place, and everything they stood for.
Eagle carried me until we were free from the noise, until the only sound I could hear was the gentle hum of insects and his own heavy breathing. He set me down in a thick patch of grass and looked me over.
“What the fuck were you doing there?” he demanded. Reaching out, he grabbed my arm and brought it forward to inspect it. Bloody half moons had been cut into my skin from Liv’s hold on me.
Eagle’s gaze lifted, meeting mine. “What did she do?”
It was a simple question, but nothing was ever simple with this man. His tone might have been even, but his expression was anything but. His already dark eyes grew impossibly darker as a muscle jumped in his jaw.
But I couldn’t answer him; I couldn’t speak. I was too overcome, both with what had happened and now this, how he’d saved me yet again.
“You left me,” I eventually croaked as the peace and comfort I’d found in his arms receded, only to be replaced with the urge to run and hide.
Who was I kidding? I couldn’t stay here—not even with him. He couldn’t be with me at all times, and when he wasn’t, I was a sitting duck, exposed to all sorts of predators.
Because, sweet thing, this is exactly what’s going to happen to you.
Chapter Twenty-Three
