"I'll rip your fucking throat out." I growl, my voice barely human.
Fear flashes in his eyes—genuine now, the alcohol buzz evaporating in the face of imminent death. I drag him toward the back door, one hand still crushing his windpipe. The bouncer takes one look at my face and steps aside. Smart man.
In the alley behind the bar, I slam him against the brick wall. His head cracks against it with a satisfying thud.
"You've been terrorizing her for three years," I snarl, inches from his face. "That ends tonight."
"Fuck you," he gasps, still defiant despite the terror in his eyes. "She's mine. Always has been."
Something snaps inside me. The control I've honed over years in the ring disintegrates. My fist connects with his jaw, the satisfying crunch of bone vibrating up my arm. Then his ribs. His stomach. I'm methodical in my destruction, using every technique I've learned to cause maximum pain without killing him. Yet.
"You forced your filthy lips on her?" I growl between blows. "Stalked her? Made her afraid to live her life?"
He's slumped against the wall now, blood streaming from his nose, one eye already swelling shut.
"She's mine now," I tell him, gripping his hair to force him to look at me. "And if you ever—EVER—contact her again, look at her, even think about her, I will end you. Slowly. Painfully. They'll find pieces of you scattered across three counties."
I slam his head back against the wall once more for emphasis. "Nod if you understand me."
He nods frantically, blood and saliva dripping from his split lips.
"Good." I release him and he crumples to the ground, whimpering. "One more thing." I crouch beside him, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I know where you live. Where you work. I know your patterns. I'll be watching. And if you go to the cops, if you try to retaliate—I'll find you. And next time, I won't stop."
I stand, looking down at the broken man at my feet. Pathetic. This is what she feared for years? This cowering, bleeding heap of nothing?
"Forget she exists," I tell him as I walk away. "Or I'll make you wish you'd never been born."
The drive back to my place is a blur. Adrenaline still courses through my system, my knuckles raw and bloody. But beneath the violence, there's satisfaction. The threat is neutralized. My woman is safe.
My woman.
She's awake when I get home, sitting on the couch in one of my t-shirts that hangs to mid-thigh on her small frame. Her eyes widen when she sees my hands.
"Ryker! What happened?" She rushes to me, gently taking my bloody knuckles in her small hands.
"I found Danny," I say simply. No point lying.
She goes still, her eyes locked on my damaged hands. "You...what did you do?"
"What I had to." I cup her face, forcing her to look at me. "He won't bother you again. Ever."
"Did you...?" She can't finish the question.
"No. But he knows what will happen if he comes near you again." I search her face for fear, for disgust at what I've done. Find none. "He told me about the kiss."
Her breath catches, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh God..."
"Said he had his tongue down your throat." The words taste like poison. "I nearly killed him for that alone."
She surprises me then. Instead of pulling away, instead of being horrified by my violence, she presses closer, her hands gripping my shirt.
"He lied," she says fiercely. "It was nothing like that. He smashed his closed mouth against mine for maybe three seconds before I shoved him away. That was it. I swear, Ryker. I'm yours alone—virgin until you. Even my mouth."
The possessive beast inside me roars in satisfaction.Mine.Untouched until me. My hands move to her waist, gripping hard.
"Say that again," I demand, voice dropping to a growl.
"I'm yours alone," she repeats, eyes locked on mine. "Virgin until you. No one else has ever touched me the way you do. No one else ever will."
