Page 55 of Outcast’s Vow

“That’s enough, Joao.”

No, no, no.

“Touch her there and I’ll remove your head from your neck.”

“What?”

Joao splutters. He’s lost his composure at the sudden intrusion.

We both turn to the chalet door. Baptiste is standing there.

My husband’s been out skiing all morning, and now he’s back. Snow melts down his jacket. He rips off his gloves and lets his fingers curl into fists. The open door lets all the biting cold air gush in. And his eyes burn with a deep, violent fury as he meets the sight before him.

He is like a storm. A tornado that has burst through the door.

And Joao is nothing but a twig about to be blown away.

“Back off,” my husband roars at the Brazilian. “Right now, or you won’t see another sunrise. She’s mine. My wife.”

The way he says it. A vow and a threat rolled into one.

And his protective viciousness ignites a spark within my depths.

Meanwhile, Joao’s hands fly off my thighs faster than lightning.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m really sorry.”

His honeyed voice is honeyed no longer. He’s visibly shaking at this six-foot-something giant of a man raging with fire and muscle, glaring at him with violence ready to release.

“Don’t hurt him,” I plead with my husband, knowing full well what he is capable of.

Baptiste turns from me back to Joao, my words restraining him just enough not to unleash hell.

And he says one word. One word laced with pure unbridled menace, directed at Joao.

“Out.”

The yoga instructor is out the door fast. He understood the assignment. He understood that one more second, and Baptiste’s threats would’ve become very real. And now my husband turns to me in a fury that swiftly changes direction from Brazilian to wife.

As for me? I am both afraid and relieved.

And, as evidenced by the quickening of my pulse, I am admittedly aroused by this man and his protective fury.

But Baptiste’s look at me is pure steel.

“You and I,” he snarls. “We need to talk.”

22

BAPTISTE

“You can’t just come storming in here and...”

I interrupt my wife’s protestations.

“If another man flirts with you like that again, I’ll kill him. In front of you, if need be.”

Sylvie scoffs at that. She scoffs at my hand. I can’t believe it. She’s talking back after I’ve just burst into this chalet to see her with that yoga motherfucker? With his hands on her body? It’s taking everything in my willpower not to turn around, march down the road, and crush that man’s skull as he scrambles away from my wrath.