“I’m not drinking it, if you want it.” He holds out his full glass, and I gladly snatch it from him. The longer I stick around, the more tempting getting fall down drunk seems.
After a long pull, I look around the room again. Where the hell is he? Just when I’m about to give up my stupid search for Beck, my eyes hit the bar and the couple I had overlooked the first sweep through the crowd.
Before I can stop them, the words fly out of my mouth. “What the fuck?” Izzy’s head snaps up and looks over at me before following my eyes across the room. I know when she sees him because her hand reaches out and grabs my arm. I don’t even notice the biting pain of her nails because of the red-hot fury that is pulsing through my body.
How dare he? He acts as if he wants me, but the second things get difficult, he runs. Typical man. And a Heavy’s Slut? He had to pick the regular trash that never seems to leave and is always here, always dressed like a prostitute, and never with the same man.
“That stupid, little fucker. I hope his dick rots off.” There’s no way in hell that I can stop the verbal vomit now. I can hear Axel laughing softly, and all it does is fuel the inferno blazing through my body. I want blood, preferably the hoochie grinding her crotch rot all over his leg, but I’ll settle for his. I want to hurt something, destroy something; I want him to know this is wrong.
It takes me a few more seconds before I can’t stand it any longer, and I shoot out of my chair and stomp across the wooden floor. My heels threaten to snap with the force of my steps. My hands clench at my sides, and my breathing is coming in short bursts. When I get closer, and see how she is shamelessly grinding against his leg, my eyes narrow, and I pick up the speed in my walk.
His hands are holding her loosely by her hips. Those hands I know as well as my own are on her body, against her bare skin where her scrap of a shirt has ridden up during her imitation of a bitch in heat.
In all my life, I have never felt this kind of madness. Not when my father slapped me so hard I couldn’t hear for a week, not when I got dumped for the seventh time when a job opened up under my father, and not even when Brandon ‘filthy ass’ Hunter put his disgusting hands on me.
No, this is a new kind of anger, and deep down, I know the only way to make it feel better is to take out the trash.
When I get close enough to get my hands on this troll, I don’t even have to think. I reach out, take the badly dyed, teased to the roof hair, and pull. With a yelp, her mouth loses its suction against Beck’s lips, and I rip her body off of his.
“You stupid, little slut. What makes you think you can walk into this fine establishment and start rubbing your disgusting, crusty crotch all over a man you do not know? That one, the man whose leg will need a case of bleach now, is not up for your filthy, used, and pathetic shit.” Her nails are making purchase against my wrist, trying, without success, to detach my hand from her hair. “And wash your hair, you nasty bitch.” I push my arm out, and with every single ounce of anger possessing me, I toss her to the side. I don’t even spare her another glance before turning on the man who has me in knots.
“And YOU!” I scream in his face. “You make all these promises. You have me questioning everything I have ever told myself, and second-guessing every single carefully planned path. YOU MAKE ME FEEL, DAMN YOU!” I jam my finger into his rock hard chest, taking another deep breath before continuing. “How could you make me feel, and then just give up?! I knew you would be just like the rest of them.”
I finally stop, drop my hand, and work to catch my breath. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. I take a few more deep breaths, calming myself down slightly before looking back up at his too handsome face. But when I see his smirk, that infuriatingly hot smirk, I’m knocked slightly off balance. When he lunges forward, I jump back with a shriek. That shriek turns into a grunt when he bends, puts his shoulder to my stomach, and before I know what’s happening, throws me over his shoulder.
By the time he puts me in the passenger seat of his truck, buckles my seatbelt, and has the truck speeding down the road, I finally wake the hell up from my shock.
What in the… “You did not just kidnap me?” I yell.
“You’re damn right I did, Wildcat. I’m sick of you ignoring me, running, and fucking hiding. Tonight we’re talking, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.” He turns the radio up, and Papa Roach’s Last Resort blasts through the silence.
Real subtle, Beck.
With no choice but to go along for the ride, I start preparing myself for the showdown that’s to come.