Tears spring to my eyes and track down my cheeks. I’m so pissed at him and even more pissed that I’m letting him make me cry that I lean forward again to claw his fucking eyes out.
Ryder’s arms grab me around the waist from behind. “Fuck, you’re strong.”
Just as the words leave his mouth, the room fills with tension. People who’ve circled around us part to a demanding presence, and I don’t have to see him to know he’s here.
And furious.
“Killian, man…” Ryder’s voice is pleading but unwavering. “Breathe through it, brother.”
I wrench my head around to find Killian standing behind us, his shoulders bunched so tightly beneath his pale blue dress shirt that it strains the seams. The edges of his jaw are sharp with tension, and his eyes are pinned to his target.
“Oh great, Mr. Wonderful’s here to rescue his girl, huh?” Clifford motions to me with a drunken flip of his wrist. “Take her, dude. Won’t see me puttin’ up a fight.”
“Ryder,” Killian growls. “Get her to the Jeep.”
“No.” I pull free from Ryder’s hold and he releases me. “I’m not leaving you. Let’s go together.”
He doesn’t spare me a glance. “I’ll be there soon, Ax. Just go.”
“Yes, please”—Clifford motions with a dramatic sweep to his front door—“get the fuck out.”
I grab Killian’s forearm, but he rips it from me, and it’s then I notice his hands are shaking.
Ryder must notice it too because he leans in close. “Killian, seriously, don’t do this.”
“He disrespected her.”
“They’re just words, Kill,” I say. “I can take it.”
A flash of sorrow softens his expression, nearly taking my breath away.
“But you shouldn’t have to.” He pushes past Ryder and me and directly into Clifford’s face. “I could destroy you, right here, at your own party, in your own motherfucking living room, but you’re not worth the stain you’d leave on your carpet.”
“Thank God.” Ryder exhales beside me and guides me away and toward the door.
“Whatever, man, just get out.” Clifford tries to sound tough, but his voice wavers.
“We’re gone.” Killian turns to leave, but pauses and turns back. “Eh, I changed my mind.”
Faster than my eyes can track, he throws a punch that knocks Clifford to his back.
The room erupts in gasps, and Killian eyeballs a few stoner guys, inviting them to be next. They sink back into the crowd, and with that, Killian turns, grabs my arm, and drags me out the door.
He’s like a bull as he moves through the party, pushing people who don’t move quickly enough out of his way. Ryder’s on our heels, and when we get to the Jeep, Killian picks me up by the waist and puts me in it. “Where’s your shit?”
“In my car.”
He holds his hand out, and I drop my keys into his palm. “Stay with her.” Ryder nods and Killian pulls my purse from my car, hitting the lock and alarm before stomping back.
He tosses me my purse and keys and mumbles a quick “thanks” to Ryder before climbing into the driver’s side.
I share a quick look of apology with Ry. He smiles too big for my comfort just as Killian pulls away.
*
Killian
I snapped.
I felt the second it happened, and now that it’s done, I can’t pull myself back together again.
By the time I hit the front door of the house, I heard him. He’d called her a bitch, made disgusting comments about her body. What a fucking fool! To think he’d been honored with having the gates of heaven opened to him and he spat on the floor and walked away.
My muscles twitch with the fall of adrenaline. It took every ounce of my training and every sliver of my will to keep from pulverizing that douchebag. I wanted to laugh maniacally in his face and wear his gray matter on my fists like a badge of honor—oh fuck. I need to lay off the Stephen King books.
“Killian, please don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you, but I fucking hate that guy. Promise me you’re done with him.”
“I am. I never want to see him again.”
“Good. I’ll go pick up your car in the morning.
“You don’t have to do that.” She picks at her nails. “I can pick it up myself.”
“Not now, Ax. Don’t do your tough-girl thing with me when I’m barely holding on to the last inch of my patience. I’ll get your fucking car.”
“Fine,” she whispers. “Thank you.” A few seconds pass and she fidgets in her seat. “Did you kiss her?”
I flex my hands on the steering wheel and contemplate lying. “Yes.” I keep my eyes to the road.
“And…how was it?”
“It was…” not you. “Different.”
“Hm.” She shifts in her seat, and I can see in my peripheral vision that she’s looking at me. “Do you like her?”
I make the left into my apartment lot, find a spot, and shut off the car before turning to face her head on. She’s gazing up at me with questioning eyes, so I swallow and confess, “No.”