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“Tell me in case you’ve got it wrong.”
There was a beat of silence before Klay spoke. “Darien Cassel.”
“So you’re not as stupid as you look.”
Klay smirked. “I’m sorry, did I miss something? You’re acting like I’ve offended you, and I’ve never even met you before.”
An awkward and tense silence spread through the room. The nurse’s hand faltered and then quickened, as if she couldn’t wait to get out of here. She kept her head down, her focus on the ink.
Loren’s breathing turned shallow as she stared up at Darien, wishing she could see his face, wishing she could see Klay, but he was hidden behind the towering Darkslayer, whose slicked-back hair gleamed in the buzzing fluorescents like liquid night.
Finally, Darien spoke. “Relax, man, I’m just razzing you.” It was still there: the undercurrent of anger. Only this time, it was building, and Loren’s heartrate skyrocketed from the sound of it. “Why don’t we step outside for a second and let the lady finish her job?”
Loren tightened her hold on his soft sleeve. “Darien,” she pleaded.
He turned around. Their eyes locked, and he lifted a hand to her face, gently brushing a strand of wavy hair off her forehead. “It’s okay.”
Was it, though? She didn’t think so. And the look on his face—the deadly one that hinted at black eyes approaching on the horizon—suggested she was right.
She watched helplessly as the love of her life and the newest pain in her ass left the room without her to do gods-knew-what while unsupervised in the hallway. Darien even shut the door behind him, and that was when she realized she had a lot to worry about and a very small chance of stopping it.
—
Darien had already imagined a million ways to kill Klay for grabbing his woman’s hand by the time he stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door to the examination room shut behind him.
They faced each other in the quiet, neither of them saying a word. The only sounds in the area were the distant ticking of a clock and the low drone of landlines ringing with incoming calls.
Darien could feel the fear on Klay’s aura, but while his silence was due to fear, Darien’s was due to contemplation. He was busy deciding whether he would carve out Klay’s heart, strangle him with an IV line, or cut off his head with a surgical saw.
He’d just settled on the surgical saw when Klay opened his idiotic mouth. “I guess you want an apology or someth—”
Darien grabbed him by the front of his shirt collar and slammed him up against the wall. Klay grunted, sounding like he was choking on his own spit, as Darien snarled in his face, “She’s mine. Keep your hands off her or I’ll cut them off.”
Klay was doing his best to hold his hands up in surrender while being pinned to the wall like a hunting trophy. “Ooookay.” He huffed a nervous laugh. “I think we’ve had a bit of a misunderstanding.”
“The only person misunderstanding is you, you handsy prick. That’s my girl, and you’re not allowed to touch her. Got it?”
His mouth formed a daring smirk. “If she’s your girl, then why’d she ask me to come to her appointment instead of you?”
Darien hated that he had no answer to that. And the longer he stared at Klay in silence, gripping his collar tight, the more amused the prick looked. His aura turned smug, the racing in his chest taking on a daring feel instead of a fearful one.
A cocky smile spread across Handsy’s face. “Don’t have an answer, do you?”
“She didn’t want you to hold her hand,” Darien said icily.
“Only because she knew you were watching.”
Darien gripped him tighter, slamming him against the wall. “Mind your tongue or I’ll rip it out and feed it to you.”
Klay’s hands inched upward. Fresh terror shone in his eyes, the smug tint to his aura going right out the window.
Darien pulled him down from the wall roughly, realizing he’d pinned him up so high that his feet had been dangling off the ground, and gave him a hard shove down the hallway.
Before he could face-plant on the vinyl floor, Klay pushed himself up with the heels of his hands. With a glare in Darien’s direction, he regained his equilibrium with his back against the wall, taking a minute to fix his rumpled collar. “You Darkslayers are a temperamental bunch.”
“Hands off or you’re going to regret it.” He could hear Loren thanking the nurse on the other side of the door, her sweet voice getting closer. “Now act happy or I’ll punch your fucking teeth out.”
The door opened, and Loren stepped out. She was wearing sneakers, faded jeans, and…and one of his zip-up hoodies, he realized. Following closely behind her, clipboard in hand, was the nurse, who cast a worried glance at their group.
