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Gasps ring out around us. All of the patrons who couldn’t be bothered to pay attention when I was being assaulted are now riveted by the scene unfolding in front of them, but I can’t think about them now. I watch in horror as the hands that were just digging into my flesh clutch Dominic’s forearm, staging a rather flimsy attempt at breaking his hold.
“Dominic! Stop. Let him go.”
His heavy gaze finds mine, and I falter. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see, but it isn’t this. A deathly calm. Every muscle in his face is still, except for his lips which are curled into a snarl, like a rabid animal who’s just been interrupted in the middle of its meal. When no other words come from my lips, he turns his attention back to the man in front of him.
“What she is”—he says brusquely—“is someone you will never touch again. In fact, you won’t even think about what it was like to touch her. If you do, I’ll find you and I will fucking end you.”
And with nothing more than a flick of his wrist, Dominic releases the man, letting him fall to the ground in a wheezing heap. He turns around and his eyes are pools of molten darkness and heat. Almost like he’s mad at…me?
I swallow. That can’t be right. Even he isn’t asshole enough to blame me for the actions of a drunk. Somewhere in my mind, I know that to be true, but I’m struggling to make sense of the events of the last few minutes. The man grabbing me. The scrape of his teeth on my neck, his fingers digging into my flesh. Dominic coming out of nowhere. The relief I felt at seeing him.
And the rage.
His rage and the way it coated the words he said to the man. Words that dripped with a pure animal urge to protect, to defend what was his. Except I’m not his. Dominic takes a step towards me, and my instincts tell me to take two steps back, shrinking away from the dangerous look that’s spearing me.
“Alright folks, that’s enough. Break it up or I’m going to have to call the cops.”
A burly white man with red hair breaks through the crowd. He’s wearing a black shirt with the club’s logo embroidered on the sleeve and is holding a walky-talky in his hand. A security guard. Of course, they would come when everything is over.
He ambles over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. Dominic glowers at him, and he removes it. “Anybody want to tell me what happened here?”
Dominic speaks first. “What happened here is you’ve got paying customers on the floor doing your job while you’re sitting on your ass letting predators run loose!”
Holy fuck, is he angry. It’s more evident now. In the slant of his brows, the flare of his nostrils, and the heat in his eyes that’s charring everything his glare touches. And right now it’s focused solely on the security guard whose skin is now as red as his hair.
“None of my guys saw anyone doing anything predatory.” He spits the last word out like it’s an affront to his character to even say it. “They did see you punching another paying customer not once, but twice, and then choking him half to death though.”
A dark, sarcastic smile tilts Dominic’s lips. He takes two steps toward the guard, moving over the heaving man on the floor and looking like committing another act of violence in such a short time frame would mean nothing to him.“Are you—”
I step forward, putting myself between the two men. “Dominic, please don’t.”
My hand is on his chest, but I’m not fool enough to think I could stop him if he made a move for the guard. Slowly, as if he isn’t sure he actually wants to, Dominic looks down at me. The muscle in his jaw is ticking again.
“I’d listen to your girl if I were you, pal.” The guard laughs, bending down to help my groper up off of the floor. “If you’re not out of here in five minutes, you’re going to be spending the night in the drunk tank. Might even find yourself facing a drunk and disorderly conduct charge.”
“You’re really not helping, sir,” I say sternly, resisting the urge to tell him to shut the hell up. I mean who thinks it’s a good idea to antagonize a man who’s just left another gasping for air? “Dominic, let’s just get Mal and go.”
With one last withering look at the security guard, Dominic nods his head then turns to walk away. It isn’t until I’m running to keep up with his long strides that I realize he’s holding my hand. His palm is rough and warm, and his fingers cradle mine in a grip that’s firm but gentle.
“Stop. You don’t need to…” I fight against his hold, barely slowing our progress as he parts the crowd with the sheer force of his will.
He glances back at me, disbelief marring his features. “Do you want me to go to jail, Sloane? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if I let you go and another fucking person in this shit hole touches you tonight.”
“What? I—”
Words fail me. Disbelief and alcohol have made my brain sluggish, and Dominic uses my delayed processing skills to his advantage, tightening his grip on my limp hand and barreling back towards the booth where Mal and Chase are still sitting.
Her mouth drops when she sees us, and I can only imagine what we must look like. Me, shell-shocked and disbelieving, being dragged around by Dominic who looks no worse for wear after his physical exertions, but still has murder in his eyes.
“Sloane, what’s going on?” She shrieks, attempting to stand.
Dominic gestures for her to sit back down. He’s still holding my hand, using his free one to grab my clutch from the table. “We don’t have time to go over all the minute details, Mallory. We have to go.”
I grab my purse from Dominic and glance at Mal, who’s looking more confused by the second. “Some drunk guy got a little handsy with me when I was heading to the bar. Dominic saw and—” Six eyes land on me, watching me struggle to find the right word for what my supposed enemy did for me. Turns out, there’s only one. “—saved me. But things got a little violent, so we’ve been asked to leave.”
“Oh, shit. I guess that means…” Chase trails off awkwardly, standing to free Mal, who is scrambling out of the booth.
I can’t believe he’s leaving an opening for Mal to invite him back to her place after hearing her sister-in-law just got groped. And from the look of disgust on Dominic’s face, he can’t believe it either. I’m increasingly aware of his skin on mine. He’s applying steady pressure to my wrist. Like he doesn’t want me to forget for one second that his hand is there.
