Noah’s eyes never leave mine as he approaches, and I’m in deep, deep trouble.
I stumble back, nearly tripping, but the man steadies me.
“This should be interesting,” he murmurs.
Noah stops in front of us with his chest heaving and jaw clenched while anger radiates off him like heat from a furnace.
“Get your hands off her,” Noah says, his face stoney and vicious.
“Yeah? Why would I do that?” The man holding me smirks, clearly enjoying this.
“Masters,” Noah grits out, “let her go. Now.”
“I don’t think so.” His tone drips with amusement. “She’s here. She knows. And no one can know. You know the rules.”
“She’s with me.” Noah’s voice carries an unmistakable threat. “Let go of her arm.”
Noah steps forward, pausing inches from me, nearly sandwiching me between two hulking men. It’s like something out of the raunchy books I download to my Kindle, but the guy behind me gives me the serious creeps.
And the man in front? He scares me. Not just his physical presence, but the thought of him yelling at me. For good reason. Being reprimanded by him would shift the already messy balance of our relationship.
“Dante, stop fucking with him. He’s about to have a coronary,” George says quietly from Noah’s side.
Dante, who is apparently also called Masters, stays silent, locked in a staring contest with Noah.
“It’s the last fucking time I’m telling you to let her go.” Noah’s voice drops to something barely human.
A dark chuckle from somewhere above my head makes my skin crawl, and then my arm is free, but only for a moment because Noah’s hand replaces Dante’s grip.
“Keep your little friend away from the ring, King. You know what could have happened if someone else sniffed her out in the heat of the moment.”
Noah gives Dante a short nod and starts dragging me away from the crowd.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I’ve never seen him this mad.
“I-I…” My voice cracks as I scramble for an excuse. “I was just?—”
“Following me?” he snaps, cutting me off. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I was worried!” I blurt, stepping back. “You were sneaking off, acting all mysterious, and I thought?—”
“You thought what?” He towers over me. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened here?”
“I didn’t mean to distract you,” I whisper, drowning under a pile of guilt. “I was just trying to help. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
He lets out an angry laugh. “You think I’m worried about getting hurt?” He leans closer. “Do you have any idea what could have happenedto you?” He jabs a finger behind me. “Do you have any idea who some of these people are? What if someone else had found you first?”
His body radiates heat, anger, and barely restrained power. It’s overwhelming. And, embarrassingly, it’s arousing. Why is my brain wired this way?
“You could have gotten really hurt, Bea.” He leans even closer. “Do you fucking understand that?”
Swallowing hard, I nod. Shutting my mouth feels like the smartest move for once. I don’t know these people, but I’m starting to grasp what could’ve happened to me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. I don’t think my sorries cut it, so I decide to add bits of truth. “I was jealous. I wanted to see what sort of sex club you attend.”
His eyes widen as he stares at me without blinking. “And what? What would you have done?”
“I would have joined it,” I whisper shamefully.
