Heat sears through me, white-hot rage that pounds at my chest. Jealousy, raw and unrelenting, twists through my gut. I have never felt this way about Rose. Never.
She's grinding up against some idiot who has two left feet, arms draped around his neck, his hands shamelessly gripping her ass.
My ass.
Call me a caveman, but this woman is mine.
Before I can even gather a shred of composure and approach this with any sense of control, he kisses her. And she kisses him back. My chest constricts, my heart beating, and the world collapses into a single, burning pulse of red.
Instinct takes over.
I shove him with a punishing force, dragging Willow to my side. Her surprise flickers for a heartbeat before her eyes ignite with defiance, a spark of annoyance that makes my blood thrum. Stray strands of hair cling to her damp forehead, her skin shimmering from the heat and relentless dancing.
Beautiful brat.
“What the fuck, man?” the idiot shouts at me, eyes bloodshot and wild—far more than alcohol should account for. He takes a step in my direction, but he wobbles unsteadily, nearly losing his balance.
Willow tugs at my arm, but I keep my focus on him.
“You don't get to touch her,” I warn him. A few people have stopped to watch us. If this guy knows what's good for him, he’ll walk away, or my brother will be breaking up a fight tonight.
He turns to her, licking his lips like a fool. “He… your boyfriend?” he stammers.
By the end of this night, she will be.
“Elijah,” she snaps, stepping directly in front of me, her glare as heated as the fire in my chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Stopping you from making a mistake with that prick,” I shoot back, not breaking eye contact.
“That's not your call to make.” She plants her small hands on my chest. “I told you that you don't get to control me. Now leave.”
Behind her, he smirks.
“You've got three seconds to come with me.”
“Or what?” she challenges, chin lifting, defiance threading her tone.
“You’ll find out.”
I feel it. The slight twitch of her fingers against me. She knows I’m not kidding, and part of her likes the thought of what I might do.
The idiot must have a death wish. He grabs her shoulder and pulls her around to face him.
My hands grip her hips before she can stumble on those ridiculous heels, making sure she's steady on her feet before stepping fully in front of her, blocking him from view.
“Touch her again,” I warn. “And you'll be leaving here without teeth.”
I’m ready to haul her over my shoulder; she's had more than three seconds now, and I need her. God, I need her so bad.
“Alright, time to go.”
“You are not—oof,” she gasps as I sweep her up over my shoulder, the weight of her pressing against me. I clamp my hand over the hem of her dress, making sure she doesn't flash anyone.
She smacks at my back, trying to push herself upright, and I jostle her, keeping her right where she is. I’d deal with the attitude properly by spanking her if we weren't in the middle of a packed bar—this isn't the place for that lesson.
“You can have her,” the idiot sneers behind us. “I can find a better pussy with a prettier face.”
My spine locks instantly, every muscle going rigid, and I instantly want to pummel this guy into the ground.
