Page 31 of Diesel

“I’m suggesting you mind your own fucking business before you find out what a threat actually sounds like.”

My kitten had claws.

The room went dead silent. Even Miss Patty looked shocked, her hand frozen on the crystal.

“Ollie,” Gerald said, his voice reasonable. “There’s no need for—”

“There’s every need.” Ollie took a step toward Gerald, his hands clenched into fists. “You’ve been sitting there all night acting like you’re better than everyone else. Looking down at Diesel because his painting doesn’t match yours. Well, guess what. Nobody cares about your perfect gradient, Gerald. Nobody cares that you’ve been coming here for months. You’re still an asshole.”

I grinned like a goddamn idiot. The male was defending me. Didn’t matter I could make Gerald piss himself with a single look. Ollie was ready to throw hands like he was protecting my honor.

My wolf sat up and took notice.

“I am not—”

“You are.” Another step forward. “You’re a pretentious, condescending prick who gets a sick thrill out of making other people feel small. I will not let you treat my boyfriend like trash.”

Boyfriend. Ollie had just claimed me. Motherfuck. I was in love with my pint-sized human.

Gerald’s face had gone red. “Miss Patty, are you going to allow him to speak to me this way?”

“I think everyone should just calm down.” Her voice had lost all its floaty quality. She sounded tired, like she’d suddenly aged ten years. “Let’s all take a breath and—”

“This class isn’t for his kind!” Gerald pointed at me with a shaking finger. “They act like they own this town, when they’re nothing but trash!”

Ollie launched himself at Gerald.

My hand shot out, catching Ollie around the waist before he could make contact. His momentum carried him forward, but I had him secure, lifting him clean off his feet. His legs kicked at empty air, and he twisted in my grip, still trying to get at Gerald.

“Let me go!” Ollie’s voice came out in a snarl. “I’m going to knock his stupid glasses off his stupid face!”

Thank fuck I hadn’t brought a bigger flask. Drunken me would’ve let Ollie unleash himself, which would’ve been the absolutely wrong call.

“You’re not doing anything.” I adjusted my hold, keeping him dangling over my arm while his feet swayed a good six inches off the floor. He weighed nothing. Absolutely nothing. “We’re leaving.”

“Not until I knock his teeth out!”

“Now.”

“I’d kick him in the balls if he had any!”

“Ollie.”

He went rigid, every muscle coiled tight with fury. “Fine. But I’m not done with him. Nobody calls you trash. You’re not trash, Diesel. You’re not.”

“I know.” I headed for the door, carrying Ollie like an angry cat. Behind us, the room had erupted into whispers and shocked gasps. “Everyone have a good night.”

Miss Patty started to say something, but I was already through the beaded curtain, shoving through the front door and out into the parking lot. The evening air hit my face, cleansing my lungs from the incense-thick atmosphere inside.

“Put me down.” Ollie was still tense in my grip, his voice tight.

“You gonna try to go back in there?”

“Maybe.”

“Then no.”

“Diesel.”