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“I’ll be back,” Oliver hollers, and walks off to a brunette that’s been trying to get his attention since we made our way down.
I leave Hart and head over to the chained off area used as the makeshift fighting ring. When I catch sight of a mess of thick brown hair I do a double take, thinking my eyes are playing tricks on me, but my second glance confirms what I don’t fucking need right now. At least tonight she’s dressed more appropriately in a white shirt and a pair of ripped jeans—or that’s what I think until I see the ripped fabric of her fitted tee, showing off small slivers of her perfectly tanned stomach.
Irritation burns in my gut as I change directions and stalk toward Rylee and Charles. Rylee’s mouth is practically hanging from its hinges as she gawks at the huge crowd around her. If I thought her being at the party last night was bad, this is ten times worse. The atmosphere here can get hostile; it’s the last place she needs to be.
She swivels her head in my direction. At first her eyes widen in surprise, but they soon narrow when she sees the expression on my face.
I grab her by the upper arm and drag her with me until we reach the hallway. When I pivot to face her, I notice Charles has followed. Good. I’ll need him to get her ass out of here.
“You need to leave,” I say, just loud enough for her to hear over the crowd’s screams.
She pulls out of my grasp and crosses her arms over her chest, cocking her hip like a fucking diva or something.
“You seem to say that to me a lot,” she snarks, increasing my irritation. “And I’ll tell you the same thing as last night, I’ll leave when I want to, not when you tell me to.”
“And how did last night work out for you?” I ask, baring my teeth.
Pink tinges her cheeks, and for a moment I think she’s going to relent. Instead, the girl shows her balls and glares at me. “You and Oliver can fuck off. It’ll take more than that to make me bow down in defeat.”
“It’s not safe for you here,” I grit between my teeth.
Reaching out, I grab her wrist, ready to haul her ass out and dump her on the sidewalk. She tries to hide it, but I notice the wince before she can. Guilt hits my stomach like dead weight when I look down and see the bruise around the flesh of her small wrist.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
The light in the hallway is shit, so I lift her arm and examine the purplish-blue marks marring her otherwise flawless skin. Hatred at myself bleeds into my system. Except for a few palm prints on the asses of girls I’ve fucked who like that sort of rough shit, I’ve never left a mark on a girl before. I can beat the shit out of a man without blinking an eye, but the thought of physically hurting a girl, this girl, has bile threatening to come up.
“I’m sorry,” I choke the words out past dry lips. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that last night.”
I lift my eyes and meet hers. She has her head tilted to the side, her gaze curious and no longer filled with animosity.
“It’s no big deal. I bruise easily.”
“Doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t have happened.”
I still have one hand wrapped around her bicep with her wrist resting in my other palm. My thumb traces light circles over the injured skin. I have an instinctive need to lower my head and press a kiss over the mark, like a parent does a child. Only, my thoughts are nowhere near innocent.
“Last night….” I stop to clear my throat and try again. “Oliver took shit too far last night.” Her throat bobs when she swallows. “What he said… about what he saw in the bathroom, that was private and should have never left the walls of that bathroom.”
She dips her head in embarrassment, her entire face turning red. She should never be ashamed of something so natural. Everybody on this side of puberty experiments, whether they admit it or not. And there’s not a damn thing wrong with it.
I let go of her arm and take a step back.
“Will you please consider leaving?” I ask instead of insisting or forcing the issue. I’m no longer in the mood to fight with her.
“I don’t understand why you want me to leave so badly, but if you’re worried it’s not safe, don’t. I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.” She looks over at Charles, who’s silently watching our exchange with an expression I can’t decipher. “I have Pierce with me.”
I release a tired sigh and scrub a hand over the back of my head. I pin Charles with a fierce look. “You stay by her side the entire time. I mean it, Charles. You gotta piss, you hold that shit until you’re both out of here. I’m holding you responsible for her. Got it?”
He steps forward and throws an arm over her shoulders. I don’t know why that pisses me off, but it does. “I’m glued to her side for the duration of the night.”
“Once the fight’s over, you both need to leave. The cops are in the neighborhood tonight, so everyone might need to make a quick getaway. People tend to freak out and trample without regard for others.”
Once I have their word that they’ll leave immediately afterward, I give them both a tight nod. My gaze lingers on Rylee for a second longer, before I spin around and leave them in the hallway. Oliver’s already in the chained off area, looking around the crowd for me, when I step over the chain.
“Where’d you go?” he asks over the deafening noise.
