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“You still have Lena,” York says gently, almost too quietly for me to hear.
My eyes snatch up, then narrow. “Leave her the fuck out of this!”
“Enough!” Dax shouts, and in two steps he’s hauled me up into his arms, across his chest, and is striding across the car park towards the Bentley. Before I’m even able to blink he has me pinned between his chest and the car and is yanking open the passenger door. His hips are pressed against mine and his muscular thigh is shoved up against my crotch, pressing against my clit. I stiffen beneath him, willing him not to move and light up my body like a damn firework.
“I’m not a fucking rag doll that you can pick up and toss around at whim,” I complain, my fingers curling into the material of his shirt to hold myself steady. His warm breath caresses my skin and he shifts slightly, the movement of his thigh hitting that spot I really fucking wished it wouldn’t.
He scoffs. “No? Seems to me you’re okay with being treated like a toy. Get in.”
“Atoy—?”Motherfucker.
“Get. In. Pen.”
“I would if you’d actually let me go!”
Dax removes his thigh from between my legs and steps back just enough so I can squeeze out of his hold and get into the car. “Fucking finally!” he cries, slamming the door behind me.
A few seconds later, Dax is in the driver’s seat and leaning over me. I press my body back into the chair, and turn my face away from him. He kind of tenses up at my reaction.
“Seatbelt,” he snaps by way of explanation.
“I can do it myself,” I whisper, but he makes a snorting sound and yanks at my seatbelt, clicking it in place before slamming back into his own seat. Anger radiates from him, making me tense up. He hasn’t calmed down at all, and there’s too much between us for me to even try to soothe him, let alone want to. I saved his life tonight. That’s enough. “Where are we going?”
Dax doesn’t reply, he simply jabs his finger on the button that locks the doors just as York tries the handle.
“What are you—” I begin, looking at the rage on York’s face as he leans down and glares at us through the glass. He slaps his palm against the window, his icy-blue eyes sharp, unyielding. I jump.
“What the fuck, Dax? Open the fucking door!” York yells, slamming his fist on the roof of the car.
“Find your own way back, dickhead!” Dax jabs his finger on the button to start the ignition, puts the car in first then slams his foot on the gas. We fly out of the car park, grit, dust, and dirt churning up the air behind us. I twist in my seat, York is holding up his middle finger and even though I can’t hear what he’s saying, I know a string of expletives are flying out of his mouth.
“York looks pissed,” I remark, turning back around, my fingers digging into the plush leather seats as we speed through the gates exiting the compound.
“I don’t give two fucks,” he snarls. “Motherfucker overstepped. I’m done with the bullshit.”
“The bullshit?” I query, wondering what that’s supposed to mean.
“Yeah. I’m fucking done.”
“Me too,” I mutter. “Me too.”
Half an hour of silence later, we draw up outside the Academy. With the engine still running, Dax presses his finger on the button to unlock the car doors.
“Home sweet home,” he states, staring ahead, the glow from the streetlamp highlighting his features in stark, artificial light.
His jaw is the edge of a knife blade, and the muscle that ticks along it, a time bomb ready to go off. He might be dangerously handsome, but right now he’s just dangerous. Any minute now, he’s going to explode and a large part of me wants to provoke him, just to see what happens. The other part just wants to head inside, take a sleeping pill, and curl up into a ball where the events of tonight can be put aside for a few precious hours. The whole journey back he spoke not one word to me, just stared ahead and drove. Whatever he felt before at Grim’s club when he stepped in and protected me from Malik Brov seems to have been forgotten. Right now he’s back to hating me again.
“Why are we here?” I ask, unable to help myself. This is the last place I expected Dax to bring me. Jeb had plans for me tonight that started with rape and likely ended in something just as horrific. I doubt very much dropping me back home is what Jeb had intended for me.
“Because youlivehere.”
“Yes, but why am I here tonight?”
“Zayn told me to take you home. I’ve done that. Now get out of the car, Pen. Go home,” Dax orders.
“Yes, but Zayn isn’t the one who asked me to bring an overnight bag, Jeb did, and Zayn isn’t the one who ord—” I slam my mouth shut before I’m able to finish my sentence.
He snatches his eyes up to meet mine and they flare in anger before he twists in his seat and reaches for something behind him. “Here. One overnight bag delivered,” he says, before shoving it into my arms.
