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"Axe!" I scream his name and pull on his arm. He looks down at me, and I instantly drop my hand from his arm and take a step back like I've been burned.
Axe's eyes are wild. He looks like a feral thing, and a shiver of fear runs up my spine.
Something deep inside me is trying to reassure me that he'd never hurt me, but that voice is drowned out by my sudden fear. Axe looks completely dangerous, and now I realize I was right to try to keep my distance from him.
He looks like a completely different person with his eyes gleaming in unbridled anger. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that that anger is against the man and not me, but before Axe can say or do anything, I turn on my heels on instinct and run, my only thought to get far away from the man with the manic-looking eyes.
Axe is bad news. I knew it from the beginning, and the way he attacked someone just for trying to dance with me proves it.
I can't believe I let my guard down. I should have known better.
Not only is Axe a player, but he's a dangerous man too. I accused him of being crazy, but I didn't really mean it before.
I do now. He looked totally unhinged back there.
And if I'm the one who makes him like that, then I'm not good for him either.
six
Axe
"Dammit!" I curse as I release the fucker who had his hands on my woman and fling him away from me. Sophie is running from me again. It seems all I manage to do are things that make her run from me.
I chase after her, determined that I'm not going to let her get away this time.
I catch up with her on the street and grab her from behind. She kicks and screams like a madwoman, but I pay no mind to the bystanders staring at us.
I fling her over my shoulder while holding her skirt pressed down against her legs so that she doesn’t flash that pretty ass of hers at anyone as I carry her down the street.
"Put me down!" she screams as she beats on my back. Her little hits are a nuisance at best. They don't really hurt me physically, though the fact that she wants away from me so much scars my heart.
I head toward my hotel. I didn't book a room in the same hotel that she and her friend are staying in. I got one next door—not only because it was a bit more upscale but also because I always keep the Presidential Suite on hold for when I want to use it.
The staff here knows me, too, so no one bats an eyelash when they see me carrying a woman over my shoulder over to my private elevator.
It's not like they're used to seeing me do this. I don't make a habit of flinging women over my shoulder and stalking off with them. In fact, I've never had a woman up to my suite in this hotel before. No, it's just that everyone here knows better than to question me.
When Sophie finally realizes that no one's going to intervene, she finally gives up. It's either that or she tires herself out because she finally slumps in my arms.
I set her down in front of me when the elevator doors close.
I keep my hands firmly on her shoulders as I ask her, "Are you going to behave?"
She stares up at me with a stubborn set her jaw. I start to lift her and fling her over my shoulders again, and that's when she hurries to agree.
"Okay! Okay! Yes, I'll be fine."
She looks down at the floor and bites her lip as her anger gives way to fear again. It cuts me to the quick to see my girl afraid of me. And Jesus, who can blame her? I've been nothing but a caveman since the moment I met her, but dammit, this is what she does to me. I lose all control around her.
I cup her cheeks in my hands and gently tilt her head up until she's looking at me. "Why do you keep running away from me, Sophie?" I ask her the question that's eating me up inside, the pain evident in my voice. I don't even give a fuck. Let her hear it. I can't hide my emotions when it comes to her.
"You're tearing me apart, baby." My voice comes out ragged and pained, but again, I don't care. I'm willing to let her see everything that she does to me.
"You scare me," she whispers.
I huff out a breath and tell her adamantly, "Don't you know I would never ever hurt you? I'd kill anyone who harms a hair on your head." I move my hands back down to grip her shoulders, willing her to understand.
I drop my forehead to hers before I confess, "The thought of another man's hands on you does something terrible to me—much less seeing them on you."
