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The sound of Don’s frantic voice, followed by the sinking of the mattress as he climbs out of bed, wakes me. I blearily watch as he uses his shoulder to hold his phone to his ear while shoving his legs into his pants.
He stops with his jeans around his knees. “Are you okay?” His deadly tone, along with the late hour of Dara’s call, alerts me to the seriousness of the situation, and I sit up and try to listen to whatever Dara is saying to him.
“Stay inside your apartment. Lock your door. I’m on my way.”
I’m already kicking back the covers and scrambling to find clothes when Don hangs up the call, snarling like a rabid beast as he throws his phone down on the bed.
“Is Dara okay?” I ask, watching him closely. I can practically feel the anger radiating off him.
“Some asshole tried to rape her at a club tonight.”
I gasp before repeating more urgently, “Is she okay?”
He grits his teeth, glaring at the bed as though it’s the offender and he wants to strangle the life out of it. The muscles flex in his neck, and I can see his arms shaking with the effort to restrain himself.
With what looks like it takes Herculean effort, he lifts his head to look at me. “She’s fine. She’s back at her apartment.”
Despite knowing his anger isn’t aimed at me, I take a step back, momentarily afraid of the look of pure death on his face and not even properly taking in what he’s said.
He flinches when he notices my reaction. “I’m sorry,” he hisses, chagrined, as he looks away. “I’m not angry at you.”
“I’m sorry, I know. It just scared me.”
My words only seem to bother him more, and he turns his back on me. I watch cautiously as he rolls his shoulders and stretches out the muscles. He finishes getting dressed, buckling his jeans and throwing on a discarded top, before slowly turning back around. He still looks furious, but he has managed to tame it somewhat.
With slow, sure steps, he walks around the bed toward me, taking his time and watching me closely to see how I react. I’m not afraid of him, however. Maybe I should be—a man I barely know, capable of doing who knows what to me when he’s this worked up and on edge—but I’m not.
When he’s close enough, he reaches out and cups my cheek with his. “You have nothing to apologize for. The one who is sorry is me. I didn’t mean to scare you and I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not,” I assure him, placing my hand over his on my cheek. “You just took me by surprise, is all.” I glance down, unable to look him in the eyes. “When my father was that angry, it usually meant bad things for me. For a second…”
I trail off, and he moves his hand to my jaw, tilting my head up in a clear indication for me to look at him.
While still shrouded in shadows and looking as ominous as ever, I feel the truth in his words when he says, “I am not your father. I will never lay a hand on you or encourage you to harm yourself. Nor will I tolerate anyone who does. If so much as a finger is laid on you without your consent, the perpetrator will face a fate worse than death. Do you understand me?”
“I do.”
He smiles for the first time since he answered Dara’s call, even if it is small and fleeting. “Good. Now get dressed, I need to go see my sister and I’m not leaving you behind.”
“Dara has been nothing but kind to me. I want to make sure she’s okay, too.”
That seems to please him, as he kisses me fondly, before leaving me to get dressed.
Don must break every speed limit, because we arrive at Dara’s apartment in no time at all. His grip on my hand borders on painful as he stalks into the building, pressing the button for the elevator harder than necessary. His foot taps against the carpet the entire ride up to Dara’s floor, and when he reaches her door, he knocks loud enough to wake up everyone on this side of the building.
I hear the sound of several locks being undone before Dara’s face appears at the door. Seeing that it’s her brother, she hurriedly pulls the door open and ushers us in.
Finally letting go of my hand, Don turns to get a good look at her. Dara’s makeup is smeared, and her dress is rumpled and torn, nonetheless a similar fire to Don’s burns in her eyes.
“What happened?” Don barks once he’s assessed his sister for any serious injury.
Huffing, she doesn’t immediately answer as she barges past him, and we follow her into her apartment. It opens up to a small yet cozy living room. Dara practically collapses into one of the chairs, grabbing a very full glass of wine from the coffee table.
Don stalks over to her, sitting down on the coffee table so he’s directly facing her, and patiently waits her out. Meanwhile, I creep over to the sofa, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to get in the middle of the two siblings.
Dara takes a long sip from her glass, glaring at her brother over the rim before sighing. “I was at a club with a few friends. There was this hottie at the bar and he asked me to dance with him. I figured why not, and after a couple of dances, he asked if I wanted to go somewhere more private.” I notice Don’s shoulders tense, although he doesn’t say anything. “We went outside, and that’s when he started getting a bit rough. Usually, I’m into that, but I started to get a bad feeling, and when I said no, he didn’t stop. I tried to push him off me, but he just kept grabbing at me.”
She stares into her wine glass for a long moment, and I get the impression she’s trying not to cry in front of her brother. “He said I was a tease. That I’d been leading him on all night, and I couldn’t back out now just because I’d changed my mind.”
