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That goddamn biker had made his way back to her while she danced with Raven and Cade. I couldn’t blame him. She was fucking stunning in a room full of women who were all monotonous. But it made my blood run hot and made my neck burn.
I spent most of the night nodding and barely listening to the conversation around me. At some point, my brothers just started ignoring me. Or maybe I ignored them? Who fucking knew? I honed in on my wife flitting around the dance floor with those fucking hips of hers shaking and a smile like she didn’t have a care in the world.
The fact that I wasn’t the only one to notice made the situation worse. But that goddamn biker inserting himself in their dance extravaganza was the cherry on top. It took everything I had not to storm across the room and knock him on his ass—especially when his hand grabbed her ass while they were dancing. I didn’t need to handle it. Raven turned into a goddamn force of nature the second the guy tried to grope Genevieve. I wasn’t sure what was funnier: the tiny blonde with a foul mouth shouting at a biker towering over her or watching Declan step in and go into full dad mode to reprimand the guy on proper dance floor manners.
That last part was fucking gold. And Cole filmed the whole damn thing.
While the dust settled and the Stones sent out another round of drinks to soothe the tense crowd, I watched Genevieve slip out the back door. Not even a minute later, the fucking douchebag with the grabby fucking hands was right behind her.
There was no fucking way I’d leave her to deal with him. Cade had vanished to find his sister, Declan had disappeared down the hallway with Raven, and Genevieve was alone.
Saying nothing to anyone, I followed her outside. The cool weather was a stark contrast to the hot air in the bar while the dim firelight was a shock compared to the bright lights inside. I drew in a deep breath, listening to the way my wolf rumbled its appreciation. I was never good at being trapped in one place. I thrived in the outdoors—not damn near feral like Sam’s wolf. It was more like a little bit claustrophobic. Commitment, sure. Staying in a single place and never moving? No. That shit fucked with my head.
Standing next to a fire, Genevieve was alone and drinking. How much had she had to drink? From what I could tell, she’d had a lot. Genevieve had always been a sip-and-nurse-it kind of drinker. But tonight? Tonight, she’d demolished at least six drinks. That I knew of. It was impressive that she was still standing. Unless she’d built a tolerance to it. That worried me.
It wasn’t a thought I could focus on, however, as I caught sight of the fucking douchebag making his way toward her with two drinks in hand. My wolf’s snarl vibrated in my chest. Yeah, not fucking happening. I stalked straight toward him, cutting him off.
“Let’s you and me have a fucking talk,” I growled and grabbed the front of his shirt, dragging him around the side of the building with me. I tossed his ass into the wall with a satisfying slam. Sure, he was big, but I knew how to use that against him. I had a lot of experience manhandling people who didn’t want to be fucking manhandled.
“Get your fuckin’ hands off me,” he snapped. He tried to push forward, but I shoved him right back, pressing my forearm under his throat. That dangerous growl that vibrated through him only excited me. My wolf answered in kind—angrier and meaner.
“You’re going to stay away from her, you understand me?”
“Please,” he scoffed. “She can do whatever the hell she wants, asshole.”
“She can,” I agreed. But over my dead body would it be with him. Or anyone for that fucking matter. Maybe I kept saying I planned to divorce my wife, but that didn’t mean I fucking wanted to. And I certainly didn’t want to watch her fucking around with anyone, especially some two-bit asshole who couldn’t appreciate her for all she was. I knew guys like him. She was drunk and fucking gorgeous. That made her an easy target. I’d be damned if I let anyone else have her. I pushed harder against his throat, enjoying how he struggled to catch his breath. There was something wickedly satisfying about how his stupid face turned red. “But you go near her again and I’ll fucking break every bone in your goddamn body. Try to put another hand on her and I’ll take your fucking hands from you. Look at her and I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out. Do you hear me?”
With a cut-off airway, I knew the guy couldn’t say shit. Still didn’t stop me from asking. That wide-eyed and panicked expression on his face, as he turned purple, was enough to tell me he got the message. I eased my hold, and he sagged, gasping hard.
“You tell Cole or any other Stone about this,” I threatened, “and I’ll do that all to you anyway, you understand me?”
“Yeah,” he rasped out. My eyes narrowed as I studied him, looking for any signs that the douchebag was lying to me. Lord help him if he was. My tolerance was fucking stretched to its limits. He was fucking lucky I hadn’t broken every bone in his hand just for grabbing Genevieve’s ass.
But it couldn’t go unpunished either. Threats weren’t enough.
Lashing out fast, I grabbed the hand he’d touched my wife with, twisting and snapping until all of his fingers were broken. That scream he let out was fucking satisfying.
“You never should’ve touched my wife.” I patted him on the head and walked away.
Chapter 18
Genevieve
Adeep growl vibrated against my ribcage. He was behind me. I wasn’t dumb. I could hear his steady breathing. Feel the very presence of him just standing there. And that stupid smell. I hugged my cup to my chest, wishing I hadn’t already emptied it. I needed more alcohol. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to deal with how that aroma of tobacco and vanilla clouded the air. It weaved through my already hazy mind, sparking sinful thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking about him—thoughts that heated my body in a way I didn’t want.
“Go away, Killian,” I snarled. I would not turn around. I refused.
And yet, the man stepped so close I could feel the warmth radiating off his body. The liquid heat that slid down my spine did things to me I hadn’t felt in a long time. No more drinking around him ever because all I could think about was how easy it’d be to just lean back into him like old times.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. There was that anger again.
“Standing outside. By a fire. What does it look like I’m doing?” I shot back, matching his tone. He started it. “Or do you not know the outside when you see it?”
Maybe I was being mean.
Probably.
Most definitely.
