Page 17 of Bound in Promise
“Fuck you,” I snap. I’m not a fucking toy for Liam to loan out. This dude has some balls, thinking he can just toss some cash around to get to my pussy. “I’m not for sale, asshole.”
“That’s up to your man.”
I cut my eyes towards Liam, and if looks could kill…
If he so much as nods, winks, or twitches to give this douchebag the green light to touch me, I’ll make sure to put a bullet in his damn head the first chance I get.
Liam stares back at me, giving nothing away. He’s an entitled prick, so I’m counting on his greed. The idea of sharing anything is a foreign concept for people like him.
“Make it three,” Liam states, clear as fucking day, “and you got a deal.”
“Done.” The dude leans forward and snatches my wrist, yanking me forward.
I dig my heels into the ground and yank back, twisting my arm left and right to try and loosen his grip.
“Fuck off, asshole,” I shout, wrestling with him, determined to escape.
“C’mon, baby,” he taunts, reeling me closer. Still holding my wrist, he traps my other arm between us and uses his free hand to grip my hip. “You be nice to me and maybe I’ll be nice to you.” His words are accompanied by a stomach-turning grind of his dick against me.
Quickly, I pull my knee into his junk, making him hunch over. His fingers keep their punishing grip on my wrist, but at least there’s now some space between our bodies.
“Damn, feisty, aren’t you?” The words lose a bit of their menacing impact when gasped out between shallow breaths.
I struggle to catch my own breath, looking for a way out. I can’t see my opponent clearly and I’m struggling to think, too scared and wound up to concentrate on my surroundings. “Get the hell away from me, douchebag. I’m not?—”
“For three grand you sure as fuck are,” he retorts, straightening and lunging forward to grab me. He looks ready to throw me over his shoulder and I pull back on my arm, making myself as difficult a target as possible. “I’m going to fuck you so damn hard—” Something warm splatters across my forehead and the dude drops to the ground in front of me, what’s left of his head bouncing sickeningly on the ground.
I stumble backward, trying to get away from him…the asshole…the asshole’s body…and that’s when I trip over the freaking chair.
Tangled up in the metal and nylon, I keep pushing back from the blood pooling over the dirt. I hear the guys start hollering from around the bonfire, their frightened and angry voices rising over the heavy metal music, and then…silence.
Dead silence.
I pause, breathing heavily and blinking, trying to get some idea of what’s going on. When I see two figures walking toward me, a scream rises in my throat.
I bite back the cry and try to stand, but my brain and body aren’t in sync. There’s some sort of disconnect, a delay, and my limbs aren’t mine to control.
It’s not until I see one of the bodies fall to the grass with a thud that I realize it’s Liam.
The other man reaches down, gripping Liam’s shirt in a tight fist to pull him up before delivering a square punch right to his face.
I don’t know what’s happening, whether we’ve found ourselves in the middle of a drug deal gone wrong or something else. Shadows are creeping in at the edges of my vision, but I can’t pass out right now. Can’t afford to be at the mercy of this newcomer.
Especially since the shadowy figure is now pulling me off the ground like a weightless doll.
He has one large arm wrapped around my waist, and he lifts me in the air so that my toes can’t touch the ground. I curl my hands into fists and pummel his shoulders, the only act of resistance I’m capable of. “Put me down right the fuck now! Get off me?—”
“Princess.” I cock my elbow back to throw my own punch, but my captor stops it in mid-air, wrapping his rough fingers around my hand. “Victoria.”
The sound of my name…that tone…it resonates through my bones. I blink back tears.
Dark hair and rough stubble.
Straight nose.
Deep, chocolate eyes.
Dante.
