Page 12 of Knot Your Rebel

When she comes out of the bathroom, I watch the interaction. It’s intense, and her body language is giving him fuck off signs, but he doesn’t seem to be getting it. I grit my teeth. I can’t go all caveman, not yet. I want to see how this plays out; what exactly he plans to do before I end him.

I whisper a silent prayer… just a little while longer, mate. The need to know holds me in place. I plot what I want to do as I stand there watching her fight him. Is it wrong that watching her fight him has me damn near hard in my jeans? The fucking zipper is about to take a bite out of my dick. It’s sick that I’m rock hard seeing her struggle. She’s a fighter; that gets me going like none other.

Seeing him trying to take advantage of her drunkenness pisses me off the longer I stand here.

Another thought twists in my mind and has me gritting my teeth. She only had a couple shots. I don’t remember looking away. She’s not pencil thin, so she shouldn’t be this out of it, and I’m starting to wonder if someone drugged her. The bartender maybe? Did he put something in her drink? I would’ve seen it right?

Her eyes are watery and unfocused as she tries to fight him off weakly. Her hands catch on the doorframe, and a nail breaks from the force.

There is zero chance that she’s getting away from him without assistance. As soon as the door closes behind them, I sneak up along the wall. Giving the door a shove, it opens just slightly so I can see in. Bastard couldn’t even lock the damn door behind him, too interested in assaulting my omega. My blood boils when he wraps his hand around her throat, and when his other hand goes feeling her up as she slowly loses consciousness, it turns to lava, hot enough to make hellfire.

I see red. I’ve seen enough to know where this is headed, and he’ll be dealt with accordingly. I’d ask my teammates, but I doubt they dabble in this type of vigilante shit. I’ve already sent a text, letting my buddy know we’ve got another alpha problem. One who doesn’t seem to understand the word no. Hitting send, I shoot him the address, and he replies that he’ll be here in ten.

I’m not the most above board player on our team. Most of the guys don’t know much about me, and I like it that way. I keep to myself and observe. Money is a strong enforcer, and I’m not too cocky to admit that. It buys a lot of things and a lot of people. I learned well from my father how ruthless life can be, watching him crawl his way to the top with bloody nails. But he fucking made it, and now he’s on top of the Goddamn world.

Wanting to deal him a dish of his own medicine, I creep up behind him and wrap my hand around his throat. I don’t give him time to get used to it as I continue to squeeze, feeling his pulse quicken as panic sets up. He tries to talk, but it comes out incoherent as I squeeze his neck, cutting off his air supply. I have no time for it. He had his chance to be a decent alpha and walk away. He didn’t. Now, he gets to deal with me.

My eyes fall to my mate, who’s barely conscious. She’s slid down to the floor, and her back is against the wall. He takes my distraction as an opportunity and swings at me; barely missing once I realize what's happening.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I start swinging. It doesn’t matter where I hit as long as I make contact. I should kill him right here, but then she’d have to answer questions. I won’t do that to her. So I’ll make him go away quietly, but not before he knows not to touch another omega again with ill intent.

Not that I expect him to be smart enough to figure it out. I should beat the shit out of him and leave him to die, but I’m not sure that I could control myself before actually killing him. I don’t need to be locked up for murder.

Her fear still lightly tinges the air, and it’s bitter. His anger joins it in a wicked dance of sour bitters.

My knuckles bleed from the continual smack of skin-on-skin. Bloody knuckles is just a way of life, though. Lifting my hand, I wipe my mouth with the back of it. A red tint stains in a line. Great, my lip must be bleeding. I don’t remember him getting a good hit in, but I’m losing it right now.

He falls to the ground after I deal him one solid punch, holding his head and moaning as if he’s in agony. Could’ve been a lot worse, motherfucker.

“Get the fuck out of here before I end you, and if I so much as see you around her again, you’ll wish you’d been dead,” I growl, menacingly, meaning every word I’ve spoken.

He scrambles to his feet, warily watching me to see what else I’m going to do. My job here is done as far as I’m concerned.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I don’t have to look at it to know he’s here. He’ll take care of our little problem.

He pauses briefly at the door, glaring at my omega one last time before I’m moving towards him, and he scurries away like the underwater dweller he is.

The door shuts behind him. All I can do is stand and stare at my mate, looking so fragile on the floor. I’m irrationally angry, but I can’t show that side to her. Not yet, at least.

Ever so slowly, I reach out to touch her shoulder, and she jerks away from me like I’m a hot iron just brandished from the pits of hell. “Shh… you’re all right,” I tell her. “Let’s get you home.” Her eyes are closed, and she just nods, trusting me without having the slightest clue of who I am.

I pull her in close, my nose running just barely against her smooth skin. Her scent engulfs me, and my cock rises to the occasion. Fucking worst timing, dude. The cinnamon and apple pie mixture has me salivating. Closing my eyes, I shake my head. Wake the fuck up, Tate. Get her out of here.

I could be a serial killer for all she knows. We’ll have to have a discussion about that at some point, but not right now. I will not allow her to put her safety at risk again like she did tonight or she will find punishment as her closest friend. Disobeying directions will not fly with me. Unless, of course, she wants to see me burn the world to the ground, in which case, I would be more than happy to.

Her dress rides up her thighs, letting me see just the very bottom of her ass, and I picture how red and perfect it will look from my handprints. My palm twitches to spank her right now. Bend her over my knee and remind her that carelessly drinking is a bad idea. And where is her friend? Why isn’t she concerned? Her friend didn't come from the table to check on her when she didn’t return.

Leaning down, I pick her up bridal style, one arm under her legs and one at the small of her back. She grunts as I lift her, and her head falls against my chest. Now, she’s officially unconscious, but she’s breathing. Her chest rises and falls slowly as I watch it.

I put most of her weight on my left side as I drag open the door and leave the dimness of this bathroom. They need more lighting.

Her friend eyes me as I walk down the hallway and head to the table. Anger brews behind those gray blue eyes with each step. She’s pushing her friends to get out of the booth so she can slide out, and then she’s pointing a finger in my direction. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“What you weren’t doing… looking out for her. If I hadn’t been here and seen her being followed into the bathroom, this night could’ve been a lot worse for her. Which begs the question, why the fuck didn’t you come looking for her when she hadn’t returned?” At least she has the decency to look away, embarrassed.

Turning to her friends, she excuses us, and we head towards the door. “I’ll just call an Uber. I’m sure there’s one close by.”

“I’ll carry her home.” I tell her firmly, not caring how far away home may be. They didn’t even drive here? On one hand, I’m happy that she’s smart enough not to put my mate in a drunk driving situation, but I’m also pissed. What if they had needed to get away quickly? What then? But I don’t say it. The frown lines are prominent across her friends' brows. “How far are you?”

---