Page 14 of His Fury

She looked up at me. Eyes unfocused, squinting until she recognized me. “Ugh, fuck off, McCabe.”

“Well, aren’t you the charmer?” I murmured as I stood beside her, leaning against the wall. “And here I thought we’d made progress since last I saw you.”

Isla snorted. “Why? Because you kissed me?” She pushed her hair off her face. “It was three years ago. Move on. Loser.”

She was definitely shit-faced, using a wall for support, her top too low and revealing, but I was the loser? She needed tosober up.

“I see nothing’s changed. Your attitude still leaves a lot to bedesired. Come on.” I grabbed her hand and took her into the first empty bedroom I could find. These dicks even fucked boring. Every room I’d entered, they were all in the missionary position. Did no one know there were other ways to have sex?

The room I took her in had a bathroom, and I dragged her into it, ignoring her cursing me out for manhandling her. “For fuck’s sake, Wells, I’m not going to attack you. I want you to splash water on your face.”

She was silent as I ran the water, and then she spoke, her voice curious.“Why aren’t you going to attack me?”

I turned to look at her in surprise. “What the fuck did you just say?” I’d looked her over, sure I was hearing things.

She was leaning against the wall, her new go-to support system. “I said, why aren’t you making moves on me? I’m female, I’m available, you’re here. Why not?”

“Because you’re shit-faced drunk,and we don’t like each other.” I looked her over one more time, this time with curiosity. “Is this how you get laid?” I asked her. The idea ofthisbeing her pickup line was oddly disturbing.

Isla giggled.“I haven’t had sex in seven months.” She shrugged as she looked me over. “You look good. Kinda hot. No, I changed my mind. You’re definitely hot. Do you still kiss as good?” She seemed to think about it. “You know, maybe it was a shit kiss. I can’t remember. You should show me. Refresh my memory. Do you? Kiss the same.”

I shook my head, letting the cold water fill the sink. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked for reviews.” I pulled her to me, and she came too willingly. Her head tipped back to look up at me, her lips parted. She looked a littletooenticing, and I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t tempted.

But she was drunk. She would have a fuzzy recollection of this the next day, and if she did remember, I already knew she wouldhate herself. I wasn’tthatmuch of a bastard to take advantage of her. Even if she did seem willing.Eager even.

“You’re wasted,” I told her, my voice soft. I brushed her hair off her shoulder, my finger tracking over her collarbone. “You’re wasted, alone, and asking for trouble, Is.”

She looked up atme, pressing herself into me. “Or maybe I’m just asking for your kind of trouble.”

Fuck, she did not want me. I knew it. Sober Isla knew it. I needed to be the adult here. I was twenty years old, and saying no to pussy was unheard of. But she wasn’t unknown pussy. She was Isla Wells. Bratty little Isla who looked down her nose at me and disapproved of everything I’d ever done. I bet she was a missionary-position-only fuck.

I shifted my weight, moving slightly to the side. “Come here.” I beckoned her closer. Her eyes lit with heady excitement, and then she shrieked just before I dunked her face into the cold water. “Sober up,” I instructed as she fought me, but I held her under, just enough to wake her the fuck up. I pulled her out. “You’re going to regret this in the morning, and I, like the nice guy I am, will never mention it.” Half her hair was wet. Her mascara ran down her face. Her cheeks were bright red, the fury in her eyes cleared her drunken haze, and she looked like she was ready to kill me.

There she was. The spitfire I was used to.

Isla pushed her wet hair off her face. “What the fuck did you do?” she yelled at me. “You’ve ruined my hair, my clothes…” Turning,she glared at me. “I can’t go out to the party like this! I’ll have to go back to my dorm!”

Which was exactly what I intended.

“You’ll thank me for it later. Stay here. I’ll get Julian.” I grinned at her. “See you later, Is.”

“My name’s Isla, you ignorant asshole!”

I left her in the bathroom, still muttering and fuming. I toldJulian where she was and that she needed to go home. I didn’t mention her throwing herself at me, and I knew she would never admit to it.

I saw him sneak her out not long after, andI left the party with the thought that I’d probably never see her again.

I sighed as I remembered my few encounters with her over the years. Eighteen months later, I’d be back on that campus, and Isla would once more be soaking wet and needing me to help her.

It was a pattern I hadn’t seen before and was now becoming too aware of. How much she needed me even when she never realized it herself. I was the person she came to for help.

Did that make me her hero? Fuck no. Isla would be the first person to tell me I was the villain in her story.

I might be her villain, but I was the only one she relied on when she needed someone to help her. Even if it was only when she was desperate. No matter the reason why, I would always be there for her when she needed me.

How long had she had me wrapped around her finger? The thought wasn’t even off-putting. Instead, it made me feel even more murderous that she’d been taken.

Rye murmured that we were arriving at the old yard, and I focused on the here and now. I was going to dismember Patrick Delaney personally for touching what was mine.

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