Page 37 of Cry, Little Dove

He’s clearly drunk, but that ain’t no excuse for harassing my future wife. Actually, that ain’t no excuse to harass anybody. This lil shit is a pathetic fucking worm unworthy of breathing the same air as Erica, and I’ll make him feel mighty sorry for bothering her.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I grab him from behind and spin him around. The stupid look he gives me is worth gold. Tough luck for him. Now he’s no longer dealing with a lady a head shorter than him, but with me—a guy who can eat him for breakfast in one fuckin’ bite.

His mouth opens, but my fist is already flying.

My hand connects with his nose and a satisfying crack sounds. He howls. Blood pours down his face and he whimpers when I pull my arm back again. My next punch lands in his solar plexus. He doubles over, gasping from the pain, but I hold him upright by the collar of his fake leather jacket.

Another advantage of being a doctor. I know to hit ‘em where it hurts the most.

I dislocate his jaw with a precise strike of my elbow, and the snapping of bone spreads balmy glee through me. When I look up, my eyes meet Erica’s. Her cheeks are flushed pink and a bashful smile curves her lips.

She isn’t horrified as I expected.

In fact, I know that expression on her face and it’s making my crotch swell. She’s getting hot and bothered from watching me beat up this punk. I bet if I reached into her pants this instant, I’d find her drenched.

A weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying disappears from my shoulders.

For most women my aggression and territorial attitude are a gigantic, waving red flag with matching alarm bells and sirens. It’s not like I don’t know my flaws. Combined with my unusual kinks, I have plenty of reasons why I stayed far away from serious dating and relationships throughout my adult life.

Occasionally, I hooked up with a random stranger during my hunts. To try my hand at the more hardcore stuff, I visited BDSM clubs using a fake name. No attachments.

But I don’t have to hide my true, brutal nature from my little dove. My stomach flutters like it’s filled with a bunch of butterflies. Shelikesmy possessive affection and violent tendencies.

I gear up to teach the sniffling bastard another painful lesson and give Erica more of a show, when a hand grabs my elbow, and I freeze.

“Sir, I’m going to have to escort you outside,” a man in a light blue uniform says. “We have a zero-tolerance policy for fighting inside the arena.” He points at the security patch on his jacket above a nametag spellingSmithson.

I shove the guy who heckled Erica, and he falls on his ass. He holds his face, scrambling to his feet before he disappears into the crowd. I curse myself for not taking his wallet so I can ID him and find him again another day.

“Sir?” the guard says, his hand digging harder into my arm, and I focus my attention on him.

I click my tongue. “You wanna play this game, Smithson? You sure about that,friend?”

The guard’s head tilts. His grip loosens in confusion and his mouth gapes like a fish on land.

I rip myself free and jab a finger at his face. “Ifyoudidyourjob correctly, I wouldn’t have had to step in. My wife was getting harassed by a drunk and nobody helped her.”

“It’s true!” Erica cuts in. “Cain was defending me. He didn’t start the fight!” She dashes toward me and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing herself against me.

Holy shit, Erica is hugging me. Voluntarily.

For a second, I think I can hear the angels sing in perfect bliss… until the idiot guard interrupts the moment.

“I’m still going to have to ask you to leave, sir,” he repeats like a fuckin’ robot, scratching his head.

“No chance. I ain’t leaving because you’re trying to frame me for your negligence.” I wind one arm around Erica who snuggles tighter against me. My other hand gets my phone out. “Now you can either fuck off, Smithson, or I’ll call the band’s manager and let him know about the piss poor security in this venue.”

It’s a bluff, but the man pales, and I know I have him exactly where I want him.

“Bet they don’t want that bad publicity. Y’know, I reckon they’ll never play here again and people in the entertainment industry talk. A lot. Then the owner of this fine establishment will have no choice but to fire the security company you work for. Think your boss will like that much? Think he’ll be pleased to hear you made him lose this huge contract and ruined his reputation, Smithson?”

The guard’s Adam’s apple bobs and he deflates.

“I-I’m sorry for the mix-up and my uh… mistake, sir. My sincerest apologies for any inconvenience I have caused you and your wife. Enjoy your evening,” he mumbles and shuffles off.

I tuck my phone away and grin at Erica. Her eyes shine tenderly, and my heart tumbles into my gut. I’ve never seen her look at me like this.

“Cain, I—” she says when the band steps onto the stage and the crowd breaks out into cheers. Her expression changes on a dime. “They’re here!” she squeals, squeezing me before she lets go to jump and holler with the rest of the fans.

---