Page 75 of Claimed
“No. Just hot.” I shrug.
“You walk around here wearing his clothes and act like you’re the club queen or something,” she sneers at me.
“Not a queen. But I’m Gage’s woman. You’re a Hound. Therefore, you stay the fuck out of my way.”
“Woman? Where’s your cut?” She giggles. “He just feels sorry for you. Why would he want to claim damaged pussy?”
Okay, now she’s pissing me off.How dare she treat what happened to me like some sort of disease?
“At least I’m not community pussy. Every brother here has fucked you and you’re still a Hound. Face it. You’re like the heel of the bread—everyone touches it, but nobody really wants it.”
She straightens, anger and hate in her eyes.
“Oh, yeah? While you were on your little emotional trip, who do you think was taking care of Gage? He was with me every. Single. Night. It’s just a matter of time before he drops you and makes me his old lady.”
Rage clouds my vision. First Lonnie, now her. Without even thinking, I lunge at her. I curl my fists and land a punch to her nose. She screams and falls back against the wall, covering her nose. The bitch tries to run but I catch up with her in the bar, grabbing her hair and yanking her toward me. I kick her feet from under her and she falls flat on her back. She should be very comfortable. Slut. Vaguely, I hear the guys laughing and hooting, but I drown them out. I sit astride her and grab her neck. Her arms flail, trying to grab me, but I’ve got her good. I squeeze and watch her eyes bug out as she struggles to breathe.
“Not so tough now, are you, bitch?”
Blood trickles from her nose. I squeeze tighter but then there are hands all over me. After a struggle, I’m pulled away from her and Tek helps her to her feet as she fights to draw air into her lungs.
“Stay in your lane, slut!” I shout as I reach for her. I drag myself from the arms holding me and turn to see Gage’s confused stare. Motherfucker.
“Don’t touch me!”
I haul ass back into his room, pacing as anger courses through my body. That cock-sucking motherfucker! I can’t believe he was screwing that slut waffle and then climbing into bed with me every night. He walks in, still looking bewildered.
“What the hell happened?” he asks.
“Don’t fucking talk to me!”
“What? What didIdo?”
“What didyoudo? You said I was your woman.”
“You are.”
“Then why does your whore think it’s okay to talk to me however she wants to?”
“My whore?” he asks with a raised brow.
“Yes, your whore! Or maybeI’mthe whore, huh?”
“Don’t fucking say that.”
“Why not? According to her, you’re just with me because you feel sorry for me, and you’re going to drop me at any moment and make her your old lady.”
“Babe, you know that’s bullshit.”
“Don’tbabeme.”
I can’t think straight, and I can’t keep still.I need to fucking hit something.Turning to the punching bag, I let loose. Deep, deep down, the rational part of me knows she’s probably lying but it’s losing to my irrational, royally pissed-off side. He tries to grab me again, but I push him away.
“I said don’t touch me!”
His face hardens. Now, he’s getting angry.Good.
“Raven, cut it out. Right. Fucking. Now.”
