Page 88 of Serpentine Valentine
“Lex Gorgon,” he said, the words grinding out between his teeth, square jaw clenched so hard I could see the tendons pop even in the low light of the antique street lamps.
“Pierce Argent,” I said, adopting a little gesture like I was tipping my hat to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this late evening chat?”
He seemed startled by my ease. I doubted he was used to a woman being unfazed by his presence, especially when he was weaponizing his size.
Six foot two or three to my five foot eight was a significant difference.
But I didn’t care.
I was just closer to his tender bits.
“You destroyed her,” he said finally, gathering the tattered edges of his anger to him like a shroud as he stepped forward. He wasn’t so pretty with the sneer on his lips. “First, you fucked her, then you fucked her reputation, and to top it all off, you fuck her up? She has a concussion and a goddamn broken nose.”
I continued to stare at him implacably. I wasn’t going to turn myself inside out to show him the wounds and old scars. He didn’t deserve to know anything about me, let alone the extent of my pain.
It only made him angrier, which wasn’t a surprise. In my experience, men were always annoyed when women didn’t give them an emotional response, which was ironic, because they also often complained when we did.
“Are you a goddamn monster?” he seethed, stepping closer again so only two yards were between us. “Do you even have a heart? Luna is a good person. How could you do that to her?”
Of course, I hadn’t beaten her, but a part of me ached as his words connected because I had hurt her nonetheless. I’d used her shamelesslyto bring pain to her mother, and I hadn’t even apologized for it. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t get close enough to her to try. I should’ve rented a damn airplane to fly the words in the sky (even though that was so far out of my budget, it wasn’t funny).
Maybe a little part of me felt I deserved his aggression, the promise of violence like the scent of sun-baked metal on the air. I dragged it deeply into my lungs and watched as he took another step forward.
“I didn’t touch a hair on her beautiful head,” I said finally, and the words throbbed in tandem with my heartbeat. “But I did hurt her. You’re right. She didn’t deserve it.”
“You’re damn fucking right,” Pierce agreed, looming over me, his huge shoulders blocking out the light behind him so his face was all in shadow.
It threw me back to that night in the woods when I’d come to as Morgan hauled me over his back into the woods behind his office. When he dropped me unceremoniously to the ground, he’d only been a dark impression in the nighttime forest. Pierce was like that now, and it made me tremble despite myself.
I recognized the coiling of energy in his body as he collected his strength to lash out at me, but I didn’t move.
I was paralyzed with old fear and this persistent need to take punishment for the way I’d hurt Luna. Wasn’t he her champion? Shouldn’t I pay a price the way I was forcing Mina Pallas and Jerrod Ericht and the Delta Alpha frat and Professor fucking Morgan to pay one?
Oh.
His hand was at my throat.
I’d thought he would punch me, but instead, he squeezed and lifted, dragging me to my tiptoes. I hung limply, fighting the urge to defend myself as adrenaline flooded my bloodstream.
Take it. You deserve it.
The voice in my head sounded exactly like Professor Morgan’s.
Air squeezed out of my throat like the remnants of toothpaste forced from a tube and soon, black spots danced across my vision, eating segments of Pierce Argent’s pretty shadowed face. It felt like he would decapitate me with those big male hands, popping my head off my body as simple asthat, a cork from a bottle.
It was then panic kicked in. He could hurt me in retribution for Luna, but I wouldn’t allow him to take my consciousness from me, not when I was surrounded by unknown men intent on harm. I couldn’t live through another sexual assault. My soul was already scraped to the bone, and I knew it would disintegrate entirely in another acid bath of pain and shame.
I lifted my shaking hands to his on my throat and pressed in. Tears as hot as fresh brewed tea scalded my cheeks. I imagined the scent of jasmine in my nose and wanted to gag.
I braced myself to fight, ready to kick out, but the strangest thing happened.
He dropped me.
One second, he was holding me half suspended, and the next, I was falling to my knees coughing, his body retreating a few steps back in my periphery.
“What the fuck, Pierce?” someone demanded, his anger sharp and indignant. “You barely fucked the bitch up.”
A long sigh. “I can’t beat up a girl, Beckett.”
