Page 156 of Fighting the Forbidden

I glare and don’t say a word. Has he done so many awful things he really doesn’t know why we’re here? “You tell me.”

His gaze darts around the room. “Kyla?”

“Bingo.”

“Come on, man!” Wesley holds his arms out wide. “You have no idea what I’ve been through tonight. I’ve suffered enough.” He shudders.

“Nah, sounds like Karma came to collect.” I shrug. “Don’t try to take advantage of girls you get drunk.”

Remy chuckles—a dark, terrifying sound that snaps Wesley’s head to the side.

“I didn’t take advantage,” Wesley protests. “She was fucking begging for it.”

I kind of doubt that, but I wasn’t exactly a witness to what went down either. Just the aftermath.

“You kicked her out when you should’ve taken care of her,” Remy says. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Dude.” Wesley’s eyes bug. “She threw up on my dick.” He points to his crotch, in case we’re confused about what body part he’s whining about. “I had to take the hottest shower possible.” He turns his head to the side and retches.

“While you let her wander around the hotel, drunk and covered in vomit,” I add.

“Hayden said they were going to Molly’s room.” He vaguely gestures at me and snickers. “Your girl’s such a prude, they knew they wouldn’t be interrupting anything.”

His attempt to insult Molly doesn’t faze me, but Remy chokes.

“What the fuck did you say about my sister?” Remy’s jaw works from side to side as he takes a dangerous step closer to Wesley.

“Huh?” Wesley stares at Remy, wide-eyed. The hamster wheel of his brain turns slowly, but finally comprehension lights his vacant eyes as he makes the connection between Remy and Molly. “Ohhhh,” he breathes out like a dumbass.

“I got this.” I brace my hand against Remy’s chest. Anyone else who tried that would probably get their arm snapped off. Remy just glowers at me.

“What’d I tell you earlier?” I say to Wesley.

He stares into the void, the moment stretching as he no doubt searches his fuzzy memory. Finally, his mouth turns down in an oh, fuck sort of way. “Keep her name out of my mouth?”

“Yup.” I let loose with a fist to his jaw, snapping his head back. Pain sizzles through my fingers and up my arm. A split opens on his bottom lip and a trickle of red bubbles there. “That’s for saying her name.”

I’ll give Wesley credit—this time, he puts up his fists and drops into a half-assed fighting stance. He thinks he knows how to fight, but I’ve trained to fight to the death. I’m hyperaware of the power behind my fists and how much damage I can do.

Remy chuckles, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans against the wall.

Wesley throws a lazy punch that misses my face by a mile.

Nice try.

I pop him on the other side of his jaw, whipping his head in the opposite direction. “That one’s for Kyla.”

He drops to his knees. “Fuck,” he groans.

My legs tremble with the urge to smash my knee into his nose. But I restrain myself. I glance at Remy, and he nods. He steps closer to Wesley and grabs a fistful of his hair. Slowly, he tilts Wesley’s head back. Wesley winces and stares up at Remy with pleading eyes. “Stay away from my sister,” Remy seethes. “And her friends. Stick to college girls.”

Wesley chokes and twists away from Remy. He leans over and spits blood on the carpet.

“What’s wrong? College girls too smart for your bullshit?” Remy sneers. “Gotta prey on high school girls who don’t know any better?”

I scowl in Remy’s direction, but he ignores me.

Wesley holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m done with these little bitches. Trust me.”

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