Page 41 of Angel

“You fucking whore! You broke my nose!” Mouse stumbles toward me, blood trickling down his face and neck and onto his bare chest. He stands there, with heavy, angry breaths. Despite his eyes appearing glazed over, there’s still an evilness to them. I’ve seen this look so many times I’ve lost count. The flashbacks emerge. The painful ones I never want to remember.

He stalks toward me, and I freeze. No matter the number of self-defense classes I’ve taken, the man in front of me makes me crumble. I don’t see Mouse; I see the face of the man who hurt me for so many years. I see my father.

My breathing is shallow, and the room continues to spin. Everything is muffled. The voices, the sounds all around me. It feels as if someone is sitting on my chest. It’s so heavy. Suffocating me. I haven’t had a full-blown attack like this in so long.

Not now, please not now. I repeat the mantra.

My father—no, not my father. Mouse. He raises an arm. Palm out. Ready to strike. I close my eyes, unable to move, and brace myself for the blow. But it never comes. A strong hand locks around Mouse’s wrist before he can hit me. His grip has so much force the veins in his arm bulge, and his fingers and knuckles turn white. He towers over my attacker, and his chest rises and falls at an abnormal pace. His face is red, intense with rage.

And his eyes glow green, just like a snake. Venom.

FOURTEEN

Venom

I don’t fucking know why, but I storm out of there, slam the door, and stalk toward the bathroom. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I agree to that? I pound the stall door with an open hand and lean on the wall. As soon as she dropped that dress and it slid over her perfectly curved body, I knew I was in fucking trouble.

“Fuck!” I push down my jeans and my hard cock flings out of my boxers. I rub fast because my dick is already throbbing painfully. I almost exploded in there. I picture her tits, her skin, all the things I’ve been imagining since the first day I saw her. Like what those delicate pink nipples might look like. But nothing comes close to the real thing. Fuck me sideways. She’s so fucking perfect. She has no idea just how beautiful she is.

Faster and faster. I think about her lips. The way her breasts felt cupped in my hands. Her dick-twitching scent, and the imaginary sensation of her pussy pulsating while she comes around my cock.

Then Mouse. And how he put his hands on her. In her. I wanted to rip his body into tiny fucking pieces. He’s lucky, because had I stayed in there any longer, I fucking would have.

But she enjoyed it? Did she really enjoy that? Enjoy that piece of shit touching her. No, there’s no fucking way. She infuriates me down to my core, but I can’t deny the burning fucking desire I have to drive my cock through her, or murder any man with the same intentions.

What the actual fuck? I punch the wall and the pain shoots up my arm. “Damn it!”

I rub faster, picturing my mouth sucking on each one of her tits. I recall the memory of her against my bare chest. How her skin felt against my skin. Those delicious lips, asking to be devoured. I groan—moan out in pleasure—as I release. My orgasm hits me like a freight train. My fists ball tightly in front of me.

I lay my forehead on my arm like I’m holding up the wall. I cannot let that happen again. I can’t come that close to fucking this woman. Time to start using your head and not your fucking dick, asshole.

I lift up my jeans, zip them, and step back out into this godforsaken place. I stalk toward the bar and order another beer, downing it like my life depends on it. Then I think…

I fucking left her alone with him. What the fuck is wrong with me? Sure, I didn’t mind seeing Angel naked, but the whole reason I went in there in the first place was because I didn’t want her alone with Mouse. The very thought makes me go fucking insane.

Fuck! I get ready to storm back in there, but Angel flies out. She stops to lean against the wall, using it to guide her forward, and her hands try to find something to hold on to. What’s wrong with her?

Not thirty seconds later, Mouse comes barreling behind her. “You fucking whore! You broke my nose!”

Everyone turns toward the commotion, but all I see is red. Mouse holds his face, blood dripping, and there’s fresh bruising around his eyes. Angel looks petrified in a way I’ve never seen before. She’s never scared, never afraid, but the expression on her face is one of pure terror.

My blood boils. And the reptile wants to be uncaged, the snake inside me begging to be let out. Did he fucking hurt her? This is Mouse. Of course, he did. He touched what’s mine.

Mine. She’s mine. This woman does something to me, and seeing her cower in fear just now makes me fucking insane. I’ll be dammed if I let him hurt her. Over my dead fucking body.

I throw my beer bottle against the wall, and it shatters into pieces.

I go to her.

Stalk toward her.

Stalk toward Mouse, because I’m about to break this fucker in half.

A path clears for me. That’s right. I’m the VP here, and I’m tired of playing by everyone else’s rules.

I make it over to him just as he’s about to strike her. I grab on to his scrawny wrist, tightening it with each second. One more squeeze, and I’ll snap it like a goddamn twig. He whips his head around to me. And my vision is still red, turned on like a damn light switch. He wants to see a snake? He’s about to get one.

I wrap my free hand around his throat, walking him—no, dragging him backwards—until he hits the wall. I got weight and height on him, so I can crack him in half with one arm if need be. He coughs, begging for air, and I love every goddamn minute of it.

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