Page 18 of Chasing Lustre

Murphy

The ice clinks against the glass as I swirl my whiskey, waiting for my girl to arrive. I don’t even like this shit, but Drew wanted to have a drink before the party began, so here I sit, watching the giant block of ice melt and turn the liquid light amber color.

It was good catching up with him today, and his other groomsmen aren’t too bad—except for Jeremy. Dude is too fucking happy all the damn time. But regardless, I’ve been good all day and now the only thing I want is my girl.

Trouble has burrowed so deep under my skin that it felt like I had a limb missing all day. I don’t know what these feelings are, but I’m addicted.

The skin on the back of my neck prickles, bringing with it a sense of awareness.

Blyth is here.

Swiveling in my seat, I spot her as a beautiful smile overtakes her face. For a second I think our eyes lock, but a big man grabsher from behind and the need to break every one of his fucking fingers becomes visceral.

This was supposed to be a wedding, but it’s about to become a funeral. If he doesn’t get his filthy hands off her in the next two seconds, there’s no telling how much of his body will be left to bury.

I’m up and off my chair in an instant, striding toward them with murderous intent. And I don’t miss the way Blyth freezes up, the shortening of her breath, or the glazed look in her eyes.

She needs me. Now.

The man’s eyes widen when he notices me barreling down on him like a runaway freight train. His face pales and he immediately lets go, backing up with his hands raised.

“Sorry man, I didn’t know she was dating someone now,” he says, looking at her with both lust and confusion. Rage simmers in my belly, and I barely hold on to it, but my need to take care of her outweighs the burning desire to pound him to dust.

Blyth is trembling and not totally with us.

She had seemed to shrug off yesterday’s attack with ease, but that shit can sneak up on you. Not wanting to make it worse, I don’t immediately grab her as I get closer. The guy is clearly concerned, and it eases some of the tension.

“Hey, Blyth. You okay?” he calls, getting closer once again. I pin him with a death glare, and he stops but doesn’t leave.

Bending down, I get to her eye level but don’t touch, instead snapping my fingers in front of her face. Sometimes sharp sounds break through the fog better than anything else, and fortunately, it works. She lets out a gasp, finally focusing on me.

“Murphy?” she asks, brow furrowing when she glances at the party. Seeing the goosebumps on her arms, I quickly remove my coat and drape it over her shoulders. She interlocks our fingers and I hold her hand, afraid to push for more contact, even if all I want to do is tuck her away and keep her to myself.

“You had a moment when that idiot over there grabbed you. Want me to break his hands?” I ask, overjoyed at the prospect. She giggles as if I’m joking. I’m not. But she looks over her shoulder at the fuckwad. Straightening up, she snuggles into my side like she was always meant to be there.

And I fucking love it. The feel of her pressed against me makes everything right in the world.

“Hi, Preston.” Blyth squeezes closer, and I run a hand protectively up and down her back, making her arch like a cat. The fear is slowly leeching out of her, but I don’t plan to leave her side again.

“Sorry, dollface. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just going to ask if you had any plans for tonight. I…I’ve missed you.” He says the last bit quietly, as though I won’t hear or understand that he’s hoping to hook up with my girl. The urge to break him apart rears its ugly head again.

“Run,” I growl, clenching my fist hard enough that my knuckles pop.

He swallows and takes one last longing look.

“Now,” I bark, and he hightails it out of there like his ass is on fire. The urge to chase him down and smash his pretty face in is strong, but she’s the most important thing. Blyth lets out a little laugh as his back disappears from view, and I guide her over to a quiet spot near one of the many bonfires.

“You okay, Trouble?” I ask, pulling her down onto a bench with me. I situate the tiny blond in my lap and curl my body around her protectively. She relaxes into me automatically, and I’m so freaking honored by her trust. She hides her face in my neck and takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m fine. Honestly, Preston is harmless. He just startled me and it brought me back there…”

“Are you sure? I’m happy to go break his face.” She tilts her chin and looks up at me while the fire crackles beside us, giving off an orange glow as it dances in the twilight.

“He doesn’t deserve that. We’ve dated on and off. Actually, he’s the fire marshall… the one who made me feel like an idiot when I burned down my kitchen…”

“Clearly, he doesn’t deserve you.”

She hums noncommittally, turning to watch the crackling bonfire, and we sit in silence for a moment. A thousand questions run through my mind and I want to whisk her away from here, make sure she’s doing alright mentally after her scare, but I know this party is important to her.

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