Page 66 of Mistle-Ho

Already there asshole. “I’m gonna give you two seconds to let me go, motherfucker.”

This time it’s Dillon laughing. “Or what?”

I don’t know what, but it’s gonna be messy. “One.”

Dillon leans in until we’re almost nose to nose. “Say it. I dare you.”

“Two.” Gavin’s deep voice does the hard work for me as his big hand clamps around the wrist of the hand Dillon has on my neck. In the blink of an eye he wrenches it away from my body, twisting it hard enough something lets out a sickening pop.

Dillon’s scream of pain cuts off abruptly when Gavin slams him into the wall beside me, using his hold on Dillon’s arm to pin him in place, face smashed so hard he’s got duck lips.

Gavin leans into Dillon’s ear. “Apologize to her.”

“I’m sorry.” Dill-hole doesn’t hesitate to squeak out the words.

But Gavin’s not done yet.

“Now apologize to me.” There’s a downright deadly edge to his demand. One I don’t doubt he’s capable of backing up.

“To you?” Dillon’s eyes are wide and filled with panic. “For what?”

Gavin’s attention flicks to me for a split second, scanning my frame from head to toe before going back to Dillon. “For thinking you can put your hands on something that belongs to me.”

I should be outraged by that claim, right? Pissed Gavin is acting like I’m nothing more than something he possesses.

But…

Gavin doesn’t treat me like a possession. He doesn’t act like he owns me. Gavin treats me like I’m a fucking gift. Like I’m the best thing in his life.

Like I’m what matters most to him in the world.

Dillon hesitates to give Gavin what he wants. Right up until my hero twists his already injured arm, making him squeal like the pig he is.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Dillon starts to cry a little. “I shouldn’t have touched her.”

“And you won’t touch her again.” Gavin’s voice drops lower. “If I find out you so much as breathe on her, I’m going to rip this arm off and shove it so far up your ass you’ll be able to tickle your tonsils, got it?”

“Got it.” Dillon’s nodding along, head bobbing against the drywall.

“Good.” Gavin hauls him away from the wall and away from me. “Get out before I decide to do it now.”

Dillon doesn’t look back. Doesn’t get the coat he came for. Just scurries away, clutching his arm to his chest.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Gavin swings my way, hard expression gone completely and replaced with concern as his hands gently brush against my skin. “Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head as an odd sensation trickles down my limbs. “No.”

Gavin lowers his head, bringing our eyes level. “I need you to breathe, Al.” He sucks in air. “In.” He slowly sets it free. “And out.”

“I am breathing.” Dots start to swim in front of my eyes and I try to blink them away, fighting to keep my body still as an aggressive trembling takes over.

“You aren’t.” A warm palm settles against my cheek. “You’re freaking the fuck out and I don’t have time to go find that piece of shit and murder him, so I need you to get some air into those lungs for me.”

I try to stare at him, but he’s all blurry. “I don’t freak out.” It’s why my friends like me. I’m a little bitchy and a little boring, but I’m great in the clutch. I don’t get wound up and I don’t lose my cool.

“Then humor me so I don’t freak out.” Gavin’s tone is soft but steady. “Breathe in.” Another loud inhale.

And to humor him, I go along with it.

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