Page 44 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

My heart hammers against my ribs. “Bob, let me get you a fresh one, no charge.” I’m already moving, grabbing a cloth to mop up the spill. The glass, thankfully, stayed upright. “No harm done.”

But the drunk is already at the bar, slamming his palm down hard enough to make the glasses rattle. “Serve me, Omega bitch!”

Tommy, from the pool table, takes a step forward. “Hey, man, cool it.”

“Fuck off!” The drunk’s hand shoots out, catching the wooden bowl of complimentary nuts. It goes flying, scattering peanuts and pretzels across the floor like shrapnel. “I said serve me a fucking drink!”

“Sir.” I keep my voice steady, professional, even as my pulse races. “I can see you’ve already had plenty tonight. I can’t legally serve you in this condition. I’m happy to call you a cab?—”

“Don’t tell me what I’ve had!” He lunges across the bar, faster than I expected, and his fingers close around my wrist like a vise. His scent is putrid–stale beer and sour anger.

I’m reaching for my phone with my free hand from my back pocket, thinking I can message Ash, when suddenly the drunk’s grip vanishes. A familiar scent of cedar and smoke wraps around me, and there’s Dominic, all six-foot-four of coiled strength as he shoves the drunk back. The man trips over a chair, going down in a tangle of limbs and wood with a crash that makes everyone jump.

“Ruby.” Dominic doesn’t look at me, but his voice is warm honey even as his stance screams danger. His sleeves are rolled up, showing those geometric tattoos I noticed earlier, and the muscles in his forearms flex as he advances on the fallen man. “Let me handle this piece of shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with trash like him.”

My mouth goes dry, watching him move. He’s graceful even now, like a predator stalking prey. I step back, partly because I should give him room, partly because the Alpha command in his voice makes me listen.

The drunk scrambles to his feet, red-faced and spitting curses. “Who the fuck do you think?—”

Dominic’s hand shoots out, fisting in the man’s shirt collar. He drags him close, and even though his voice is quiet, it carries.

“I’m the man doing you a favor right now. We can do this the easy way, where you walk out that door and never come back, or...” His other hand flexes, and I watch the drunk’s eyes widen. “We can do this the hard way. Your choice. But if you take a swing at me?” His smile is all teeth. “Trust me, you won’t like what happens next.”

The drunk’s response is to throw a wild punch that catches Dominic’s lip. My heart stops, guilt already churning in my stomach—he got hurt helping me!

Dominic just sighs, touching his split lip with his free hand. When it comes away bloody, his eyes go cold. “Wrong choice, dickhead.”

The punch happens so fast, I almost miss it. One moment, the drunk is trying to break free; the next, he’s sprawled on the floor, blood gushing from his nose as he howls. Dominic hauls him up by the back of his shirt like he weighs nothing, dragging him toward the door.

The bar is dead silent as they disappear outside. A moment later, Dominic returns alone, grabbing the drunk’s coat from the hook and tossing it out after him. The door closes with a final-sounding thud.

When he turns back to me, he’s smiling like nothing happened. “I’ve got the asshole in a cab to take him straight home as per his licence.” But I’m too busy noticing blood is still welling from his split lip. A few of those in the bar are clapping. I’m in awe! He tries to wipe the mess away with the back of his hand, but it only smears the blood worse.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Your lip…”

“Is fine.” He’s suddenly right in front of me, close enough that I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes. There’s a dangerous glitter in them that makes my breath catch.

“At least let me clean it up.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “You got hurt because of me. It’s the least I can do.”

“Ruby—”

“Please.” I don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. Maybe because he defended me without hesitation, or maybe because I can’t stand seeing his blood, knowing it was spilled over me.

Ash appears beside us, gaze widening at Dominic’s split lip. “What the hell happened out here?”

“Some drunk thought he could manhandle Ruby.” Dominic’s voice carries an edge that makes me shiver. “He won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Shit.” Ash shakes his head. “You okay, Boss?”

“I’m fine, but can you watch the bar for a few minutes? I need to patch Dominic up.”

“You got it. The party’s winding down, anyway. They’re mostly just finishing their drinks.”

I lead Dominic down the hallway to the staff bathroom. It’s small but clean, with warm yellow lighting. The ancient first aid kit sits in its familiar spot under the sink.

“Really, I’m fine,” he protests as I dig out antiseptic and cotton pads. “It’s barely a scratch.”

“Humor me.” I gesture to the wooden stool in the corner. “Please?”

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