Page 18 of Twice Bitten
With Brent properly subdued, I stood on tiptoe and peeked over the car. I couldn’t see anything; Jack and Hendler were still on the ground. “Jack? Any problems over there?”
“Nope,” Jack called back. “Just grinding his face into the gravel a little bit. Be done in a sec.”
I rolled my eyes. Alphas. Not that I could blame him. But I didn’t want to spend more time than necessary in such close physical contact with fuckingBrent.
“Wrap it up,” I said. “You can beat the crap out of him later. Eyes on the prize, furball.”
“Help me!” Brent moaned pitifully. Damn it. I’d eased up enough that he’d gotten his breath back. I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined him batting his eyelashes and pouting, and it made me want to slap him into next week. “Jack, please! This guy’s hurting me, and Sam hurt me, and I couldn’t help it! I had to do what he told me!”
A smacking thud sounded from the other side of the car, and Jack popped to his feet, teeth bared and eyes glowing a deep, wild gold. Hendler stayed down. That sound had probably been Jack knocking him out.
Which…I didn’t care what happened to Hendler, but he’d been keeping Jack distracted. And now he had nothing to focus on but Brent.
“Please, Jack,” Brent whined. “I want to go home. You know how much I love you, baby! Sam forced me to—” Brent cut off with a squeak as Jack’s fangs dropped and a low, ominous growl rumbled out of his chest, intimidating enough that I went still too.
“Where is it?” Jack demanded, still in that rumbling, bestial growl.
He started to stalk around the back of the car, never taking his eyes off Brent.
My heart tripped into an unsteady samba, all my fight or flight instincts roaring to the surface. Part of me wanted to fling Brent at Jack and run, and another part…almost wanted to fling Brent behind me and protect him from the threat, because Jack looked and soundedterrifying, even to me, and I couldn’t stand by and watch someone weaker being abused by his mate, even if the weaker party happened to be a bag of dicks.
And then there was that last little part of me.
A part I really, really didn’t want to acknowledge.
The part that wanted to climb him like a tree and let him throw me down on the hood of the car, tear my suit off me like tissue paper, and unleash all that alpha intensity on my helpless body…
Oh, fucking hell. I had something so wrong with me.
I had to pull my hips back abruptly, not wanting my erection pressed into Brent’s ass. Ugh.
But Jack hadn’t stopped, still prowling in a way that made me think vividly about what else he could do withhiships, and I had to get my runaway libido under control and figure out what the hell to do.
Fuck it. He’d told me he wouldn’t hurt Brent no matter what, and I had to believe him.
“You should tell him,” I said to Brent. “Because I don’t think I can protect you from him if he tries to beat it out of you.”
Brent tossed his head, golden waves flying and smacking me in the nose. My fangs dropped, hard. “He won’t hurt me,” Brent said, though his voice wavered a little. “He’d never hurt me. Right, baby?”
If he called Jack “baby” one more time, I was going to bite him. And spit afterward, because gross, but I’d bite the hell out of him.
My hands tightened around his wrists again without my conscious volition, and he yelped.
“He’s hurting me again!”
“Yeah, and I’ll hurt you more,” I snarled, giving up on being the good cop. That wasn’t such a natural fit for me anyway, but three cheers for me for trying for a minute? “Maybe yourbabywon’t hurt you. ButI’mmore than willing to beat it out of you, so where the fuck is it?”
“He won’t let you—”
I yanked on his arms, he squealed as his elbows shifted again, and Jack stopped, face contorting and hands clenching and unclenching, claws starting to gleam at his fingertips.
Well, fuck. Good cop hadn’t worked, but if I played bad cop too hard, Jack might actuallydefendthis hair-tossing douchebag.
And then Jack finally, finally looked away from Brent, his gaze flicking to me. Our eyes met.
And held. Golden overlayed on pale, icy blue, boring into me, sending a message I didn’t know if I could interpret.
Except that I could, if I followed my instincts and didn’t overthink it too much. I might not know Jack very well, but every time I’d allowed myself to feel like I did, I’d been right.
