Page 4 of Sacrifice
She glances my way, something like a challenge in her eyes.
I'm moving before I make the decision, crossing the distance in long strides.
"Emil," Saga says, voice warning. "Don't."
"Just checking if you need anything," I say, putting myself between her and the kid.
My back is to him, dismissing him without words.
"I need you to mind your own business," she snaps.
Brandon tries to peer around me. "Everything okay here?"
I turn just enough to look at him.
Let him see what's in my eyes. "Perfect. You can go now."
"Emil!" Saga pushes past me, grabbing Brandon's hand. "I'd love to dance."
The kid looks between us, clearly sensing the undercurrents but not smart enough to run. "Um, sure. Great."
She lets him lead her to the dance floor, shooting me a look that could peel paint.
I watch them dance, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.
He's got his hands on her waist, she's smiling up at him, and I'm calculating how many bones I could break before someone stops me.
"You're going to scare him off," Mom observes, appearing again like she has a radar for my bad decisions.
"Good."
"Emil." Her voice carries that tone—the one that used to make me confess to breaking curfew. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"You're about to cause a scene at your best friend's wedding over a girl you claim means nothing to you."
"She doesn't—" I can't even finish the lie.
"Then let her dance. Let her be happy."
But I can't.
Because the thought of another man's hands on her makes me want to kill someone.
Because I know what she tastes like, sounds like, feels like when she comes apart.
Because she's mine, even if she won't admit it.
The song ends.
Brandon walks her back to the bar, and I watch him lean in close, saying something that makes her laugh.
My feet move without permission.
"Thanks for the dance," I hear him say as I approach. "Maybe we could?—"
"No," I interrupt, stepping between them again. "You can't."
