Page 18 of Mason
Humiliation. That’s all this is. I’m burning with it.That’s it, girl. Keep talking in circles around the real issue at hand. You’re mad because you wanted what they were doing to you, and they made you look like a fool.
“Are you okay?”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the quiet words.Um. Oh, fuck I don’t want to talk about this.I turn my head toward the owner of the voice. It’s a brown-haired guy of average height and equally average looks. But he seems concerned, so I throw out a casual, “Oh, hey. Sorry. I got a little overheated.” And I’m pissed at Mason and Duke, but there’s no need to explain all that to this perfectly nice guy.
He fidgets for a moment, then jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I have bottled water. In my room. If you want some, I mean. I think people have already gone through what we bought for the party.” He clears his throat as he discreetly attempts to look me up and down. “I’m Chris, by the way.”
Uh-oh.Okay, maybe I was mistaken about him being a nice guy because he sure doesn’t disguise what he’s after so well. Too bad for him, but I’ve already had a night of it, and I don’t need his shit piled on top. But maybe I can extract myself from this situation without leveling more damage on myself tonight. “Oh, that’s okay. I should get going.” I wrinkle my nose and shrug apologetically, though if I’m reading this dickwad right, I definitely don’t owe him a damn thing.
He shoots me a placating smile like I’m some dumb little lamb who’s going to follow him to his bedroom. “Oh, come on, honey. Come hang out with me. I promise it’ll be a good time.”
I shake my head, bristling at his tone, but give him a firmer answer. “No, thank you.”
He frowns, his forehead creasing. Finally, he leans a hip against the counter, then points at the various liquor bottles scattered about. “I’m a mean bartender. Would you prefer another drink, instead?”
“No. In fact, I think I’m done here. To be clear,we’redone here.” I move to step around him, but he shifts at the same time. My eyes flick up to his and register a glint there. “That was a total dick move.” Not liking the way his eyeballs are all over me, my jaw sets, and I try yet again to maneuver around him.
When he blocks me a second time and grabs my forearm, I see red. He pulls me in close, putting his other hand on my waist. Adrenaline shoots through me. This is a fight-or-flight occasion… and his steel grip on my arm has taken away my ability to flee.
Fight it is, fucker.
“I don’t fucking think so, you asshole.” I stomp down on his foot with my heeled sandal, wrench my arm free as he howls and loosens his grip, then rear back and drive my fist into his cheek.
I’ve never hit anyone like that before.Fuck.It hurt. But I shake it off, my eyes widening at the dangerous fury coating his features.
“What the fuck!” He’s garnering way too much attention for my liking, so I push past him to get the fuck out of Dodge. My eyes dart left and right, only I can’t escape the kitchen area because people are pushing closer to see what all the noise is about. “That bitch stepped on my foot and punched me!”
I glance back over my shoulder to see him pointing at me while holding his cheek. He’s fuming mad, but then again, so am I. Taking a menacing step toward him, my jaw clenches hard. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t deserve.”
“You little bitch, you think you can waltz in here like it’s your right. I know your type. Think you’re better than everyone else, coming in here with the Bainbridge boys. Wake up, you’re theirwhore.You’re less thannothing.”
My next intake of air gets caught in my throat because that’s exactly what Duke called me. It makes me wonder if they’ve been talking to people about me, and I’m just this huge fucking joke to them. Whoisthis asshole? I’m a half second from lunging at the guy to claw his horrible eyes out when I’m grasped around the middle from behind. I gasp and begin to struggle, unable to see who it is that has me subdued.
Next to my ear, whoever it is rasps, “Stop fighting. We’re outta here, Little Gazelle.” I practically sag with relief, allowing Bear to drag me backward out of the kitchen. My eyes widen as Duke and Mason shove people out of the way in a frenzy. Their eyes both lock on me, and, strangely enough, there’s concern oozing from them, which is totally fucking confusing to me.
I must be mistaken. Bear doesn’t give me a chance to figure it out, though, bodily hauling me toward the exit. I catch a glimpse of Mason with that guy’s shirt clenched in his fist, pulling him close to the two of them, so they can deliver… a warning? A threat? Fuck, could it be athank you for putting her in her place?
Assholes. For all I know, that guy is their friend. But then something a little wild happens. Duke’s raised voice reaches all the way to the front hall where Bear is ready to tear open the door and take me outside. “What the actualfuckdid you just say to mystepsister?”
Bear pauses, possibly as surprised as I am. Mason’s gravelly anger-filled voice follows directly after Duke’s. “Bad move, you fucking douche.”
The sick sounds of flesh meeting flesh and bone crunching makes me cringe. Bear doesn’t hesitate any longer than that. We exit the house, and to my mortification, he refuses to put me down, carrying me all the way past the line of people still waiting to get into the party. I struggle.
“Stop kicking, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder again.”
“Put me down, dammit,” I growl. “There’s nothing wrong with my legs. I can walk.”
He halts, dropping me to my feet. The impact is jarring, and frankly, I’m a little in shock that he actually did as I requested. Irritation marring his rather handsome face, he reaches out, swiftly tugging the fabric of my shirt into place, and makes quick work of tying the strings into bows down my abdomen, covering me up. When he’s done, his tongue flicks out, skimming his lower lip. I can tell he’s trying to decide what to say to me. A moment later, he grips my chin in his hand, forcing my gaze to his. “Lennon, you should probably not snap at the only person who has been halfway decent to you since you arrived at KU.”
I blink a few times, trying to process. He’s pissed. And I suppose he has reason to be, but dammit, I’m upset, so I don’t know how he expected me to react.
While I’m busy ruminating on my misstep with him, he grasps my forearm, and I try to yank it back, but he doesn’t let go. He’s way too strong. “Lennon, let me have a look, you’ve clearly injured it.” I actually hadn’t realized I’d been cradling my arm against me. Now that he’s pointed it out, pain radiates from my hand all the way up my forearm. The adrenaline high of the moment must be wearing off. But still, I don’t want him to look. I manage shit like this on my own all the time. Bigger things. I tug my arm toward me.
He spears me with a gaze that leaves no room for argument. He wants my cooperation, and he wants it right fucking now. “Would you stop fuckin’ fighting me for a sec?” His deep voice rumbles out and rams me square in the solar plexus. “Oh, shit, you really did hit him.” Running his thumb over my swelling knuckles, he lets out a heavy sigh.
I stare up into his gold-flecked eyes, unsure if his comment is a question or not. Nervous that he’s going to yell at me, I gnaw hard on the inside of my cheek. My heart rate escalates until I feel like my chest is going to explode.
It’s possible he senses my distress because a low grunt erupts from him, a muscle at the back of his scruffy jaw twitching. “I’ll look more closely when we get home. Someday, when I think you won’t use it against me, I’ll teach you how to properly hit someone, so you don’t hurt yourself like this again.”
