Page 69 of Queen of Anarchy (Dirty Broken Savages 2)

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River

I’m still too dazedto do anything to fight back when Priest drags me out of the car. And toosurprised, to be honest. Priest is never the one who’s like this. Knox, sure. Even Gage and Ash can give in to their anger and act rashly from time to time, but not Priest. He keeps himself on such a tight leash all the time, and he’s not the one who loses control.

But right now, that doesn’t seem to matter.

It’s like a switch was flipped in his head. Like he’s possessed by something angry and insistent and isn’t trying to fight it.

Fury radiates from him as he drags me into the house and slams the door closed before any of the other guys can even get in.

He practically throws me against the nearest wall, looming over me with wild eyes. His chest heaves from how hard he’s breathing, and I’ve never seen this much anger and emotion in him.

“Do you have any idea how fuckingstupidthat was?” he growls, his voice rough. He’s inches from my face, staring at me like he can see through me. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m too surprised at this sudden attitude and too tired to summon up any excuses. Given how pissed he is, I don’t think he’d accept them anyway.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demands when I don’t answer.

“No,” I manage, the word coming out rasped and barely audible. My throat is dry from being held in that basement for however long, and I swallow past the lump in it to try to get some moisture.

“Thenwhat?” Priest bites out. “You ran off to follow that asshole without telling anyone where the fuck you were going. Are you trying to make it so we can’t protect you?”

He’s practically foaming at the mouth with rage, and I shake my head, not sure what to say or what to do to make him calm down. It’s obvious me going missing affected him, and he’s giving in to the feelings like I’ve never seen before.

When I don’t have an answer for him, Priest makes a noise of frustration, deep and guttural. He grabs my arm again, and by now, the other guys have come into the house as well. Still, none of them stop him as he drags me up the stairs, though. They just watch and let it happen.

I let it happen too. My heart is pounding in my chest again, and I feel like I’ve been running back-to-back marathons, but I don’t resist when he drags me up to his room and slams the door behind us.

The heavy thud echoes through the room, and I stay where he leaves me, eyes wide as I watch him cross to his dresser.

He rummages through a drawer for a few seconds and then turns around with a handful of neckties. He still seems possessed and out of his mind, like he’s a completely different person.

“Get on the bed,” he snaps, and I scramble to do so, some primal part of my brain responding to the command in his voice. I barely make it to the center of his bed before he’s on me.

His hands are rough as he shoves me down onto my back and grabs my arms, stretching them out to either corner of the bed.

They ache from the rough treatment, but I don’t cry out. I don’t even flinch as Priest uses his ties to bind me to the headboard. The material is soft, at least, but he ties them tight around my wrists and then around the bedposts, keeping me secured in place.

“I’mnotletting you go,” he snarls. “I’m not letting them take you. Not going to let anyone fucking hurt you.” He ties the last knot with an almost vicious tug and then yanks on it to make sure it’s not going to come undone. “I’ll keep you locked away if I have to, but I’m not losing you.”

He’s barely making sense, babbling in a way that makes me uncertain if he’s talking to me or just putting the words out there into the universe. It’s low and muttered, like a mantra, and I realize that something about this whole mess triggered him hard. It must have dredged up an old wound, old loss and pain. He’s gone to a very dark, tortured, heartbroken place, and it’s taking over his usual calm.

I get it.

Irecognizeit.

Because my head is fucked up too.

Seeing my sister, thinking I was going to die at Julian’s hand… it’s all so fucking much, and it’s left me shaken and messed up. Every time I think about Julian’s lie to Hannah, the way he told her it would all be okay, knowing he was going to kill me, I want to scream. I think about what my sister must have gone through, how she was alone for all these years, and I want to break something. It’s too much, on top of everything else that was already fucking me up, and I have no idea how to beat back the demons roaring through my head.

So I don’t fight Priest. I let him tie me down, let him get on top of me with those burning ice-blue eyes that barely seem like his. A part of me thinks I need this as much as he clearly does, somehow. To feel something other than the loss and fear and anger that I’ve been dealing with for the last few hours. Hell, for the last few years.

I need his pain to mix and meld with mine. I need to feel his feverish drive to keep me safe, to let it ground me and remind me that there are people in this world now who want to help me. Something I’ve never had before.

The fact that his protectiveness is violent and almost unhinged doesn’t matter. It still gives me something I need. Still feeds the part of me that’s been craving it for so long, whether I realized it or not.

I drag in a shuddering breath and look up at him. His eyes are on fire, and his hands are rough as he touches me. He drags them down my face and my shoulders, like he’s trying to make sure I’m really here and all in one piece.

“Take it out on me,” I tell him, the words coming out before I can even really think about them. “Fuck it out on me, Priest. Let it go. Fuck me. If not with your cock, then with something else.”

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