Page 29 of Dollhouse

At least not from the hands of others.

Rowen acts like he hates her, but it’s himself that he hates. He hates what she makes him feel.

* * *

We stopby Luigi’s Pizza to pick up dinner on the way home. When we arrive back at the cabin, Rowen takes the boxes of pizza and wings inside, while I carry the cases of beer.

The moment he catches sight of Tate, he visibly tenses. I hate that for him.

And I am not the only one that notices the tense air either.

We carry the food into the kitchen. He grabs some paper plates while I open the boxes on the counter.

King walks in with an arm wrapped around Tate’s shoulders and hands her a plate from the stack. She gives a polite smile in return.

She reaches for a piece of the supreme pizza, only for Rowen to be a dick as he grabs the piece she was reaching for quicker than she could.

With a scowl, she tries again with grabbing a different piece, only for him to snatch it from her yet again.

King and I share a look with raised brows.

“You’re our fucking prisoner, you can eat the scraps after we’re done,” Rowen snaps. “King should’ve tied you up like the animal you are,” he spits, shocking us all into silence.

Rowen’s acting like a child. He continues grabbing food quicker than she can. I expect her to back down after his outburst, but she surprises us all.

She grabs a buffalo chicken wing from King’s plate and throws it across at Rowen, the sauce smearing across his cheek. His eyes snaps to her, and fuck, if looks could kill, she’d drop dead right now at our feet.

“What the hell is your problem?” she demands, licking the buffalo sauce from her fingers then props her hands on her hips. “You’re acting like a damn child.” With a huff, she picks her plate up again and fills it with food. Rowen’s fuming now; the fucker is damn near red, and either Tate doesn’t notice or she simply doesn’t care.

His fists clench, and before she can see it coming, he throws a piece of pizza right at her face. It hits her left check before it falls to the floor with a splat. The marinara sauce leaves red splotches of oil and sauce on her face.

Slamming her plate down on the counter, Tate stomps toward him until they are toe to toe. It’s funny seeing someone of her size getting in Rowen’s face. She barely reaches his shoulder and has to tip her head back to look at him.

Rowen stares her down, his brows pulled together in a deep V, his fists balled at his sides, and his jaw noticeably twitching. Tate is only adding fuel to the fire.

She’s like a chihuahua fighting against a tiger.

Rowen attempts to speak but then decides against it. With a snarl, he stomps out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, you better run!” she yells after him, throwing her hands up with a huff of frustration. “You big fucking baby!”

I’m certain my eyes are wide, and my jaw has dropped to the floor. Rowen has never walked away when he’s been angry. Between the three of us, he’s the one with the worst anger issues. His uncontrolled anger has even scared me a time or two before. She challenged him, and he walked away.

He walked away.

Interesting.

Pussy whipped King goes to Tate’s rescue and wipes the pizza sauce off her face, and all I can do is stand back and laugh at their exchange and her stupidity. She’s flagging down a bull, not knowing what could’ve happened. “You shouldn’t push him like that.” Her ocean eyes snaps to me and shoots daggers.

“He started it,” she mumbles under her breath.

“Keep pushing him and see what happens,” I warn.

“I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me, and King wouldn’t let it happen anyways.” She’s confident in her words, but King and I know otherwise. If Rowen comes after her, there would be nothing we could do to stop him. He could easily kill her in a fit of rage, and we’d turn a blind eye to it. As much as King may like her and want to keep her alive, when it comes to Rowen, there’s no stopping him.

It’s kill or be killed.

We stand by each other before any piece of pussy.

---