Page 91 of Taming Seraphine

Why am I even thinking about this? I have enough to concern myself with Seraphine.

When the Montesano brothers step aside to let in Rosalind, my lip curls. I glance at the dance floor, where Seraphine and Emberly are deep in conversation, and I turn my gaze back to Rosalind.

She flashes me a smile. “Hey, I want to apologize for coming to your apartment?—”

“What did I tell you?” I rise out of my seat.

Her steps falter, and her eyes widen. “You didn’t say anything about approaching you in a club.”

“It’s over. Go fuck someone else.”

“Is it because of that blonde bitch?” She glances around, looking for signs of Seraphine.

“This is your last warning,” I growl. “Get lost.”

Rosalind raises a hand. I don’t know if she wants to slap me or claw out my eyes, but I grab her wrist and spin her around. When she presses her ass into my crotch, I realize my mistake. Rosalind is the sort of woman who wants any kind of attention, particularly if it’s negative or painful. I should have known better to react.

Movement out of the corner of my eye pulls my attention to the dance floor. Some asshole has grabbed Seraphine from behind and is grinding his crotch into her ass. She struggles against his hold, but that only encourages him to grip her by the hips.

The sight of that bastard with his hands on her ignites a spark of fury that has me shoving Rosalind to one side and storming toward the dance floor. Hasn’t Seraphine suffered enough at the hands of psychopaths? She doesn’t need to endure this grabby sociopath.

“What the hell?” The look on his face when I grab him by the neck is almost comical.

“Come with me.” I drag him off the dance floor.

Rosalind trots after us, but Cesare encircles her waist. If I wasn’t so incensed by the asshole who touched Seraphine, I might warn Cesare to be careful with Rosalind, since she’s a snoop, a stalker and a reporter. I shelve that thought and haul the groper out through a fire exit.

Cool air wafts over my senses, but it does nothing to lower the temperature of my blood. It reaches a boiling point when the other man falls onto the ground with a yell. Discipline and common sense tell me that the danger has passed. I should return to the club and watch over Seraphine, but my baser instincts scream at me to make this guy pay.

He scrambles to his hands and knees, but a kick in the gut brings him back on his belly.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he yells.

“That girl you touched is mine,” I snarl.

“I-I didn’t know,” he stammers. “She was dancing like she wanted the attention?—”

“She wasn’t.” I press my foot into the back of his neck, making him whimper.

The training Anton drummed into my head tells me to back off now before I do something that will attract the wrong attention. I’ve already neutralized the threat, and killing a man in an alleyway is both reckless and a waste of clean up resources.

But I think of Seraphine, kept in that basement and blackmailed to enter clubs like this to murder predatory targets. How many times did she force herself to endure the touch of assholes who only saw her as an object to grope and fuck?

The asshole grabs my heel, attempting to push my foot off his neck. Bile rises to the back of my throat. I pull out my pistol and attach a silencer to its barrel.

“What are you doing?” His voice rises several octaves.

“Making sure you never touch her again.”

The man’s eyes widen, and his breath comes in ragged pants. “You’ve got to be kidding me. It was only a dance. I didn’t hurt her. She was asking for it.” He thrashes. “God, please. Do you want money? Take my wallet.”

Blood roars between my ears, muffling the sound of his begging. A crimson haze creeps along the edges of my vision, crowding out everything else apart from this worthless piece of vermin. How many times did Seraphine beg for mercy before her mind shattered? How many times did she replay the rape and murder of her mother?

The questions spin around, along with images of the collar, the chip, the chain attached to the wall. I press the silencer against his temple and pull the trigger.

He falls limp, and then my mind falls silent.

A breeze blows down the alley, cooling the outer layer of my skin. I stare down at the unmoving body, and blink away the red fog of rage.

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