I inched closer, leaning in.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, his blue eyes dancing between my face and the shiny, black blade in my right hand. “I shouldn’t have touched her. I won’t even look at her again. Please, don’t.”

“You’re what?” I stopped and asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” he said louder.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for messing with your girlfriend,” he rushed out.

“No.” I shook my head like I was speaking to a toddler. “You’re sorry for messing with Tate,” I

prompted.

Whether or not she’s my girlfriend, he doesn’t mess with her again. Ever.

“Tate.” He corrected himself, breathing hard. “I’m sorry for messing with Tate. It’ll never happen again. I was stupid. I was drunk. I’ll apologize to her.”

“No.” My voice had gone from slightly amused to death-threat. “If you ever speak to her again, look at her, talk about her… if you even smile at her, I’m going to add your blood to this knife’s collection.” My jaw ached with tightness, and I could sense Madoc and Jax shifting off to the side. “Now, go home,” I ordered Nate.

“What?” I heard Madoc’s bellow, but my eyes stayed on Nate, scurrying out of the hot tub completely fucking naked.

“He leaves.” I turned to look at my friend and brother, both looking like their eyes were about to pop out of their heads. “This time.”

I knew they wanted to see this dickhead get his ass kicked. Hell, I wanted it, too.

But something had changed. I didn’t want to always feel like Tate deserved better than me.

Doing what my gut wanted to do to Nate tonight would serve no end. He was a loser. I had my girl.

She loved me. I’d won.

“My clothes.” Nate looked around, fidgeting and shivering. “My keys are in my jeans.” “Then I guess you’ve got problems.” I hoped my smile looked sinister. “Have a nice walk.”

He hesitated for a moment, probably wondering how he was going to get home ten miles away and with no clothes in the October chill.

But he didn’t argue.

Date: 2015-02-16; view: 731