Damaged (Boys of Winter #2) - Sheridan Anne
His big hand curls around my throat as his eyes spit venom, the power in his hold like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I try to scream, but Carver’s lethal stare holds me captive, and I find myself holding back, unable to look away from the horror and betrayal within his eyes.
They burn, pulsing with fury, daring me to try and get away as my nails claw at his strong hand. I’m lifted off the ground, and my feet dangle below, the black silk of my gown barely grazing the marbled tiles. “An eye for an eye,” I tell him as I’m quickly running out of oxygen. “Let me go. I had to do it.”
It’s as though he doesn’t hear me as he continues to stare, his gaze saying everything he needs to say—he fucking hates me. I betrayed him, just as they’ve done to me time and time again.
I killed his father, just as his father had killed mine.
I had no choice. I had to do it, and I’d do it again a million times over.
My heart races, my oxygen quickly dwindling as my throat begins to burn and bruise under his wicked hold. I need to breathe. He’ll never let me go. Carver is all about the win, all about what’s right, and he’s too fucking stubborn to give in now. To him all that exists is black and white, there is no grey area, no in-between.
“Carver,” I gasp, feeling light-headed as the gasps and horror continue around us. “I … I … can’t breathe.”
His lethal stare doesn’t waver. He’s going to kill me.
The music dies, and the screams instantly echo around the room. Every eye is on us and the dead body lying at Carver’s feet, the pool of blood slowly seeping across the dance floor.
A body rushes into Carver’s side, and like lightning, a loaded, brutal punch flies straight at his face. There’s a loud grunt before Carver goes flying back, releasing his hold on my neck.
My body crashes to the ground as I suck in a deep breath, my throat throbbing from his bruising grip. My hip drops to the hard dance floor as my torso falls forward into the spilled blood. My hand lands just by the intricate dagger I used to end his pathetic existence.
I wince in pain, knowing that come morning, my body will be covered with deep bruising, but the boys move in front of me, not giving me even the smallest second to assess the damage.
King’s strong grip curls around my upper arm and he yanks me to my feet. The blood runs from my body and I hold back a gag as King keeps his hands on me, holding me still for a few long seconds as my head spins from the lack of oxygen. He refuses to meet my stare as he throws his large body in front of mine, holding me close to his back, making me invisible behind him.
I grip onto his strong arm and peer around him, watching as Grayson throws another punch at Carver, sending him sprawling back onto the marble tiles. I suck in a breath, my eyes wide as Grayson comes down over him, delivering punch after punch as Carver desperately fights back, demanding to get to me.
What the hell is going on? Why is Grayson the one defending my honor? This is the kind of shit I expect from Cruz or King, but Grayson? Why does he even care?
People rush in from all sides, shouts, and gasps coming from every corner of the room as Cruz comes storming in. His eyes quickly scan over me before he flies at Grayson. Cruz grabs him by the back of his suit jacket, and in an incredible show of strength, tears him away from Carver.
Without Grayson’s weight pinning him down, Carver flies back to his feet, storming for me again. He shoves his hand hard against Cruz’s chest and forces him back a few steps, his stare fixed solely on mine.
He reaches King, but he won’t dare move, keeping me protected from the raging heir in front of us. Carver grabs King by the front of his shirt and pulls him in, ready to toss him aside. “MOVE,” he roars.
King pushes against his hold, forcing him back just as Carver had done to Cruz. “You’ll have to fucking kill me to get to her.”
Fury burns in Carver’s eyes. There’s no way in hell that he’d follow through on a challenge like that, but he’ll sure