Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(37)

“It’s not like that with us.”

“Yeah?” He looks skeptical. “And why’s that?”

“He’s…too good.” For me.

“Can’t argue that.”

I backhand his bicep. “Seriously, Ry, sensitivity. Work on it.”

“What? He is. He’s smart, funny, decent-looking, and—according to my dad—he’s in line to become one of the best UFL fighters in history. He doesn’t drink much, never touches drugs. He’s a…a…” He purses his lips. “Let’s just say the guy is as pure as they come.”

“He’s a virgin. I know.”

He scrunches up his face. “Hard to believe, right?”

“Not really. He’s never seemed very interested in girls. He’s always been about studying and working hard to become a fighter. I don’t think girls were ever really on his radar—”

Ryder bursts out laughing, the sound irritating because I get the impression I’m the joke.

“What’s so funny?”

He wipes his eyes, and his bellowed laughter slows to a chuckle. “Wow, you’re f*cking clueless.”

“You know what? If you don’t learn to use your filter, I’m not—” I jump as a firm grip clamps down hard on my ass. I whirl around to a slit-eyed and sloppy-mouthed Clifford. “Don’t touch me.”

His hands fly up and he laughs low and throaty. “Whoa, what crawled up your ass?”

Ryder steps between us, his back facing me. “Clifford, you’re f*cked up. Why don’t you go sleep it off and you and Axelle can talk in the morning?”

I sidestep Ry and meet eyes with my ex. “Don’t bother. I’m so over you.”

He stumbles back and forth then steadies himself. “You’re over me? Funny, didn’t feel like you were over me when you were suckling like a starving puppy from my dick.”

I launch toward him, but am caught up by Ryder’s shoulder as he wraps an arm behind him to hold me back. “That wasn’t me suckling, that was me looking for it, you limp-dick *!”

His jaw ticks and he lurches forward. “Not so limp when I was buried deep in your cunt, bitch.”

Embarrassment engulfs me in flames, because our war of words is riddled with truths. Truths I’d rather forget.

“You’re the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

“Wish I could say the same, but all the side * and free meals made every second f*cking you worth it.”

Tears spring to my eyes and track down my cheeks. I’m so pissed at him and even more pissed that I’m letting him make me cry that I lean forward again to claw his f*cking eyes out.

Ryder’s arms grab me around the waist from behind. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

Just as the words leave his mouth, the room fills with tension. People who’ve circled around us part to a demanding presence, and I don’t have to see him to know he’s here.

And furious.

“Killian, man…” Ryder’s voice is pleading but unwavering. “Breathe through it, brother.”

I wrench my head around to find Killian standing behind us, his shoulders bunched so tightly beneath his pale blue dress shirt that it strains the seams. The edges of his jaw are sharp with tension, and his eyes are pinned to his target.

“Oh great, Mr. Wonderful’s here to rescue his girl, huh?” Clifford motions to me with a drunken flip of his wrist. “Take her, dude. Won’t see me puttin’ up a fight.”

“Ryder,” Killian growls. “Get her to the Jeep.”

“No.” I pull free from Ryder’s hold and he releases me. “I’m not leaving you. Let’s go together.”

He doesn’t spare me a glance. “I’ll be there soon, Ax. Just go.”

“Yes, please”—Clifford motions with a dramatic sweep to his front door—“get the f*ck out.”

I grab Killian’s forearm, but he rips it from me, and it’s then I notice his hands are shaking.

Ryder must notice it too because he leans in close. “Killian, seriously, don’t do this.”

“He disrespected her.”

“They’re just words, Kill,” I say. “I can take it.”

A flash of sorrow softens his expression, nearly taking my breath away.

“But you shouldn’t have to.” He pushes past Ryder and me and directly into Clifford’s face. “I could destroy you, right here, at your own party, in your own motherf*cking living room, but you’re not worth the stain you’d leave on your carpet.”

“Thank God.” Ryder exhales beside me and guides me away and toward the door.

“Whatever, man, just get out.” Clifford tries to sound tough, but his voice wavers.

“We’re gone.” Killian turns to leave, but pauses and turns back. “Eh, I changed my mind.”

Faster than my eyes can track, he throws a punch that knocks Clifford to his back.

The room erupts in gasps, and Killian eyeballs a few stoner guys, inviting them to be next. They sink back into the crowd, and with that, Killian turns, grabs my arm, and drags me out the door.

He’s like a bull as he moves through the party, pushing people who don’t move quickly enough out of his way. Ryder’s on our heels, and when we get to the Jeep, Killian picks me up by the waist and puts me in it. “Where’s your shit?”