Page 17 of After All The Wreckage

“Call the cops, Rory,” Gage said.

The guy struggled against Gage’s hold, scratching into his skin and the tattoo I’d ached to see just minutes before.

“It’s fine. Let him go,” I said.

“No. He hit you. He was fighting in my damn bar. Call the cops.”

“Do you really want to spend half your night filling out paperwork for something that isn’t going to get prosecuted? Just let him go.”

Gage glared at the kid, pressing into him more and causing him to gurgle, before releasing him and taking two giant steps backward. “Get the hell out of here. And if you ever step foot in my bar again, you’ll regret it.”

“Fuck you and this shitty place anyway,” the guy said. As he went to move away, I stuck out my boot. He went sprawling onto the pavement face-first.

“You bitch!” he said, standing up, face contorted in rage, blood dripping from his chin.

Gage stepped up between us, and a standoff as old as time beat through the air as they stared each other down. Finally, the kid sprinted away.

Gage flipped around, scouring my cheek for marks. He lifted his hands, caressing the skin with a gentleness that brought tears to my eyes. The touch was intimate and familiar even after all our years apart.

I swallowed hard, every single synapse coming awake as the rough pads of his fingers stroked along my jaw. When I dared to meet his eyes, my body froze, snagged in Gage’s vampire-like lure. The chemical reaction zipping between us was so strong Iexpected to see flashes of light dancing in the tiny space between us, threatening to consume us.

As if he felt it too, he dropped his hands and moved back.

But it was too late. I’d already been scorched.

There wasn’t a moment where I’d come in contact with Gage Palmer and not been burned.

Except now, it was the last thing I could afford.

The last thing I wanted.

A maniacal voice inside me laughed.Liar.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gage

BROKEN DOWN ANGEL

Performed by Nazareth

She’d been hurt.She’d been hurt before tonight by some unseen guy in a way that made me want to rip his head off, and now by some ridiculous college kid while I’d stood by.

I wasn’t a violent person by nature. My coaches in school and Nick at my internship with Storm Dominators had all commented on my cool head. But at the moment, I didn’t feel anywhere near calm and collected. All the frustration and anger and heaviness that had been building in me for the last two days—hell, the last four years—attempted to pour out of me.

I might actually have done something I would’ve regretted if Rory hadn’t stopped me.

What was even worse than wanting to beat the crap out of some stupid kid was the feeling I had when I touched her. The feeling I had simply when looking at her. She’d always been beautiful, but now, she was so much more.

When my fingers landed on her cheek, the feel of her bled into me in a way I wasn’t prepared for—into my skin, my chest… my groin. It could consume me if I let it. I might actually be able to lose myself in her. Lose myself and forget, for a few minutes, every burden and responsibility that had been drowning me.

Monte. Ivy. The Prince Darian.

I stepped back.

Startled by those thoughts. No. Not startled. Panicked.

Losing myself in anyone, let alone Rory, was not in the cards for me. Not in my present.