Page 89 of Bossy Wicked Prince

My blood rushes like ice in my veins. I’ve reviewed countless tapes of security footage of guys with the same vibe as the one following her. The footage always ends with something awful.

Irefuseto let something awful happen to Cat.

I pull the car into the empty space in front of a hydrant, put it into park and tear the door open. I don’t even know if I bother to close it before I break into a sprint. My entire being is focused on one objective.

Get to Cat.

My arms and legs pump hard as I run. The dark outlines of the Allan Gardens gates, then the forest of trees whip past me.My adrenaline is running so high, I can’t feel my burning lungs or the sweat trickling down my neck.

I have to catch her.

A deep male voice rises in the near distance. Fuck, I’m too late—the guy found her.

“I know you got me fired!” he roars. “I don’t know what the fuck you did, but no one in the city will hire me.”

I’m burning through every reserve in my body, moving so quickly down the cement path that my feet barely touch the ground. Cat’s name runs through my head like a heartbeat.

Ahead, I register a fork in the path. One way leads deeper into the trees, the other into a large observatory and greenhouse. I only need to follow the man’s voice to know which way to go.

The second I spot them, time seems to slow down. I see him—the chef from the restaurant, Harry, the one who was harassing her. He’s got her pinned up against the conservatory wall, his hands gripping Cat by the arms. He towers above her, and even as she squirms to escape his grasp, she’s no match for his size or the pure rage driving him.

“I’ve got fucking bills to pay!” he yells down into her face. “I got kids and fucking child support! Who’s gonna cover my debts now, hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” Cat squeaks, her voice small and weak.

Then my hands are fisted in Harry’s sweatshirt as I wrench him away from her. My arm pulls back before it slams right into his fucking face. I don’t even remember making the conscious decision to hit him, but hell, I like how that feels. I deck him again, and something inside me roars in satisfaction when I see blood leaking from his nose.

Harry stumbles backward, falling to the ground. He curls into a fetal position, clutching his nose and moaning pitifully. Now that he’s down and the threat is neutralized, my tunnelvision expands. I can feel my chest burning as I gasp for breath. My knuckles ache, and I have to force myself to unclench my fist.

I don’t recognize myself. I’ve never hit anyone in my fucking life. That’s always been more Beau and Ryan’s department. I saw Luke throw a punch once when a drunk guy came at him, but that was self-defense. Nothing like this. It’s like someone else took over my body when I saw Harry hurting Cat.

“Nate!” she says, making me turn to her. She grabs my hands, looking at them with wide eyes. “You’re bleeding!”

I almost laugh. She’s the one who just got attacked, and she’s worried aboutme?

I pull my hands from hers and cradle her face, inspecting it for damage. No blood or bruises, thank god. Her pupils are blown wide from adrenaline, and her cheeks are rosy from the cold. She looks unreasonably beautiful, and some fucked up part of me wants to kiss her right now.

Maybe wait a goddamn minute until she hasn’t just been attacked.

“Are you hurt?” I rasp.

Her lower lip trembles. It takes her a second to formulate an answer. “I’m okay,” she says finally. “I’m not hurt. Just—whoa. You’re here.”

Her amber eyes turn hazy as tears form underneath them. One falls, and she touches it like it surprises her.

It takes every inch of my self control not to kick him in the stomach until he’s not just moaning, but screaming in pain.

God, what the hell has come over me?

My body feels hot and cold at the same time, and my hands tremble. I don’t know if it’s from the cold or just the aftermath of the adrenaline. I’m not in my right mind, and the way Cat’s shivering and looking off vaguely into the distance, I’m worried she’s going into shock.

I pull off my coat and drape it over Cat’s shoulders. It comes down nearly to her knees.

“I’m taking you home, Kitten.”

“W-what about H-Harry?” she stutters.

We both look down at him, still in the fetal position. Blood is still blooming under his nose, which I hope is fucking broken. As much as I’d love to kick the shit out of him, getting Cat somewhere safe is way more important.