Page 20 of The Villain's Beast

“Shit, sorry,” a soft voice said behind me, a hard shoulder digging into the middle of my back.

I straightened my spine and groaned, grateful to find a distraction from my own tortured thoughts. Turning, I reached behind me, curling my fingers around the wrist of the man who’d knocked into me and effectively stopping him from making an escape.

“Shit, sorry?” I repeated his apology back to him as a question.

When he saw me, a series of things happened, nearly simultaneously.

He tilted his head back to look up at me, hazel eyes wide and scared.

My breath hitched in my throat, expanding until it was almost impossible to breathe.

“I didn’t…” he trailed off, licking his lower lip with the tip of his short and oh-so-pink tongue.

“Didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?” I asked.

“Didn’t know it was you.”

I flexed my fingers around the delicate bones of his wrist. “And who am I?”

Before he could answer, I was jostled again. This time I knew from scent alone it was Daren behind me, pressing his cheek against the outside of my arm like an over-eager puppy.

“He’s a teddy bear,” Daren answered, and I elbowed him hard in the gut.

He keeled over, choking and laughing at the same time.

“Definitely not a teddy bear,” he rasped, quickly righting himself and pushing his way in between me and the stranger who’d accidentally accosted me. “But he’s no one you need to worry about.”

“I…” The other man blinked quickly, stare darting from me to Daren and back again.

“He’s right,” I bit out, unwrapping my fingers from the man’s wrist and handing him off to my second. “As far as you’re concerned, I’m no one at all.”

Chapter 14

Bellamy

Fletcher Sinclair was prettier in person than a man had any right to be. From the broad swell of his shoulders to the punishing grip of his fingers around my wrist, I understood why people of every gender were so quick to throw themselves at him. His hair was dark as coal, but soft in the dim light of the club, his eyes blue as crystals, yet full of barely restrained rage.

“I’m no one at all,” he said to me, voice dangerously low, causing an unexpected combination of feelings to churn in the pit of my stomach.

I looked from him to the man who’d swooped in to save me from him, a dashing-looking man, older than me and smaller than Fletcher, with a tangled mess of dark blond hair and curious brown eyes.

Fletcher let go of my wrist, pins and needles prickling beneath the skin as he all but shoved me straight into the stranger’s waiting arms.

“You’re all right,” the second man whispered, breath hot against the top of my ear.

I was anything but all right, but I had no choice but to believe him.

Three days into school and I was already failing at the one thing my father had asked of me.

“He’s all bark and no bite,” my unexpected savior said next, giving me a turn so we were face to face. “I’m Daren, by the way. Daren Moore.

“I know who you are,” I said softly, immediately regretting the slip.

“Everyone knows who I am,” he said, looking proud. “But I have no idea whoyouare.”

Licking my lips, I blinked up at him nervously. It took all my willpower to not look over my shoulder so I could see where Fletcher had gone off to. I’d see him again soon enough, assuming everything went as it was supposed to. I pulled my hands together in front of me, rubbing my thumb over the place Fletcher had just held me.