Page 139 of Wicked Little Darling

“Touch him again and I’ll fucking kill you!” Reese yelled. The asshole was holding his ear, and people were starting to gather around us.

Goddammit. If Albert found out about this, he was going to be so pissed. I didn’t care if he was pissed, I just didn’t want to deal with it.

I squeezed Reese hard and brought my lips to his ear. “Calm down. Everything is okay, just calm down. I’m fine.”

He shuddered against me, then slumped in my arms, letting his head fall back against my shoulder.

“Nothing’s okay,” he said, sounding so lost and small. “Fucking nothing.”

Suddenly the asshole pushed past a few people who’d come to help him, and I barely had time to turn away when I saw him pull back his arm to hit Reese.

I grunted when the blow landed on my left shoulder blade, and holy fucking shit, thathurt.

“Daniel, don’t! Stop, man, it’s not worth it! That’s the dean’s son, dude, are you trying to get kicked out?”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Daniel—the asshole—being held back by two guys as he panted furiously, glaring at Reese and clutching his ear, and then they led him out of the room.

We needed to fucking leave.

“Put me down, Dakota.”

“If I put you down, are you gonna behave?” I asked him, not feeling very optimistic.

“Yes!”

He tried to turn his head to look at me, and the soft fuzz of his buzzed hair brushed against my chin.

I set him on his feet, still holding onto him from behind, and said, “Stop picking fights with people twice your size. And what the fuck did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, yeah. Looks good, right?” he slurred, reaching up to tug at the longer strands on top.

I didn’t comment and dragged him out of the room toward the door. He let me pull him along, and when it registered that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, I stopped.

“Where’s your goddamn shirt?”

He squinted his glassy eyes and looked left, then right, then shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fucking hell,” I muttered, ripping off my sweatshirt and shoving it over his head, ignoring his frustrated sounds of protest and helping him stick his arms through the sleeves.

I was so mad at him for coming here, for getting this drunk, for picking a fight.

My body was trembling violently, and my chest felt so fucking tight it hurt.

It was a miracle he hadn’t tried to fight someone earlier. Or maybe he had, who the fuck knew.

I tried to tell myself it was okay now, that I had him, he was here, right in front of me, and that everything would be okay.

But I knew that was a lie. Something was very, very wrong for him to have come here, to get drunk like this, to destroy our room like that.

But I wasn’t getting any answers tonight, not when he was this fucked up.

I grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the door, only to be yanked to a stop. He pulled his hand out of mine and started to turn around, so I sighed and took his hand again. He made an angry sound and tried shaking me off him.

I didn’t have time for this shit.

I bent down and hauled him up over my shoulder, holding his legs and walking toward the door. People started cheering and catcalling us, and god, I hated college parties.

“Put me down!”