“It appears my brother told you everything about what went down with us and Gabby. Did he happen to mention to you that I was just as clueless as he was?” he questions. I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. Is he really trying to play the poor me card right now?
“Thomas told me some of it. The rest I found out through Jazz and Grunt,” I explain. “And you weren’t as clueless. You weren’t even close.”
“What the hell do you know about it?” he says and I should probably learn to watch my mouth, but I don’t. I keep pushing forward—like a dumbass.
“Because you knew your brother loved her and you still pursued her. Thomas was the only one clueless to what you were doing.”
“Sounds like you’ve already tried and convicted me. Decided I’m a piece of shit already. I got that right, babe?”
I cringe. The way he uses the word babe is nothing like how it feels when Thomas does. I don’t like it at all. I know I’ve let my temper run away with me and for the most part, it’s because I’m upset with Thomas, but I can’t be held responsible. After all, Dom is the one who keeps pushing.
“The fact that she knew what she was doing to both of you and kept doing it makes her a piece of shit. That you hid anything from your brother, knowing how he felt, makes you an asshole—the jury is still out on if you are just as bad as her.”
He lets out a whistle and I take a deep breath. He takes another step closer and I refuse to back away. I grew up surrounded by members of the Demon Chasers. I learned from them never to back down. You don’t make yourself appear weak—even if you feel that way.
“You may look like Gabby, but you sure as hell aren’t anything like her,” he muses. He reaches out to touch my hair and I jerk my head back.
I’m about to tell him to keep his hands to himself, but before I can this inhuman growl echoes in the corridor. My gaze jerks up just quick enough to see Thomas half strutting, half jumping to get to us. Then he grabs Dom’s hand and forcibly pulls it away from me.
“You d-don’t fucking touch her,” he growls. There’s so much anger in his words that my eyes go round and I gasp, terrified about what might happen next…
Chapter 31
Thomas
I don’t think. I just react. I see Dom reaching out and to touch Lyla’s hair with that look on his face that he uses on all the club girls and I just see red. I love my brother, but right now, I want to kill him.
Lyla is mine. He’s not touching her.
“Thomas, stop,” Lyla cries, but I don’t hesitate. I jerk Dom away from her and shove him backwards. I want to hit him, have my fist connect with his face over and over until there’s nothing left to even remotely resemble the cocky bastard that he can be. I don’t do that because Lyla is right beside me and I can’t risk her getting hurt in the crossfire.
I’m breathing like I just competed in a triathlon—my entire body vibrating as the air burns my lungs. Dom stares at me and I don’t blink. I hold his gaze and do it while silently begging him to make a move.
“Thomas, stop. What’s got into you?” Lyla whispers, and I can hear the distress in her voice. She’s tentatively touching my arm. The muscle beneath her caress trembles as I try to get my emotions under control.
“He d-d-doesn’t touch you,” I literally growl.
“She looks like Gabby,” Dom says. I hear Lyla’s intake of breath, the small gasp that leaves her body and the way she flinches as if she was physically hit.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce you to Dom the Dick,” Thea says sarcastically.
I ignore her. Right now, it takes everything I have not to go after Dom. I’m mad enough to kill him. Lyla has been through enough shit because of me—because of my brother and Gabby. She doesn’t have to take anything else. I won’t let her.
“She doesn’t,” I deny and fuck, she doesn’t. She hasn’t since that first night. When I look at her, all I see is pure, sweet, clean, Lyla. That’s it. I see the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
“She does,” Dom insists. “But she sure as hell doesn’t act like her.”
“Lyla is n-nothing like her.”
“I had a right to worry about you, T. You’re my brother.”
“You had no right. N-none of our sh-shit touches Lyla anymore. I w-w-won’t let it.”
“Thomas, sweetheart, let this go,” Lyla murmurs.
I long to take her in my arms, but I don’t. I want this crap dealt with first. I want to make sure it’s in our past and she never has to feel pain from it again. She can say what she wants, but I felt the way she reacted to Dom’s words. It wounded her. I will not let it happen again.