Clean, with a hint of citrus.
Mine.
With my eyes still closed, I let him whisk me away, rescuing me from the chaos once again.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Em. I didn’t think. All I did was see red,” he whispers into my hair, cradling me to his chest. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to tell me he’s sorry, that I already know, but I don’t. Instead, I let him hold me. I let him protect me from the fear that still eats away at me, all while wondering if Clark can save me from this…
From the nightmares…
From myself….
Chapter Eleven
Clark
Burying my face in Emerson’s hair, I inhale her, letting her sweet scent calm my heated blood. What the fuck is wrong with me? Never in my life have I acted so stupidly. I’m not the type to fight, to throw my fists around, that’s Vance, and yet I just did.
My gaze drops to my knuckles, smudges of blood from that douchebags cracked nose lingering there. They’re a stark reminder that I shouldn’t be touching her with his blood on my hands, but I can’t let her go. As soon as her scream pierced the air my head cleared, the anger, the red hazing my thoughts disappeared.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair, smoothing a hand down her back. We’re in Vance’s car driving back to the condo now. There was no way I was going to stay there after the scene I had caused. Not only did I embarrass Emerson, but I embarrassed myself too.
Not that I really cared. No way was I letting that asswipe kiss her. It was bad enough that I couldn’t save her from Sarah’s asshole ways. She didn’t deserve to be hurt or attacked by another piece of shit. Clenching my jaw, I feel the need to scream the word mine from the rooftops. I want everyone to know that Emerson belongs to me, that if they fuck with her, they’re fucking with me, but I can’t.
It’s not what she wants, and no matter what I’ll always go at her pace. I’ll always be here even if she only wants me to be a friend and nothing more.
“What the fuck happened?” Vance asks from the driver’s seat. I can see the anger rippling beneath the surface, his hands squeezing the steering wheel. He wants to kick my ass, but he also knows that asshole deserved to have his face rearranged.
It’s not often I act on impulse, but I couldn’t help myself back there.
Whispering as not to freak Emerson out, I say, “He tried to kiss her. He was going on and on about how I slept with his girlfriend, and how he was going to give me a taste of my own medicine. When he put his hands on Emerson, I lost it. All I saw was red.”
My muscles are still burning, my heart beating wildly in my chest. If it weren’t for Emerson screaming, I probably would’ve done more than broke the bastard’s nose.
“Did you sleep with his girlfriend?” Vance asks, and now I feel like punching him too. He already knows the likely answer to that question.
“I don’t know, and I don’t really care.” I feel Emerson wince in my hold, a low whimper coming from her. “If I did, it was consensual. Emerson didn’t want to be touched. There is a big difference between what I did and what he was going to do.”
I’ve made enemies, done things I shouldn’t but never did I think my actions would have consequences that would come back to hurt those I care about those that I might love.
“Dude, I’m not saying you shouldn’t protect Emerson…” Vance hisses. “I’m just saying you can’t be throwing fists around like you did.”
“Ha, like you’re one to talk. If I recall you tried to kick your best friend’s ass because you thought he was hooking up with the girl you secretly wanted.” My eyes collide with his in the rearview mirror.
“Touché,” Vance smirks. “Nonetheless you aren’t me, you’re better. You broke that guy’s nose. That could come back to bite you in the ass. Then again, I doubt he’ll say shit, he did try and assault her.”
Wrapping my arms tighter around Emerson, I say, “I don’t care.” And I don’t. Tonight proved something to me. It showed me that when it comes to her, protecting her, there isn’t a damn thing I won’t do or go through.
Before I know it, we’re pulling up to the condo. Emerson hasn’t moved much until now, but when Vance cuts off the engine, she peeks up at me and I swear I have to force myself to breathe. The girl looking up at me isn’t the Emerson I’ve come to know. She’s broken, frightened, the shell of the girl I know. Her blue eyes lack their normal shimmer, light, and are instead red and puffy with a sharp dullness.