Protect Me (Broken Heroes 2)

Blood starts dripping down my fists, but I don’t stop until I’ve taken the edge off the top and first layer of skin of my knuckles. My chest heaves as I suck precious oxygen into my lungs. I turn around and see Keira waiting for me. Her eyes are sad, dull, and I wish like hell they were sparkling with excitement or desire—hell, even fear would be a better emotion than the one I am seeing right now.

“Why did you lie to me?”

She averts her gaze, and the gesture gives her away, confirming she lied.

When she doesn’t answer, I start up the front steps and open the door, swinging it wide. She follows behind like a meek little mouse. I slam the door shut, then turn on her—right as she’s taking her shoes off.

“Were you planning to run again? I thought we were past that, Keira. I thought you wanted my protection?”

Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill over and down her cheeks.

“I…” she croaks, her voice full of unknown emotion.

“You what? You thought it’d be better? Easier to run from your problems?” I squeeze my lids shut, frustration and anger coursing through my veins, threatening to break through to the surface. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling hard against the strands. I take a step toward Keira and watch as she retreats a step.

“Is that what you were doing? Running? Did you think you could get away from me again?” I close the space between us in a second. My hands grip her hips with a bruising touch, and I stare straight into her brown eyes.

“I’d never run from you, Damon. Not again.”

My eyes trail over her beautiful face, her tired eyes, and down over her body. The air around us sizzles as soon as my eyes land on her throat.

The faint bruises on her creamy white skin stick out like a sore thumb. I lift my eyes to her face and see fear rattling around inside her. She’s scared shitless, and I doubt I’ll get an answer out of her about who did this—even if I ask.

The sound of my phone ringing in my pocket angers me. I don’t want to answer right now. I just want to make Keira tell me who the fuck I need to kill. I grab my phone anyway, nearly breaking the fucking thing when I see the name flash across the screen.

I lift my gaze to Keira once more—fresh tears have fallen on her cheeks, and I don’t know how she still has more tears inside her. Suddenly, everything falls into place, and I make the connection. The reason why she would lie to me…why she is so fucking afraid right now… why there are bruises around her neck—like someone was choking her.

“He did this, didn’t he? Xander. He put his fucking hands on you.”

Keira’s wide-eyed expression confirms my assumption1q.

I’m unsure how the bastard got into the club without anyone knowing, but it’s clear he planted that bastard in her apartment to distract me. Or maybe he didn’t, and I was just too fucking concerned with killing some fucker instead of protecting her. Either way, I feel like a pile of shit for not being there for her.

Pulling Keira into my arms, I press soft kisses against her throat, over the bruises my piece of shit brother left on her skin.

“I will kill him for this, Keira. I will kill him,” I whisper against her flesh, and she sobs into my chest.

“He told me not to say anything,” she mutters. “Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother?”

I can feel the fragile trust blooming between us wither away.

“Xander and I might share some blood, but I don’t consider him my brother. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it mattered. It doesn’t change anything. I’ll kill him for hurting you.”

Some of the tension disappears from her body as she relaxes into my touch—as if she knows this is where she belongs. I bend down to pick her up, and her arms snake around my neck and her legs wrap around my midsection, holding on to me tightly. I can feel her warmth seep into me.

I carry her down the hall and into my bedroom, placing her gently on my bed.

“I’m going to call back Xander.”

I use the seconds it takes to pull my phone out and dial his number to compose myself—to the best of my ability.

I want nothing more than to scream all the ways I plan on killing him, but I know that would be a bad move…so I rein in my fury for a moment. Taking a deep, calming breath, I wait for him to answer.

It rings, and ring, then his asshole voice filters through the phone speaker.

“Damon, I’ve been trying to reach you. I even came by the club once, but I seem to keep missing you.”