Deviant (Boys of Winter #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,111

a wave of anger pulsing through me. I give his shoulder a hard shove and grip his chin with everything that I have, forcing his stare back to mine, knowing that he can take it. “You didn’t,” I growl, the frustration running through my veins like electricity reacting to water. “She fucked up. We did nothing wrong. We didn’t fail. You’re better than this Dante Carver. You’re stronger.”

He rips his chin out of my grip, the fury bubbling behind his eyes and if I were a weaker woman, I’d be running, fearing the worst, but despite how out of control he is right now, he’d never hurt me, not in the ways that count.

Carver grabs me and with one big stride, slams me up against the wall, pinning me with his big body. “What don’t you get?” he growls, the fire in his eyes completely burning him up. “I FAILED. You could have died by her hand and I was lying on the fucking floor, unable to move. Do you have any fucking idea how that feels? How fucking helpless I felt fighting the fucking gas while knowing she was upstairs trying to take your life?” He pushes harder against me, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His rock-hard body presses against the stab wound on my abdomen but I remain still, knowing how desperately he needs to get the words out. “The thoughts that went through my head, knowing that I was going to pass out and not be able to do anything about it, knowing what was about to happen to you. Never again. I will never let that happen again.”

Carver’s jaw clenches and he drops his head forward, his forehead resting against mine as he tries to catch his breath and then without warning, he tears away from me, dropping me to my feet and turning his back. He starts pacing the length of my father’s office, swiping a vase right off the side table as he passes.

It crashes to the ground with a loud bang, but I keep my focus on him.

I balance myself, taking a deep breath as I watch the hard muscles in his back roll with unease and conflict. I’ve tried rationalizing with him, I’ve tried letting him talk it out, but nothing is working. It’s time to fight fire with fire. We’ll collide to create an inferno and hope to fucking God that we both survive the flames.

I bury the fear within me, take a deep breath, and go for it.

My feet fly back toward the desk and I reach him just as he turns to start pacing back toward me. “Cut the bullshit, Dante Carver,” I yell, the anger bubbling out of me in waves. “You’re better than this. You’re stronger. You’re stronger than anyone I know. You are not allowed to break. You’re the only one holding me and the guys together. We need you, so snap the fuck out of it and instead of feeling sorry for yourself, help me figure out what the fuck we’re going to do to put this bitch in a grave.”

His eyes burn like never before, and while every bone in my body is telling me to retreat, I don’t move a single muscle. He’s more than okay with the idea of throwing me around, but I stand by what I said, he won’t hurt me. He’ll never hurt me.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like being the one who’s not allowed to break? Who always has to stay strong for the sake of his friends, just so that they can keep going?”

I raise my chin. At any other moment, my heart would break for him. I know he’s under worlds of pressure to be this big, top-dog, alpha guy that never shows a hint of weakness, but now is not his time to break. Now is his time to rise above and prove to everyone that he’s the real MVP. That he’s at the top of his game, that no one can touch what’s his, especially petty bitches like Paris Moustaff.

“Like I said,” I rumble, the words pulling from deep within me as I focus my heated stare right on his. “Cut the bullshit. The Dante Carver that I know would be horrified by this little ‘poor me’ act that you’ve got going on. Pull it together and be the man that I know you can be. You can break down after. I’m not about to stand by and watch you fall