Man of Honor (Battle Scars #3) - Diana Gardin Page 0,17

a single sound. I’ve been struck mute. God, how I wish I was struck unconscious as well.

My eyes are so wide and my breathing so harsh and fast. I shake my head from side to side, but he ignores me. The pain and the shame fight for the top spot in my heart. He thinks he needs this. But does he know he’s shattering me into little, irreparable pieces?

After tonight, my room will never be my safe haven again.

When I snap back to the here and now I’m still on the drunk Neanderthal’s lap and he’s pulling me back against his chest. His paws are all over me, and I’m in serious danger of hyperventilating. I try to gather my composure, because this isn’t me. I’m not weak. I am in control.

I am in control.

But then why do I feel so utterly out of control? Dizziness and nausea settle in my belly at the same time, and without even thinking twice about it, I look toward the bar, where I know Drake is sitting.

He’s turned all the way around in his stool, his eyes narrowed and focused on me. As soon as I meet his gaze, something intense and taut passes between us. I swear he reads the expression in my eyes because he’s up and by my side faster than should be humanly possible.

Damn, the guy is big, but he’s also fast.

I’m off the drunk guy’s lap and in Drake’s arms before anyone can say a word. He squeezes me to his side and looks down at me, his eyes gentle and soft.

“You okay?”

I’m still in kind of a frenzy and my brain isn’t working right. All I want to do is get away. Get a breath of fresh air. But instead, I drop my head against his chest and snuggle in closer.

I hear him speaking, his voice low and rumbling. Risking a peek through the crook of his arm I see the table full of good-timers has gone silent as they stare at the hulk that’s just become my savior. On his best day, Drake is a scary man. He’s big and intimidating, and it’s not even the scar on his face or the tattoos lining his arms that tell a would-be opponent to stay away. It’s the air he carries with him. Like he’s seen plenty of death and even been the cause of it more than once. Danger rolls off of him in droves when he’s not being the big teddy bear our friends all know and love.

“I swear to God, if she wasn’t under my arm right now, I’d make you pay for touching her.” His voice is low and menacing and directed at the man who pulled me onto his lap. “But as it is, I’m going to put her first. Pay your tab and get the fuck out. Before I change my mind.”

I hear the scraping of several chairs, and by the time I look up again the table is empty. Then Drake turns his full attention on me. His eyes are searching, his hands softly caressing my face as he bends down to search my eyes. “Want to get some air?”

I nod, thankful he knows what I need and that I don’t have to say it. Without another word he’s towing me beside him out the front door and I welcome the cold January air as it hits my face.

And I have to admit it to myself.

Drake Sullivan just became more than a past mistake.

7

Drake

I wouldn’t have stepped in unless I knew she needed me to. I know Mea well enough to know that she’s nothing if not damn independent. She doesn’t want some guy swooping in to save her. Ever. So I watched, with itching palms, as that bastard pulled her without her permission into his lap. I waited for her to get control of the situation. And then it seemed like she blacked out or something. Like she wasn’t even there in the moment. I don’t know what she was thinking about, but when she came back to herself she looked for me.

She looked for me.

And I needed no more motivation than that to eat up the space between us and pull her into my arms. When it comes to Mea, some sort of caveman instinct kicks in. I know she’s tough and she wears a coat of armor most of the time, but something tells me it’s a front. There’s more going on in that woman’s head than anyone