one of his hands reaching around and sliding to the small of my back. One of his legs presses forward, between both of mine. I sigh and my hands find his chest. This was a bad fucking idea, I think. He's ruining it. "I want to take you up to the house and show you the meaning of a good time," he says. My eyes open just as his head dips down. No fucking way.
My neck snaps back and I'm two seconds from shoving him straight into the bonfire when he doesn't release me but pulls me even closer. I don't need to, though, because Jeremy is no longer my main problem, I realize as he disappears and I stumble, nearly falling on my ass.
It takes me a second to recognize what happened, but the sound of fists hitting flesh draws my attention and then I see. "Dean!" I snap, racing forward. I catch his arm when he goes to hit the guy again and Dean's head jerks to the side. The music comes to a sudden halt like a record scratching against a disc and everyone in the nearby vicinity stops what they're doing to watch the scene unfold.
"What the fuck were you doing?" Dean yells at me. "You let this motherfucker touch you when you're mine?"
"Yours?" I repeat, releasing his arm. "Since fucking when? I'm not fucking yours."
Dean storms up to me and grabs my elbows. "The hell you're not!" His head lifts and he glares at the people around us as I struggle in his grasp, turning my arms so that I twist out of his embrace. "Everybody listen the fuck up!" he yells.
No, I think. He wouldn't. He's not that stupid.
Oh, but he is, I realize a second later as he keeps talking.
"As far as everyone here is concerned, Avalon Manning is Sick Boys property!" he calls out. "If any of you fuckers touch her, come near her, or so much as look at her the wrong way—your ass is dead."
Fury pounds through my system. Absolute fucking rage. And all of it is centered on the man standing before me. "You don't fucking own me!" I yell at him.
Dean's head snaps around and he narrows his eyes on me. "You think not, baby?"
"I know not, asshole!"
Then, he takes a step towards me and before I can scramble out of his reach, he bends over, slides one arm around the backs of both of my thighs, and tosses me up and over his shoulder.
"Dean!" I snap, rearing up as he turns, not waiting for anyone to respond as he heads for the stairs. "I swear to fuck, Dean, if you don't put me down right fucking now—" I cut off when I catch a glimpse of Jake standing next to Abel and Braxton. Traitor! Though, again, I shouldn't be shocked.
"Take care of that," Dean orders the guys, nodding to where Jeremy lies, groaning with a hand covering his bloodied nose. He doesn't let them get another word in before we're both moving past them. Dean ignores me and my struggles until we're halfway up the stairs. "Stop it," he growls out. "Or you're liable to send both of us over the edge."
He's right. My head lifts and I see just how far up he's taken us. If he drops me like this, it's not going to end well. That and that alone, is the only reason I finally settle, waiting until we get to the top of the fucking stairs and away from the cliffs before I redouble my efforts to get out of his arms. But it isn't until we're inside and down in the guys' personal wing of the mansion that he releases me.
"What the fuck was that about?" I demand, punching his chest the second my feet hit the floor.
"I told you," he growls, slamming his hands on the wall behind me. "I fucking warned you not to pull stupid shit. Then I see you grinding on some guy in the middle of one of our fucking parties—"
"I was not grinding on him," I snarl. "We were dancing, and what the fuck do you care? You've been MIA for the last two days. You can't just waltz back up to me and act like you didn't run like a scared little bitch."
"Yes, I fucking can." Dean reaches around me, turns the knob of my bedroom door, and a moment later, the wood is slamming into the wall as he backs me into the room