“Oh, I’m sorry.” I snort. “I didn’t realize I’m supposed to assault every man who even approaches me.”
“Not every man, no. But any man who corners you in a club. Any man who puts his hands on you. Any man who isn’t me.”
His amber eyes practically glow in the dark. I try to squirm away from him, if only to draw some more oxygen into my body. “I asked you to come with me. And I think punching him in the face made it perfectly clear I didn’t want to be here with him. I don’t know why you’re mad.”
“Because I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight.” He bites his lower lip. When he looks at me, I don’t think he’s seeing me. He’s replaying the scene in his head—Mikhail cornering me against the wall, the shadows beckoning. “I’m mad because you were supposed to be safe here, but you always seem
