Page 52 of Fatality

But before I can even get my feet back on the ground, arms wrap around my waist, yanking me backward and throwing me over his shoulder.

The impact knocks the air out of my lungs.

I gasp, trying to catch my breath. By the time I realize where I am, it's too late.

His hands are already on the backs of my thighs.

I pound on his back, scratch at him, trying to make him put me down.

He chuckles, and one hand slides higher along my flared jeans before tightening its hold with a squeeze.

His voice, when he speaks, is a low rumble, deep and dangerous enough to stop me dead in my frantic movements.

“Stop moving like a worm, or I'll break your legs.”

“Go to fucking hell!” I shout and start struggling again, grabbing his short, messy hair and yanking.

Suddenly, a sharp pain snaps through me.

Crack.

I cry out.

He just fucking slapped me. He slapped my ass.

A blush creeps from my neck to my ears. I'm not frustrated, I'm enraged and embarrassed.

“See? That's how you behave.” he says, deadly calm.

He keeps walking like he owns me.

My face burns with pure, unfiltered rage.

I didn't fight all those people in high school just to let this fucker humiliate me.

I twist my body enough to lift one leg, slipping under his grip, then roll.

Not toward freedom—toward his neck.

My other leg wraps around his neck, and I squeeze as hard as I can.

His steps falter and stop as I tighten my hold, locking him into a chokehold from behind.

I use my hands on his hair to maintain my balance.

But instead of fighting for air, his hands slide to my thighs and make me squeeze harder.

My eyes widen at the sheer insanity of this man, my hold loosens slightly, but it's enough.

He twists into it and drops hard onto the road, dragging me down with him.

My back slams against the asphalt.

I gasp, the impact instantly making me dizzy.

I shake my head, trying to see clearly again, before I suddenly feel weight on top of me.

When my vision finally clears enough, I see him.