Carnage by Sarah Bailey

Thirty Four

Scarlett

I couldn’t move away from the wall. If I took a step, my knees would buckle and I’d collapse on the ground. Never in my life had I been so terrified and turned on at the same time. Not even when I’d been drugged and fucked by the four of them. West had turned my whole entire damn existence upside down in those moments he’d pinned me here and made me come on his fingers. He hadn’t done it to please me. He’d done it to punish me. I hadn’t wanted to come in front of all these people. It was humiliating how much his words and behaviour turned me on. How his actions drove me insane with lust and desire for the man who was turning out to be my worst nightmare.

What woman wanted someone who fucked with their head the way West did to me? Every time he walked away felt like a punch to the gut. I was dismissed. No longer on his radar now his lesson was over. And what a fucking lesson it was.

West’s possessiveness made my heart pound. I didn’t understand it. He didn’t know Mason and he barely knew me. Would it have mattered if it was another man? I doubted it. West didn’t want anyone touching me by the sounds of it other than Drake, Prescott and Francis. The whole thing made absolutely no sense to me. None. The way these men had come after me was the most confusing part of it all. I’d come here to catch them, but they were catching me instead.

I pulled myself together. Not like I could hide in this alcove for the rest of the night. Drake would need me later or maybe now.

Shit, I need to get back out there.

I straightened my dress. My underwear was drenched but there was nothing I could do about it. Fucking West. Why did he have such a profound effect on my senses? Why did he make me wet and achy? I got off on his crude language and downright degrading behaviour. The way he told me he’d fuck me in front of the whole room and make me cry out his name had me completely lost and at his mercy.

Shaking myself, I walked out of the alcove on wobbly legs, trying to regain my composure. The presentations were still going on. I wandered back over to the small table where I found Mason waiting with my bag. His expression made me flinch.

“Where have you been?” he hissed, brown eyes flashing with anger.

“Nowhere.”

“No? You weren’t dragged off by one of them then? What the fuck did he want with you?”

I took my bag from him, not wanting to have this conversation. No way I would tell him how West had stuck his hand under my dress and made me come all over his fingers. How horrified I’d been about the way it turned me on. Mason didn’t get to know those things. He would lose his mind. West had mentioned Mason had tried to start a pissing contest with him. It didn’t surprise me considering how much Mason hated the Horsemen. If he found out what was really going on, I was pretty sure he would wind West up further. And no doubt I would get the brunt end of West’s wrath. His parting words to me had served as a warning. One I took seriously.

“What he wanted with me is none of your business.”

I wasn’t going to deny being dragged off. Mason had clearly seen it.

“Everything to do with them is my business, Scar. You know the deal.”

My hand curled into a fist.

“Oh what? Because Dad said so? Fuck you. It’s my arse on the line, not yours.”

Mason’s eyebrows shot up.

“What the hell has got into you? Where has this attitude come from?”

I should walk away from him before I said something stupid. Something I couldn’t take back. Anger and frustration flooded my body, making me sick to my stomach. I’d already had to deal with West and now Mason was giving me shit. I didn’t have the energy for it.

“What’s got into me is that I’m sick and tired of you giving me a hard time. You didn’t have to come with me today. In fact, I told you I didn’t want you here.” I pointed at my chest. “I am the one who has to live with all of this, Mason. Me. If you can’t handle watching them with me, then that’s on you, not me.”

Before he could say another word, I stormed off, hating the way he’d made me feel. Like I was fucking this all up. And in reality, I was. The Horsemen were formidable opponents who always appeared to be ten steps ahead of me.

I’d planned on going to the ladies to calm down when someone wrapped their arm around me and led me away from the crowd towards the bar. Looking up, I found it was Prescott. His blue eyes were dark and his expression hard. He ordered drinks when we reached the bar, keeping me pinned to his side. When the bartender set them down, I picked one up and raised it to my lips. Prescott watched me as I took a sip. I almost spluttered as the alcohol burnt its way down my throat.

“Jesus,” I coughed. “What is that?”

He gave me a smile.

“Whisky to calm your nerves.”

“More like to choke me.”

Prescott’s eyes twinkled.

“That’s West’s thing, not mine.”

He set the glass down and picked up his own.

Didn’t I fucking well know it? Every time I was alone with the damn man, he put his heavily tattooed hand around my throat. I couldn’t deny it got me hot and bothered. But after the stunt he’d just pulled, I was not inclined to admit such things to anyone.

“Don’t talk to me about him.”

Prescott’s hand around my waist tightened.

“No? What has my unhinged friend done to cause that murderous look in your eyes, hmm?”

Unhinged was an appropriate word to describe West and his bullshit.

I picked up the glass and sipped at the whisky, not caring how strong it was, nor the burn it caused. It was the distraction I needed from my chaotic thoughts.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Of course, sweetness, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. His grin was making my heart do somersaults in my chest. There was a hint of longing in them, making me aware there was far more to this than him just lending me his ear.

“Hmm, I’m sure.”

He leant closer to me.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

A part of me wanted to sink into Prescott, but I didn’t want an audience for it. I could feel Mason’s gaze boring holes into my back. Picking up my glass once more, I indicated the doors leading out of the room with my head. Prescott got the hint. He picked up his own glass and encouraged me away towards the doors. We were outside in the hallway the next minute and walking towards a seating area in the reception by the windows. He set our glasses down on a high table and turned to me.

“Are you sure this is okay? Aren’t you guys up for an award?”

He grinned. Prescott was the head of marketing. This type of thing was his responsibility.

“Francis and Drake can handle it if we win.” He tucked an arm around me, tugging me closer before placing his fingers under my chin, tipping my head up towards him. “Now, my little lamb, what made you so angry?”

My arms went around Prescott’s waist without me thinking about it. His body radiated heat, warming me from the inside out. He dropped his hand from my chin and put his other arm around me, holding me against him.

“West punished me for dancing with my friend.”

Prescott’s blue eyes twinkled with my admission.

“Punished you how?”

I couldn’t look up at him any longer. Instead, I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling my cheeks growing hot.

“He made me come in front of all those people in there,” I whispered. “It was humiliating.”

Prescott nuzzled the top of my head, a completely unexpected gesture.

“Mmm, tell me more.”

I shivered in his arms. Somehow I had a feeling Prescott got off on this shit. The way he’d watched me finger myself had shown exactly how much he liked to be the observer. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. The man had voyeuristic tendencies.

“You expect me to believe you don’t know he got crazy jealous over me dancing with Mason?”

“I never said I didn’t. And I can’t say I liked it either.”

“You didn’t?”

He slid his hand from my back to my behind, pressing me harder against him.

“No. Why the fuck would I want to watch that, sweetness? You’re mine.”

For some reason, when Prescott said I was his, it didn’t make me mad. If anything, I was safe here in his arms. And I really shouldn’t feel safe with him at all. The man was a predator wrapped up in an incredibly attractive outer package. He’d feed on me until he bled me dry if I let him.

I turned my head up, finding his blue eyes intent on me, full of possessiveness that should have made me run away. Instead, I found myself wanting to run towards him. To drown in him.

“Pres, I don’t want to go home. I don’t… I don’t want to be around Mason tonight.”

He cocked his head to the side, a frown appearing on his brow.

“Why not?”

“We got into a fight, but I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want to deal with him either.”

“So, it wasn’t just West who pissed you off.”

I shook my head. For a moment, he was silent, merely observing me with a curious expression on his face. It was obvious what I was asking for even if I hadn’t voiced it. He leant closer, his lips brushing over my ear.

“You do know what will happen if I take you back with me, don’t you?” he whispered.

I nodded. There was no doubt in my mind. Prescott would want something in return. And I’d give it to him willingly.

“Yes.”

His arms tightened around me.

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here, sweetness. This shit is boring anyway.”