The Outlaw's Obsession(21)

“I better never see you fucking put your hands on her.”

Sonya heard the prospect gurgle, as if trying to say something after Jagger had spoken. Jagger tightened his hold on his throat. Several other men rushed up.

Jagger held his hand out to stop them without taking his eyes off the man he held in a death grip. “Don’t look at her. Don’t speak to her.” Jagger leaned in so they were nose-to-nose. “Don’t think about her, and never, never fucking touch her. Do you understand me?” His voice was low and harsh.

She found herself backing away, but didn’t get very far. She slammed right into a very hard wall, or should she say a chest that felt like a brick wall. Turning and looking over her shoulder, she had to crane her neck to see the man standing before her. His face showed no expression, and the jagged scar on his cheek had her swallowing the lump in her throat. The corner of his mouth lifted in a humorless sadistic smile. The way he looked at her seemed almost curious, but then he took a step back, looked over at Jagger, and then turned and disappeared down the hallway. A low growl had her looking back at Jagger, and she watched as the prospect clawed at the thick hand on his neck.

Jagger tossed him aside as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll, and the prospect scrambled off the floor and out of the clubhouse. For several seconds it seemed all activity in the room stopped. The music still pumped loudly, and a look at the couch showed a few of the bikers sprawled out with almost amused expressions on their faces. A man walked up to Jagger, and she saw the patch on his cut that told her he was the VP. The vice president said something to Jagger, but he spoke too low, and the music was too loud for her to hear anything. Jagger nodded sharply and turned to face her. Sonya’s heart was beating fast as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes, something frighteningly possessive and animalistic, that had her feeling as if she might spontaneously combust right then and there.

She felt other’s eyes on her as well, but they couldn’t be nearly as confused by the turn of events as she was. A too thin blonde—clearly not her natural hair color given her dark roots—moved toward Jagger and stopped right in front of him. Sonya should have looked away as soon as the other woman slid her hand over his chest, down his abdomen, and rested her open palm right on his crotch. But did she look away? No, of course not. She figured Jagger would tell her to go back in the room so he could have his fun with the blonde and burn off some of that intense rage and energy that even her weak and meager human senses were picking up. But what surprised her was he brushed the other woman’s hands off and stalked toward her. There was no other way to describe the way he walked toward her.

Jagger stopped in front of her, and she watched as his nostrils flared out slightly as he inhaled. Another low rumble left him, and she glanced to her left and then to her right. Everyone was staring at them with stunned expressions. Yeah, that was probably how she looked right now. She faced Jagger again, but there wasn’t any fear inside of her, only this awareness that had her toes and fingers tingling and had her pulse racing like she had just run a marathon.

“Court, come on,” Jagger called out but didn’t take his eyes off of Sonya. Then Jagger took hold of her hand, as if he had some kind of claim on her, and started leading her back toward the hallway.

She glanced at the blonde that had just been rubbing up all over him, and the woman had her arms crossed under her huge breasts and her eyes narrowed right at Sonya. Okay, clearly she was a little miffed about the way the situation played out, and getting brushed off by Jagger, but Sonya was confused at what was going on, too.

Jagger stopped at the bar but kept his hand tightly wrapped around hers. “Drevin, grab some food for her and a few bottles of water, and bring it to the back room by the exit.”

She looked over at the man Jagger was talking to and saw on his vest that he was already patched in. Was every guy in this clubhouse built like Fort Knox? But then again these weren’t men at all, but grizzly bear shifters, and tough bikers at that.

“Sure thing, Prez.”

And then just like that everyone started laughing, talking, and carrying on as if nothing happened. Jagger didn’t say anything else as he led her back down the hallway and to the room she had woken up in. Her shoulder was throbbing, but fortunately Court was right behind them.

“Sit.” Jagger issued out that one word like a command, and for a moment she couldn’t move. He was pacing the room but stopped and looked at her. “Please, Sonya.” She did as he asked and watched him pace once more, as if he were some kind of caged animal.