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He just chuckles, the sound low and sinister. His free hand snakes up to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch searing like a brand.
"Don't be like that, sweetheart. Let’s have a little fun, just you and me..."
His fingers trail lower, tracing a scorching path down my throat toward the swell of my breasts. My heart thunders, each ragged breath more labored than the last as I struggle against his solid weight.
"Let go of me, you piece of shit!"
Panic claws at my throat, the walls seeming to close in from every side. God, I'm too drunk to fend him off properly, too out of my element. I need help. I need—
"I believe she asked you to back off." The low, gravelly voice comes from behind us, laced with a deadly calm that somehow makes the hairs prick on the back of my neck.
The man pinning me freezes, his leer faltering for the first time. He turns slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of a hulking silhouette filling the hall's entrance, arms folded over a massively broad chest.
"This doesn't concern you, friend," my attacker growls over his shoulder, his grip tightening fractionally. "Why don't you run along before—"
The rest of his words are abruptly choked off as the newcomer surges forward with startling quickness. One second, he's looming in the shadows; the next, he's right there, an unstoppable force of nature.
A massive hand clamps down on the man's wrist like a vise, wrenching it away from where it's pinning me. I crumple against the wall, gasping for air as Zane—because who else could that towering figure be?—effortlessly hauls the asshole off his feet and slams him against the opposite wall in a bone-jarring impact.
The man lets out a grunt of stunned surprise, eyes going wide as he finds himself dangling a foot off the ground with Zane's hand clamped around his throat. He kicks and flails helplessly as Zane leans closer, their faces mere inches apart.
"I'm only going to say this once," he rumbles in that same deadly calm tone. "You're going to apologize to the lady. Then you're going to walk out of here and never show your pathetic face around her again. Do you understand?"
The man wheezes, his face already turning an alarming shade of puce. He nods rapidly, eyes bulging in terror. Zane holds him pinned for another endless heartbeat, his jaw twitching with what looks like barely restrained rage.
Finally, he releases his grip and lets the man drop in a crumpled heap at his feet. He scrambles back, coughing and spluttering.
"I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't..."
"Save it," Zane snarls, cutting him off with a look of disgust. "Just get out of here before I do something I regret."
The words drip with menace, and apparently they're enough for the asshole to get the picture. With one last terrified look over his shoulder, he turns and scurries off down the hallway without a backward glance. Only then does Zane pivot to face me, his expression shifting from stony rage to concern, despite how we left things earlier.
"Are you hurt?"
I shake my head numbly, still reeling from the rapid turn of events. Zane's features soften fractionally. He reaches out a hand toward me, and for a wild moment, I think he's going to touch my face.
Instead, his arm snakes around my waist and hauls me into his arms before I can react. I let out a startled yelp as he slings me over his shoulder in one smooth, powerful motion.
"What are you doing?" I demand, suddenly finding myself staring at the flexing muscles of his back and shoulders as he starts striding down the hallway. "Put me down!"
My words slur together more than I'd like, the effects of the vodka tonics still sloshing through my veins. Zane doesn't respond, doesn't even acknowledge my indignant squawking as we approach what I assume is my door based on the key dangling from the lock.
With his free hand, he twists the knob and shoulders inside, kicking the door shut behind him. Only then does he deposit me onto the bed, his arm lingering around my waist as if to ensure I don't tumble gracelessly onto my ass.
"You reek of booze," Zane mutters gruffly. "We need to get you sobered up."
"I only had a couple of vodka tonics," I slur, unable to suppress a tipsy giggle. "Or was it three? You know how good I've always been at holding my liquor."
Zane's jaw tightens at my flippant tone, but there's something else flickering behind his eyes. Exasperation? Fondness, maybe? He shakes his head and straightens.
"Come on, up you go."
Before I can protest, he's hauling me to my feet with that same effortless strength he used on that asshole in the hall. The room tilts dangerously, and I instinctively clutch at his solid frame to keep from pitching over.
"Whoa there, tiger," I mumble, my face suddenly buried in the warm curve of his neck. "You move awfully fast for an old mountain man."
Zane stiffens at the dig but doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, he loops an arm around my waist, lending me his strength as he guides me toward the bathroom. With his free hand, he turns on the taps, filling the claw-footed tub with steaming water.
