Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

I turn on my heel and head back to the table where the girls are giggling hysterically.

“What? Only one dance?” Dania asks.

“Yup. And it was one too many,” I say as I grab my purse. “I’m going to the restroom.”

I slip through the crowd behind our table, taking the long way around, searching for my demon. He’s been watching me from the darkness this whole time, but hasn’t shown his face again. Dancing with that idiot was my last-ditch effort, a desperate attempt to draw my dark protector out. I imagined him rushing toward me and the handsy prick on the dance floor, ripping the guy away, and taking his place. It’s hard to picture my stalker as a dancer, but I have a feeling he would be good.

When I round the corner of a short hallway, only one girl is waiting in the line for the single-stall unisex restroom. The facilities at the front of the club are way busier but also have more stalls, so people tend to go to those instead.

The door opens and the previous occupant leaves while the girl in front of me stumbles inside. I move up and reach into my purse for my phone to check the time just as hands grab me from behind. My phone slips from my grasp, clattering onto the floor, while the assailant pushes me face-first into the wall. A scream builds in my throat, but a big palm covers my mouth before I can get it out.

“Not so haughty now, are you?” my dance partner’s voice croaks behind me.

I thrash from side to side, trying to free myself from his hold, but he’s using his weight to pin my chest to the wall, and I don’t have the leverage to push him off.

“I’m going to show you how a good girl should treat a man.” His hand wedges between our bodies, and he unzips his pants. Bile rises up my throat as I feel his hard dick pressing against my ass. He grabs a handful of my skirt, tugging the hem of my dress upward, then paws at my panties. Reaching behind me, I grab his balls and twist with all my strength.

A predatory howl breaks behind my back, but it lasts less than a second. The hand over my mouth jerks away, and, suddenly, the pressure on my spine disappears. The muted beats of the club’s music are now joined by a strange new gurgling sound. My heart rate skyrockets as I turn around. A broad male back fills my field of vision, with a long thick braid swinging slightly between shoulder blades. I move my eyes up, and up, until my gaze stops on the red face of the assailant. My demonhas his huge hand wrapped around the guy’s neck, holding him suspended against the opposite wall.

I take a step to the side, staring fixedly at my attacker. He’s clawing at the fingers squeezing his throat, trying to make words come out, but the only sound leaving his lips is muffled wheezing. His feet are dangling almost a foot off the ground.

Without looking away from the bastard, my demon asks, “Did he hurt you, cub?”

For a moment, I’m taken aback by the tone of his voice. It’s steady, as usual, but infused with so much brute force that he sounds like Death incarnate.

“No,” I choke out. “But he tried.”

“Go back to your friends.”

I can’t make my legs move.

“Do as I say,” he growls and turns toward me. “Now.”

All the air leaves my lungs. I can’t believe I once thought his eyes seemed empty. Looking at them now, it feels like I’m staring into the magma chambers of two volcanoes—pure rage, just waiting to erupt.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I don’t want you to watch what happens next.”

I throw a look at my attacker again. He was going to rape me. I might have been able to fight him off and get away before he succeeded, but I’m not completely sure. And if another girl was in my place, she might have frozen up, and then the bastard would have done the deed.

There aren’t many beliefs that I share with Cosa Nostra, but there’s one I wholeheartedly approve of. No man is allowed toforce himself on a woman. So, if my demon wants to kick the fucker’s butt, I don’t have a problem watching him do it.

“I’m staying,” I say.

My dark protector turns to face my assailant. The corded tendons of my demon’s bare forearm pop, arm muscles bulging and straining against his rolled-up sleeves as he tightens his hold. Blondie’s eyes roll back, his limbs twitching a few times before falling slack. My demon releases his hold, letting the would-be rapist’s body hit the ground. He killed the man in less than five seconds, using just one of his hands.

For me. He killed him for me.

“Why?” I ask.

A light touch of a finger at my chin, tilting my head up.

“I’ll annihilate anyone who dares to touch a hair on your head.” His deep voice is infused with so much menace. “No one. Nothing will ever do you harm. I thought you understood that.”

No. Not really. But I do now.

And the feelings that swell with that realization completely snuff out the horror of witnessing the man die.