Page 149 of Beautiful Venom
He barely finishes saying the word when an arm slashes through the air, coils around his throat, and yanks him back with raw power.
Preston is the one who did that, immobilizing him. But the one who’s grabbing his arm and twisting it in the air is Kane.
Cold lines stretch across his face and his nostrils flare.
“My, oh my.” Marcus laughs and doesn’t attempt to fight. “I’m honored by the warm welcome.”
Kane twists harder.
“Don’t,” I say once I recover. “Let him go.”
“You defend him again and I’ll break his arm.” Kane doesn’t look at me. “Just say one more fucking word, Dahlia, and I swear he’ll never play another game in his life.”
I purse my lips.
“I’msoscared.” Marcus looks back at Preston, grinning. “Save me?”
“You better shut the fuck up if you know what’s best for you,” Preston says in a deadpan voice.
“My heart is pounding…from absolute boredom. Hey, sweetheart.” Marcus licks his lips. “I think we should get out of here. You said you couldn’t wait to ride my cock.”
Preston strangles him harder at the same time that Kane twists his arm.
Goddamn it. That asshole Marcus doesn’t seem to care about his life.
I’m not sure whether Preston will choke him to death or Kane will break his arm first.
I certainly don’t want to be the reason Marcus loses his career, especially since I was the one who invited him to the vipers’ den.
There’s nothing I can do about Preston, but Kane…
I release a dramatic sigh. “This is such a hassle. I’m going to find someone else.”
And with that, I walk out as Marcus’s laughter echoes around me. I’m not sure if Kane follows, but I keep my head high as I push through the crowd.
A few seconds later, a strong hand grabs my wrist, and Kane swings me around in one swift motion.
His face hovers so close to mine as he growls out, “You truly fucked up, Dahlia.”
I yelp as he throws me over his shoulder and walks out of the club.
26
DAHLIA
Warmth blooms across my face.
Both because of the blood rushing to my head and the embarrassment of being carried out of the club like a sack of potatoes.
People watch us, their whispers penetrating my ears and drowning out the music, but they part for Kane without being prompted. No one dares to get in his way as he strides with determined ease.
My stomach is draped over his broad, taut shoulder, and his big arm is wrapped tightly around my ass, restricting my movements.
“Let me go!” I scream over the loud music.
Either he doesn’t hear me or he doesn’t care.
I wiggle and lift my head, but it’s no use.
