Recipe for Love Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary Tags Authors: Anne Malcom Advertisement1

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Unfortunately, the hall that ran toward the restrooms was not busy. Where was a long bathroom line when you needed it?

Maybe it was because I was drunk or because I was numb to everything at that point, but I wasn’t afraid. What could the guy do to me?

Ronnie slammed my head so it crashed painfully against the wall as if to give me an example.

Black spots danced in my vision, and my mouth tasted coppery from my teeth sinking into my tongue.

“Asshole,” I yelled, but my voice was muffled and slurred. Fortunately, the violence shocked me out of the somewhat catatonic state I was in, and suddenly I was very mad. Furious.

There he was, a man who was touching me, hurting me for no other reason than because he was weak. Because he couldn’t look in the fucking mirror and see he was the one ruining his own life.

My knee found its way between his legs, leaving me feeling extremely satisfied by the way he cried out in pain.

I never had taken that self-defense class, but a knee in the gonads was always a good go-to.

I didn’t get the chance to unleash any more of my fury toward someone who really deserved it since a blur of movement passed by, then Ronnie was on the floor.

Rowan was above him, slamming his fist into Ronnie’s face.

I stared at him in shock for a moment, then I waited for him to stop with the punching since it was clear he’d done the hero thing and saved me… yet again.

Eventually, it became clear that he was not in hero mode.

The sound of his fists crashing against flesh and bone was horrifying.

“Rowan,” I whispered.

Those wet, crunching sounds kept coming.

“Rowan,” I called out, louder this time.

He kept punching.

“Rowan!” I screamed.

He stopped suddenly, his fist midair. Blood dripped off it.

Rowan stayed stock still, like he was frozen in time. The sounds of the bar seemed so far away.

He got up slowly and came toward me. I might’ve flinched if I wasn’t still drunk, if I wasn’t so jaded and numb. His eyes were wild and dead at the same time. He didn’t look like the man who had treated me so delicately and kindly since we met.

This was a killer.

Rowan’s eyes circled, landing on my neck, which was aching and hot. I guessed it was red too because his gaze flared in fury.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, the chill in his voice startling as he tentatively stepped forward, like he was expecting me to bolt or cower.

Though this was a rather frightening version of Rowan, I wasn’t scared of him. Not what he’d do to me, at least.

I shook my head slowly, deciding not to mention the throbbing in the back of my skull.

We were silent for a long while. Or at least what felt like a long while before he gingerly pulled me into his arms.

I didn’t relax, not entirely.

Rowan opened his mouth to say something, but someone entered the hall. Kip, looking worried—likely on my account.

“Holy fuck,” Kip muttered, staring at me then Rowan then Ronnie on the floor.

I worried for a second that Ronnie was dead, but then he rolled over, groaning in pain, and I sank back in relief.

Rowan was not relieved, not even a little, holding me tighter.

“Take care of this,” he told Kip, angling his head to Ronnie. “I’m taking Nora home.”

“Got it,” Kip replied without humor for once, staring at Ronnie with a hard, dangerous glare.

“When you say, ‘take care of,’ you don’t mean kill, right?” I clarified as Rowan tried to drag me away.

Rowan’s mouth was a grim line and not at all reassuring.

“You need to get home.”

I planted myself in place. “You don’t mean kill, right?” I asked again, my molars grinding.

“No, I don’t mean kill him,” Rowan gritted out, sounding somewhat irritated. Which made no sense since I didn’t think that asking my boyfriend not to kill someone was a particularly irritating request.

Once I had his word, I let Rowan guide me out of the bar, somewhat dazed and still a lot drunk.

The air outside was biting, causing me to realize I had left my jacket somewhere. Rowan hadn’t hesitated to drape his jacket around my shoulders. It smelled like him.

It wasn’t until we approached Rowan’s truck, so familiar, his hand on my back, that I remembered my plan, that I remembered how I was going to self-destruct.

I stopped moving my feet. Rowan stopped too.

“You can go now,” I told him flatly, staring at his face but only seeing the general shape. I was careful not to focus on his eyes. “You’ve saved the day again; no harm will come to me. Fiona can pick me up.”

“What the fuck, Nora?” he growled. “No harm will come to you?” He threw out his hand toward my neck. “Harm has already fuckin’ come to you.”


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