His biker girl, Her biker prince

JAXSON.

My knuckles ached from the hit, but I didn't give a damn. Seeing Damien on the ground clutching his jaw wasn't enough. The moment I saw his hand around her throat, something inside me boiled over. I didn't think before I moved. My fist connected before I could stop myself.

And still, it wasn't enough. I wanted more than to break his face. I wanted to crush every bone in his body for daring to touch her. For putting his filthy hands where they didn't belong.

What pissed me off the most was how my heart reacted. Why the hell did it feel different seeing her like that? I'd seen scumbags rough up girls before, seen worse, but the sight of her struggling for breath, her fingers clawing at his grip, lit a fire in my chest I couldn't put out.

I hauled her upright. "Are you okay?" I asked, softer than I sounded.

She steadied, fingers at her throat, then shoved me away. She staggered but didn't fall. Damien hauled himself up, eyes full of hot anger.

She went after him. Her hand snapped across his face, and he stumbled back, clutching the side of his head. "You bitch!" he snarled and moved forward, suddenly and forcefully. She swung her bag like a weapon, the strap cracking against his jaw. He hit the ground again and she rained boots on his face, cursing him until Nova grabbed her arm.

"Tessa, stop! Please!" Nova hissed, trying to pull her back. But Tessa pushed Nova off like she didn't exist and kept on, mad as a thunderstorm.

I moved in, slipping my arms under her shoulders and lifting her up. She fought like a wild thing, nails and teeth-"Put me down! Don't fucking touch me!"-spitting at me as if I had betrayed her.

I ignored the chaos around us, the phones, the whispers, and carried her toward the school garden where fewer people crowded. As I set her down she wrenched free and, lightning-quick, slapped me across the face. The slap landed clean. The taste of blood hit my tongue where my lip split. For a bit, the world narrowed to the sting and the look in her eyes: furious and wounded.

She glared at me, voice cutting like gravel.

"Don't you ever fucking touch me like that again. I don't care if you just saved me, I don't need your help, Jaxson."

She trembled, but only where I could see the edges of it. She fought to look steady, to make the quake inside mean nothing. Seeing her like that did something stupid in my chest, a heat I didn't want, a possessiveness that tasted wrong and right all at once.

She pushed past me; her shoulder grazed my chest. I closed my hand on her wrist. She stopped like she'd hit a wall.

"Let go." Her voice was flat and dangerous.

I met her fire with my own. "Learn to appreciate help when it's given. That pride of yours won't get you far."

She jerked her hand, trying to pull free. "I didn't ask for your help. You're no better than that asshole. Don't expect me to say thanks, you're just like him, another scumbag looking for attention."

That line should've been a slap. It lit me. "Don't you dare compare me to Damien." My voice went cold and hard. "We aren't the same."

She laughed, sharp and ugly. "You're an asshole. He's an asshole. The two of you should hold hands and get over yourselves."

I closed the distance between us as I held her close to me, my gaze burning in hers. She tried to push me away but I held her still, and I said, low enough that only she heard, "Don't ever put me in the same box as Damien. He doesn't matter to me. But you..." My grip tightened on her wrist, my voice dropping lower, "...you're my business. Whether you like it or not. He can play his games, but when it comes to you, he's stepping into my territory."

She spat back, eyes flashing. "I'm nobody's business. Not yours. Not his. Stay the hell away from me."

Something in me wanted to laugh. I wanted to fold her in and never let the world touch her again. The possession prickling in my gut surprised me with how clean it felt. "You want to be stubborn?" I said, my voice low, "I'm going to crush that little pride of yours. Ruin that ego, and make you beg. Do you understand?"

She stepped on my boot hard and my grip loosened around her waist. She shoved me away, wrenching free, eyes burning. "Do you think I'm that easy to break? Think again, you pissed-off shit." Then she glared at me one last time before walking away.

I smirked as she walked. The way she carried that fury, jaw set, shoulders straight, fire in her step, made something in me go hot and wrong. Her attitude is something that makes her so fucking hot.

"You're mine, Tessa," I said to myself.