“What’s wrong with me?” Dominique couldn’t believe he actually uttered the words. “You’re the one bleeding all over the floor here.” She poked him in the chest, punctuating each of her assertions. “You’re the one who might’ve died if he’d decided to f**k you against the wall instead of next to your convenient stake. You’re the one who spent how many weeks in bed because he couldn’t even stand up, and now here you are, looking for some d**k to nail you into the ground? Don’t be asking what’s wrong with me. You’re the one with the f*****g problem.”
Jesse grabbed her wrist, moving faster than she thought possible, given his blood loss. His grip was tighter than she expected, too. “I wouldn’t have died. I was never in any danger. Unlike you, who could have been grabbed and carried away by any
