Page 163 of Shade
Shade’s laying into Jaime. He’s delivering punch after punch, intent on one thing, inflicting pain that’s coursing through him.
They’re both bleeding, never giving up. Somehow, someway, Shade sees me, his eyes completely despondent as he wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and then rushes Jaime again.
“Shade! Stop!”
He doesn’t.
He can’t.
He looks like a crazy person. Completely out of his mind.
“What’s your problem?” Jaime shoves him back, staggering from the blows but still meeting him head-on. “Is this about Rhya again?”
That’s not what Shade wants to hear. It’s obvious he’s ready to bleed to death to defend whatever it is he thinks he’s defending. Dropping his right shoulder, he draws back and delivers another crushing blow to Jaime’s stomach.
I’m yelling, screaming for Tiller, Roan. . . anyone to help, but they’re not. Nobody is doing anything.
Jaime grunts in response to Shade’s hits and hunches forward in obvious pain. Shade then grabs his jersey, fisting the fabric between his hands and then raises his knee to Jaime’s mouth.
“Please stop! Please!” I cry, watching his fist, the fire in his eyes and the blood on his hands. He’snotgoing to stop.
His bloodshot eyes shift to mine, his fists gripping Jaime’s torn jersey. “Don’t you see. . . . That’s the problem, Scarlet. Ican’twhen it comes to you!”
My heart hurts, physically fucking hurts when I ask, “You mean Rhya,don’t you?”
Shade’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing and lets go of Jamie.
Jaime falls forward to the ground, caught by Reece who’s wide-eyed, watching in disbelief.
“You touch my girl again. . . .” Shade spits blood at him, “And I’ll kill you.”
I have to wonder, does he mean me, or her? Because I’m not entirely sure I can tell the difference.
“Shade! He’s hurt!” I gesture toward Jaime who’s passed out, medics around him.
“Fuck him.” He’s on his bike now, kick starting it.
“Jesus, Shade, was that necessary? You didn’t have to hurt him like that,” I yell until my voice gives and my tears blind me.
“He’s fine. And yes, it wasfucking necessary!”
“You’re unbelievable. I was only talking to him about his run.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Shade’s eyes flare with aggression, hatred, and disbelief that I’m questioning him.
The look he gives me is one that demands to be heard. There’s no warmth to his blues.
He runs the back of his hand over his bleeding mouth and then spits blood before pulling his helmet on and revving his bike up.
“You’re an asshole!” I don’t give up because damn it, he’s going to fucking hear me.
He nods and yells, “I am. I don’t know why you expected anything else of me.”
