Page 60 of Filthy Little Regrets
I frown at them, then focus on the fight. For all Crue’s taunting, Mace is strangely silent. The lack of response is kind of scary. Everything is locked away. I purse my lips. Has he been repressing this part of him the whole time I’ve known him? Whether he’s being sarcastic or mad, Mace is usually animated. You can tell what he’s thinking or feeling, but right now, it’s like he’s a dog set on the hunt. He closes on his friend, knocking away fists, dodging knees. Fully on the defensive, even though he could easily take the advantage. He’s waiting for an opening. I realize this right as Crue stumbles.
Mace strikes like a viper. Fast and deadly. His fistsconnect with temple, jaw, ribs, gut in rapid succession. Crue’s arms cover his head and ribs, protecting himself from the worst of it, but Mace sends a fist up between his arms, right into the bottom of his jaw. Crue’s head snaps back, arms falling out of position.
I expect that to be the end of it, but Mace doesn’t relent. He’s a blur, raining down punch after punch until Crue staggers on his feet.
For some reason, the idiot is grinning. “Told you I’d kick your ass.”
Mace doesn’t respond. He simply cocks his fist and sends it straight into Crue’s jaw. The hit sends him spinning around before he drops to the floor with a heavy thud. Dare and Remy surge off the bench, catching Mace before he can climb on top of Crue. Mace resists their hold, dragging them across the mat, continuing his pursuit of Crue.
Dare grunts and digs his heels in.
“Fuck, Mace,” Remy snaps, doing his best to stop him.
Though Mace can’t shake them off, he’s strong enough to pull them across the mat, drawing them close enough to launch a foot at Crue’s face.
Crue’s head snaps back, blood following in an arc of crimson in the air. A big glob lands on the mat in front of me with asplat.
My hand flies to my mouth.
Rose sucks in a breath. “Oh my god.”
Mace moves to repeat the kick. Crue’s face is more than bloodied and bruised. When the swelling starts, he’s going to look like a purple balloon. Another kick to the face might mean a hospital trip. I doubt either of them really wants that. Mace is too lost in whatever thrall has taken over him to listen to his friends, who are yelling his name.
I bolt to my feet. “STOP!”
Mace stiffens, shoulders rising and falling, but his pants are as quiet as he was during the fight. That type of silence doesn’t come naturally. What happened to him?
I don’t wait to see if he’ll turn around. I run out onto the mat, stepping between him and where Crue lies, groaning on the mat. There’s not a trace of blue in Mace’s eyes now. They’re pure black. Disconnected from reality. He looks at me, some awareness flickering across his face.
“Stop,” I say again, staring his darkness dead-on. Despite all the warning signs, I’m not scared of him. There’s something about his danger that beckons me closer. Daring me to reach out and test fate. “You’ve made your point.”
Mace stops struggling, but Remy and Dare still hold on to him. “I’m good,” he says.
“Cassia. Go to Rose.” Dare’s voice is full of warning, his forehead lined and the vein in his neck popped out from how hard he and Remy are holding on to Mace.
Mace’s gaze slices toward his friend in accusation. “I said I’m good.”
Dare nods. “I know that, but she’s standing in front of Crue, and he’s going to say something stupid.”
“Fucking hell,” Crue whines on the mat. “I think he broke a rib.”
“You deserved it, dumbass,” Remy mutters.
“I wasn’t actually flirting with her,” Crue says between pants. “We all know she’s hot, I was just stating the obvious.”
“Crue! Shut the fuck up!” Dare shouts.
It’s so loud, I flinch, even though he’s not yelling at me.
Mace sees the reaction and yanks out of his friend’s hold. They move toward him again but back off when he comes my way. My heart is hammering when he stops a foot away from me, violence rolling off him in waves, noneof it meant for me. His chest is heaving, pupils still blown wide.I warned you, the look seems to say.
I lift an eyebrow.I’m not afraid of you.
With a scoff and a shake of his head, he brushes by me. Everyone is on edge, waiting for him to leave before they can breathe easy. I turn, watching Dare and Remy help Crue up, then glance at Rose.
I guess she’s not the only one with a scary husband.
seventeen
