Page 112 of Touch of Hate
The hostess clears her throat, sputtering, looking back and forth between the two of us.
“I am so sorry. That is not how we—”
“I’m not interested in excuses. Please, just get the check, so we can get out of here.” She holds a whispered conversation with another server before they both hurry off, leaving the stand empty.
Scarlet has her gaze trained on the floor when I turn to her.
“What?” I whisper, eyes sweeping the entry. “What’s wrong?”
Finally, I lock eyes with a guy standing near the door, wearing a dark polo shirt and khakis. If there was ever a douchebag uniform, that’s it.
“What are you looking at?” I mutter, jerking my chin in his direction while the couple standing near him backs away slowly.
Rather than address me, he makes the grave mistake of smirking at Scarlet.
“If you ever decide to drop the psycho and date a guy who won’t embarrass you in public, let me know.”
This fucking asshole.
A siren begins blaring in my head, loud enough that I want to cover my ears but know it won’t make a difference. Even now, with my vision red and a craving for this stupid bastard’s balls strong enough to knock the breath out of me.
Though that’s where rational thought ends.
“Ren!” Scarlet’s high-pitched squeal fades to the background in favor of the pained groan that results from my fist connecting with the stupid asshole’s cheekbone. Douchebag.
“Say it again,” I growl, hauling him upright once he begins to slide down the wood-paneled wall. “Come on, you piece of shit. Say it again.”
When he does nothing but groan, I pull my fist back and hit him again. Again. Blood blooms on his lips as if by magic, and the sight only heightens the joy of breaking his face open one blow at a time.
He thinks he can take her from me. He thinks I’ll step aside and let him do what he wants. That I’m weak enough to let that happen.
“Yo, dude, lay off him.” Some foolish bystander tries to pull me away, but all it takes is my glare to send him running with his tail between his legs. Whatever he sees, it’s enough to drain the color from his face.
He tried to take her from me.
Nobody will ever take her from me.
Not if I have to burn the entire fucking world down to keep her in my grasp.
“Ren! Stop!” I hear the fear in her voice when I let the now unconscious body hit the floor, but she might as well be miles away. Nothing matters more than teaching this piece of shit a lesson he’ll never forget. And if bystanders witness it and learn a lesson, good. Everyone needs to know.
“You’re not taking her from me.”
Dropping to one knee, I pound on his nose and his jaw until my knuckles are bloodstained and aching. And still, it isn’t enough.
“You are not.” Another blow. “Fucking bastard.” Another.
I register Scarlet’s body practically draped over mine before hearing her frantic cry almost directly in my ear.
“You need to stop. Now. We have to go.”
Her nails dig into my arms, accompanied by a fierce whisper. “They’re calling the police.”
That’s what does it.
Those four words are the pin that bursts the balloon of my rage.
Beneath me is a bloodied, battered man who, moments ago, was smirking and sure of himself. I did this. I wiped that smirk off his face before rearranging it for him. “Won’t be hitting on anybody after this, will you?” I mutter, standing, my chest heaving, my cock threatening to burst out from my pants, all from the sheer exhilaration of defeating my foe.