Page 65 of Kings Have No Mercy
I fail to come up with a defense. Mostly because… he’s probably right.
I was backing away. Johnny was advancing. We were seemingly alone, and he didn’t seem like he was giving up anytime soon.
But rather than concede, I fight to the end. I forget about the progress Mason and I have made over the last week and a half, and I revert back to what we know.
Old habits die hard.
“It was none of your concern,” I snap. “You don’t even like me! What do you care if I got into it with Johnny Flanagan?”
Oops.
The offense is immediate.
Mason’s face spans a range of emotions. First disbelief, his eyes going wide and unfocused, then disgust that twists his features, and finally the pure rage that I’d say such a thing. He releases the grunt of a beast as he turns and smashes his bloodied knuckles into the wood cabinet behind the bar counter.
The collision is hard enough to potentially break his hand if he’s not careful.
But he doesn’t seem to care.
He goes back for another hard punch, pounding into the wood ’til it seems like it’ll break before he does.
“Stop it!” I yell at him. “You’ll hurt yourself!”
He rounds on me in an explosion of heaving breaths and pulsing, furious energy.
I take a step back, unsure what to make of him.
“How fucking dare you!” he roars at me. “You think so little of me, you think I’m just gonna stand by as that shit goes down!? I’m just supposed to ignore what was happening?! I shouldn’t be angry that trash was gonna put his hands on you whether you wanted it or not?! HE CALLED YOU OUT OF YOUR NAME!”
The last roar is the loudest. It’s so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if the people in neighboring towns heard.
I force myself to stand my ground, though the ferocity of his scream shakes me. It rocks me to my core.
It’s raw and full of pent up emotion.
Some kind of coded confession if there ever was one. I might not know what, but I know it is…
“Mason…”
“Let’s get something straight right now.” He backs me up against the bar counter in quick, powerful strides that make me submit without thinking. “I might be a fucking asshole,” he growls in my face once he has me cornered. “I might piss you off. I might hurt your feelings. But I’m never going to stand for anybody coming around and hurting you. I will rip their fucking guts out if they try. And you can be damn sure I won’t apologize for it.”
I… don’t know what to say.
I can’t bring myself to look away. I can’t even sort out the meaning of this moment and why my heart feels like it’ll bust out of my chest.
We stare intensely into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity. My shock comes off me in waves. Mason’s rage is the same, a hot firestorm that surrounds us. It lights me up and makes my skin flush.
I can feel his want. I can sense his need.
We’re combustible. It’s the only conclusion to draw as we find ourselves close, our bodies pushed up against each other, our faces practically touching.
Mason’s backed me up and I’ve done nothing to stop him. His angry breaths make my own stall. I struggle against the shaky beats of my heart and wonder if I dare to give in.
He must be thinking the same—the deep green hue in his irises darkens. They dip to my lips and his hands reach for me.
I help him the second it happens. As he draws me closer by the waist, I seek out his mouth. The result is a hard kiss born of desperation.
It’s a tangle of limbs and discarded clothes. Mason hoists me up onto the bar counter and devours me in another torrent of passionate kisses.