Page 22 of Boundaries

His hooded gaze roamed over my body, taking in my PJs and I placed both my hands up to ward him off, but he batted my hands away and then grabbed me roughly by my upper arms. I inhaled, shocked by his rough treatment.

Mason then lowered his angry face into mine. Nose to fucking nose.

“What the fuck are you doing here Amy?” he growled down at me. There was blood caked at the corner of his mouth. I suddenly felt unable to voice a single thought, my head went into full-on panic mode. I could feel the pent-up tension cracking through his fingers as they circled my skin.

My mouth dropped open like a fish.

“And why the fuck are you wearing underwear outside, are you fucking nuts?”

My brow crinkled as I glanced down at my attire.

“I’m wearing my nightclothes,” I panted and then hiccupped.

“Same fucking thing. You may as well be naked.”

“Next up, Ryker and Jones!” a voice behind him boomed. Obviously, the intro to the next fighters. If he meant Jason Ryker, I knew Jason from school, but quickly shelved the thought. The announcement drew some of the crowd’s attention off us. I saw Boyd leaning against the steps up into the backdoor of their house, shaking his head at me with a sneer. The blonde close by was looking up at him with an adoring face. Silly girl, he’ll have forgotten your name by tomorrow.

“Amy,” Mason shouted down at me again, shaking me to get my attention. My teeth rattled. I felt like a silly little girl being taken to task.

“I was taking some pictures, for my collection,” I babbled nervously, flicking my head down to the camera which was luckily still safely around my neck.

He obviously hadn’t noticed the camera at first glance and his brow threaded as he peered down between my breasts. He then released one of my arms and started dragging me over towards the trees by my non-existent bicep. He took me to the gap where I had entered and I almost fell over trying to keep up with him.

“I’m sorry,” I puffed, afraid of being shouted at.

Mason was breathing heavily as we left the spectators behind, his steps determined. The drama of us was forgotten and the crowd started cheering again as new contenders entered the ring. I was then yanked around to face him, my hair swishing across my semi-naked shoulders.

“You’re bleeding,” I pointed out in a small mouse-like voice.

His lip curled cruelly, “No shit genius.” I flinched as his tone was so nasty.

Powering on, I questioned, “Do you ever lose a fight?”

He snorted, “Hell no, not anymore.” I imagined he was referring to his father.

“You should put ice on your face.” I got a sudden urge to soothe his injuries which was odd considering how I usually felt about him. He’d drawn my sympathy in the past but not so much lately, when our fighting had become more grown up.

This caused him to sneer even more. What? I was trying to be helpful as well as taking some of the heat off of course. “Honestly, or you’ll bruise more.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he sniped, his voice like a razor slicing into my better nature.

I pursed my lips, trying to control my breathing which was uneven but tight in my chest, “Are you OK, I saw that guy hit you,” I put in, trying to sound supportive. This seemed to rile him even more.

“He got one in because of you!” Mason shouted, releasing my arm to drag an angry hand through his tousled hair. He was so sweaty but his scent was musky and masculine, and that slight glow from the flickering flames near the arena, cast shadows across his muscled shoulders. His abs stood out, like they had been chiselled from stone and I suddenly wanted to run my fingers across them.

“I didn’t do anything,” I declared, rubbing at the flesh where his hands had grabbed me. It was throbbing.

“You fucking distracted me,” Mason hissed through even white teeth.

I released a shaky breath. Ah, well there was that. I remained silent as the guy had a point. He had been glaring at me when said fist had landed.

Mason snapped his fingers and held out his hand, gesturing, “Give me the SD card Amy,” he ordered.

I took a step back and shook my head and he advanced on me, “Now Amy.”

My back hit the rough surface of a tree and I had nowhere to go as Mason stopped directly in front of me, a tower of fury. I felt small and insignificant and severely pathetic, but if he thought he was taking my shots off me, he could think again! Photography was my life. It was very personal to me, and the only thing that made me happy. I wasn’t letting him near my work. I had a right to document stuff, he was just pissed off because he’d taken one in the face by my being there. I severely doubted he cared that I’d taken pictures of him.

Mason clicked his fingers again, “Give it to me Amy or I’ll take it from you and I can’t say I won’t damage your fucking camera.”

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