Page 93 of Snitches and Serpents

Pressing my back against the metallic net behind me, I raise my hands in front of me and shake my head. “No. Please. I didn’t mean to?—”

“To what?” He stops right in front of me, so close that he’s almost touching me. Lifting a hand, he takes my chin in a firm grip. “Did you really think that you could just come in here and?—”

The rest of his sentence is abruptly cut off as he’s yanked away.

I jerk back in surprise as he stumbles across the mat from the force of the throw. Then my mouth drops open as I see who was responsible for it.

Tristan.

“Back the fuck off,” he snaps.

I stare at him. He is only wearing a pair of black shorts and a set of trainers, as if he was about to start sparring as well. His tattoos shift as he flexes his hands, and his green eyes are burning with rage.

The guy in front of him stumbles to a halt and then straightens. Outrage flashes across his face as he scowls at Tristan. “Hey, what the hell?”

“Do not touch her,” Tristan growls at him.

Disbelief pulses across the guy’s face. Puffing up his chest, he storms back towards Tristan and shoves him. “Who the hell do you think you are? Huh?”

Tristan responds so quickly that I barely have time to see it. One quick strike to the face and another to his solar plexus, and then the guy collapses to the ground in front of Tristan’s feet. Tristan kicks him in the chest, making the guy flip over on his back.

Cold fury burns in Tristan’s eyes as he places his foot on the guy’s throat and presses down. The guy, who has barely had time to recover from the three previous hits, snaps his gaze up to Tristan. Alarm flashes in his eyes, and he reaches his hands towards Tristan’s ankle to get his foot off his throat. Tristan just pushes down harder.

“If you ever so much as look in her direction again, I will fucking kill you,” Tristan says, his voice dark. “Understood?”

Since the guy can’t speak with Tristan cutting off his air like that, he just nods frantically instead.

Tristan takes his foot off his throat and kicks him hard in the side. “You’re lucky I didn’t break your fucking hands.”

Then he whirls towards me.

I flinch at the intensity of his stare.

Stalking forward, he grabs me by the arm and then drags me out of the fight cage. I stumble along beside him as he hauls me out of the gym and into a side alley outside the building. I try to yank my arm out of his grip, but his hand is like a steel band around my arm.

When we reach a secluded spot where we can’t be seen from either side, he throws me up against the wall and then gets right into my face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands.

I drag in unsteady breaths as I stare up at his furious face. My head spins. I try to formulate some kind of answer, but all I can think about is his words from in there.

Back the fuck off.

Do not touch her.

If you ever so much as look in her direction again, I will fucking kill you.

Tristan slams his palms against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in, and then leans down until I can feel his breath against my lips. His eyes still crackle with lightning as he snaps, “Answer me.”

God, I can’t think when he is this close.

“I, uhm…” I begin, scrambling to get my brain to work again. But instead of finishing the sentence, I blurt out, “Why did you protect me?”

Something, some kind of emotion, flickers in his eyes for a second. But it’s gone so quickly that I can’t even begin to decipher it.

Blowing out an annoyed sigh, he pulls back a little. It’s enough for his breath to no longer caress my lips, which helps my scattered mind to recover a little.

“Because some of the people here are dangerous,” he replies. Drawing his eyebrows down, he locks a hard stare on me. “You shouldn’t follow me.”

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