Page 113 of Lavender and Lightning

forty-nine

Rhett

Atthesoundofmy voice, Darren whips around, teeth bared in a snarl. But my eyes are on Lydia’s face. There’s a dark red spot suspiciously shaped like fingers on the cheek I can see, and my vision goes red. The only thing stopping me from flying into a full rage is years of training. There’s a weapon in play, and going straight to fighting would be a mistake.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Darren snaps.

“When you’ve got your hands on my omega, it absolutely does concern me,” I return, low and dangerous.

Darren’s eyes flash, and I see my opening. I shift my weight as I step forward, planting my feet and setting my foundation. I’ll try not to enjoy this too much.

“I was told you were an alpha. But all I see is a limp-dicked rapist coward,” I sneer, smirking.

Just like I’d expected, he lets go of Lydia to face me. He doesn’t move enough to give her room to escape yet, but at least she can breathe.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he growls, adjusting the knife in his hand.

I don’t take my eyes off it for long, the situation too unpredictable. But I’ve been on the other side of this sort of goading enough times to know how to play the game.

“You fucking heard me, or are your ears as defective as the Tic Tac between your legs?” I reply, throwing in a scathing laugh for effect.

Lydia’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have. All of my muscles are coiled tight, preparing for the fight. I try to tell Lydia with my eyes that she should make a break for the door as soon as it’s clear, but I don’t know how effective I am when I don’t dare take my eyes off the volatile alpha with a knife in front of me.

Darren advances on me, trying to go nose to nose with me. My snort of amusement isn’t for show as I realize the top of his head only comes up to my eye level. He tries to puff his chest and get in my face, but it’s hard to find someone you literally look down on seriously.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve trying to lay claim on someone else’s omega,” he says, the low growl in his throat less threatening now.

“You talk a big game for someone who is only breathing right now because I value keeping my word over teaching you a lesson in manners. But keep pushing me. See how well that works out for you. I dare you,” I say, leaning down to truly look him in the eye as I speak.

Out of the corner of my eye, Lydia shifts slightly, trying to edge toward the door. My eyes flick away for less than a heartbeat, but that’s all it takes. Because we’re so close, I don’t have time to react as he lets out a roar. Almost in slow motion, his arm cranks back, and then there’s a blinding flash of pain in my left leg. I look down to the knife buried several inches in my thigh. My adrenaline spikes as the pain takes hold, and I manage to contain my shout into a snarl. But the coward drops his shoulder and barrels us both backwards.

My spine screams as it comes in contact with the vertical support of the stall, and I fall sideways through the door. I manage to catch myself before I crash into the toilet, but my left leg protests as I try to put any weight on it.

“Run, Lydia! Get to Caleb!” I shout, words echoing off the tile walls.

Darren whips around as I hear movement, and I seize my opportunity. I get my right leg under me and use the momentum to drive my body forward, grabbing Darren’s jacket lapel to bring him back around to face me and swinging my other fist in a hard cross. The crack of bone under my fist sings to the violent side of my soul, and I can’t help the feral grin that creeps across my face as I move with Darren. I follow him back, landing blow after blow as I drive him out of the stalls and toward the sink. At the edge of my attention, I hear the brief rise in volume of the music as the door opens and closes.

Knowing Lydia is out of harm’s way, I don’t hold back, throwing punch after punch to Darren’s face and torso. He tries to strike back, but even with an injured leg, I have years of training and instincts on my side, so I’m able to dodge his sloppy punches. He stumbles back, grunting as his side hits the marble of the sink. I try to advance, hissing as my left leg takes my weight. Darren tries to lunge, but I duck his wild haymaker, elbowing him in the gut again.

He slips on something on the floor–my blood, I realize–and goes down to one knee next to the sink. Then I advance again, only to lean back as he tries to swing a decorative vase at me. I knock it out of his grip with a strike to his elbow, finally getting into his guard. Wrapping his tie around my fist once, I drag him back to his feet.

“You aren’t ever going to hurt my omega again, you understand me?” I growl, trying to push as much command as I can into my words. I wouldn’t count on a bark working against another alpha, but it’s worth a shot.

“She’s not your–”

I don’t let him finish before I slam the side of his head into the counter between the sinks, his shouted curse like music to my ears. I drag him back up to go nose to nose, not giving him a choice but to look directly into my eyes. I only have a few minutes to teach this bastard a lesson, so I don’t bother beating around the bush.

“Forget Lydia Anderson ever existed. This is your last warning.”

Darren looks like he’s about to protest, but I just grin. I grab a handful of his burnt orange hair and haul him up with brute strength alone. With a growl of pure primal violence, I bring his jaw down onto the edge of the counter. There’s a gut-churning crunch, and Darren slumps to the floor as I release him, out cold.

I step back and look down at my leg. I’d chosen to wear black for this exact reason. Something in me knew that I wouldn’t be escaping this evening without some sort of altercation, and I was, unfortunately, correct. There’s a bit of shine around the entry wound, but otherwise, no sign of blood. Gritting my teeth, I shrug out of my jacket, slipping my cell phone into my pocket before ripping one of the silk lining pieces away. I pull a few paper towels from the dispenser and lean against the wall, bracing myself.

If the knife hurt going in, that was nothing to the feeling of it coming out. It’s a pretty standard pocketknife, and the small section of serrated teeth hurt the most as I drag them free. The world grays out for a moment, but I manage to keep myself conscious. Packing the area with the towels, I use the bit of silk to hold them in place. It won’t hold for long, but it should hold until we can get to Lucas and possibly a first aid kit.

I push myself to my feet, knife in one hand, jacket in the other, then look to Darren’s limp form on the pristine white tile. The weight of the knife sinks into my palm, and my heart pounds against my ribs. At this point, my blood is everywhere, and I have a wound to prove that this could have all been in self-defense. If he were permanently removed from the equation, then would that be such a bad thing? What’s a little jail time compared to keeping Lydia safe?

But as soon as the thought fully sinks in, I reject it. I’m a lot of things, but a murderer isn’t one of them. And anything that would separate me from my omega isn’t worth it. I take a limping step forward and toss the knife on the floor next to him.

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