Shift (Shifters #5)(44)

Marc took one look at us—me naked and soaked in the tub, leaning around Jace to be seen, both of us probably looking guilty as hell—and the specks of gold in his brown eyes glittered with fury and bitter betrayal.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Twenty-Three
“Marc…” I said, and his gaze flicked my way. He took in the soaked towel I clutched to my chest in spite of the pain in my left arm, and the darkness in his expression swelled until I could almost see the edges of it emanating from him like an inverse glow.“Start talking, Faythe,” he growled from the doorway.
Jace bristled. “Leave her alone. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
Marc dropped my shirt and his fist slammed into Jace’s jaw before the material hit the floor. Jace stumbled backward into the counter, and his phone slid into the sink.
“Stop!” Water sloshed around me as I tried to push myself up with my left hand. But the pain was too much, and I dropped into the bath. More water splashed onto the floor.
Marc marched past Jace, anger roaring like flames in his eyes, and reached down for me.
“Don’t touch her!” Jace rubbed his jaw, his brows drawn low, and took a deliberate step toward us. His snarl was a perfect bookend to Marc’s. “You will not lay a hand on her until you calm down.”
Marc froze. Then he straightened slowly and met Jace’s gaze, looking both surprised and furious. “I would never hurt her. You know that.” He reached down again to help me up, and Jace growled.
The warning was too authentic to have come from a human throat. Startled, I glanced at Jace and realized that his eyes and canines—and evidently some part of his throat—had Shifted.
Oh, shit. I could practically taste his bloodlust, likely triggered by both Marc’s violence and Jace’s own overwhelming need to protect me. Until we calmed him down, he would be looking for a reason to attack Marc.
“Stand down, Jace,” Marc ordered. He kept his voice even and his hands within sight. With Jace so close to losing control—and with his teeth already Shifted—he held an obvious and dangerous advantage. If he attacked, Marc would defend himself, and there would be blood on both sides.
“Jace…” I said softly, and his cat-eyed gaze flicked my way. “Rein it in. He’s just going to help me up. I need help.”
“If his hand so much as twitches around your arm,” Jace growled, “I’ll kill him.”
Fuck. The first lick of true panic made every hair on my body stand on end.
Marc’s eyes went wide even as his brows dipped in confusion. He turned slowly to look at me—because sudden movements were a very bad idea. “Faythe…?”
But I couldn’t look away from Jace. Not until I’d talked him down. “No. Jace, you have to pull it back. I know you’re trying to protect me, but that’s not what I need right now. What I need is help getting out of the tub. Please. Pull it in. Shift now.”
Jace glanced from me to Marc, and his focus stuck there, though he still spoke to me. “Not until he moves away.”
Damn it! “Jace, listen to me. Marc’s not going to hurt me. He’s going to help me stand. I want you to reverse your Shift. Now.” 
Uncertainty flickered across Jace’s expression. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I nodded to punctuate my certainty. He took a deep breath, then closed his eyes—a huge show of trust on his part. Marc and I didn’t move. A minute later, Jace opened his eyes, and they were human again, as were his teeth. “Thank you.” I was proud of how calm I sounded.
The toms eyed each other warily. In the past three minutes, everything had changed between them. Jace had never stood against Marc before. Marc had never considered him a serious threat before. All that was different now, and I understood in some deep, dark part of me that there was no going back from this point. We were changed for good, the three of us.
“I’m going to help her up,” Marc said, explaining himself to Jace as he would never have done before.
Jace made no reply, nor any move to stand down, but his gaze flicked to mine, his brows raised in question. I nodded and he scowled, but stepped back.
Marc exhaled slowly, obviously trying not to look too relieved. He bent to lift me, careful of the talon-shaped bruises on my arms. His eyes were full of questions, but I could only blink in reply. I had no idea what to say.
Humiliated by my own dependence and vulnerability, I flushed as I held my arms up so Marc could wrap a dry towel around me. Then I let him help me from the tub, where the water had grown cold again. He knelt to pull the plug, wariness still obvious in his every motion. “Okay. Everybody ready to discuss this rationally?”
Jace remained silent, his fists clenched at his sides, so I answered for us both. “Yes. But can we do it while you work on my arm? We don’t have a lot of time.”
Marc’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
I sighed and looked over his shoulder at Jace. “Could you give us a few minutes? Maybe find a vending machine? I could really use some caffeine.”
“I got Cokes,” Marc said, ever helpful.
I ignored him. “Some ice, then? Please?”
Jace’s normally cobalt eyes darkened almost to midnight. “You want me to leave you alone with him?”
“Why shouldn’t you?” Marc bristled, and his voice took on a dangerous edge.
“Because you came in here throwing punches.”
“At you, not at her.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m choking on testosterone here, boys.” I was also freezing. “Marc’s fine now. Right?” I eyed him expectantly, and he nodded.
“But he might not be in a minute,” Jace insisted, eyeing me intently. I got the message: this was as good a time as any to make our confession and get everything out in the open.
But I disagreed. Strongly. Neither of them would ever hurt me, but they would definitely hurt each other if they were both in the room when I told Marc what had happened.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Marc demanded.
“Nothing.” I shot Jace an angry, censoring look over Marc’s shoulder. “He thinks you’re on a hair trigger. Because you came in swinging.” Marc started to argue—vehemently—but I cut him off. “Jace, please go get us some ice. And maybe I could use a little tequila, after all.” To ease the pain in my arms, and smooth out the upcoming Shifts. And to settle my nerves, which felt like they were about to short-circuit, and take my brain with them.
“Fine. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” Jace snatched his shirt from the floor where Marc had dropped it, tugged it over his head in a series of angry, jerky motions, and stomped out the door. Without the car keys. Evidently there was a liquor store within walking distance of the motel—no real surprise, considering what little I’d seen of the neighborhood.When Jace’s footsteps had faded from the sidewalk, Marc crossed the room and chained the door.
I sank onto the end of the nearest bed, wishing I could tighten the towel wrapped around my chest—or maybe dry my own hair—without exacerbating the pain in my arms. “That’s only going to piss him off.”
“You can see how much I care,” Marc snapped. He obviously no longer felt the need to be particularly civil, now that we weren’t in danger of triggering Jace’s latent, lingering bloodlust.
I sighed. “Marc, please. We don’t have time for this. You’re truly overreacting.” This time… My arms were killing me, but I was not going to use pain as an excuse to avoid the subject. That would be like flashing a little cleavage to get out of a traffic ticket.
“Good. What happened?”
“Nothing.” I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I can’t use my fucking hands, so he was helping me.” Shut up. You sound guilty when you cuss…
“That didn’t sound like helping, Faythe. Don’t lie to me. What the hell happened in there?”
I took a deep breath and sent up a silent thank-you for his blessedly restrictive phrasing. “We were just flirting. Joking around, like we used to. It was nothing, Marc.”
“Oh, yeah?” He snatched all three of the plastic bags from the table. “Then why is he acting like…like your fucking mate?” He gestured angrily toward the locked door with his free hand, since Jace wasn’t there to point at. “That wasn’t the reaction of a good friend. That wasn’t even the reaction of some poor fool with a crush. He’s acting…possessive.”
“No.” I shook my head. No. “He’s not acting possessive, he’s acting protective. Because you came in swinging. He’s an enforcer. Part of his job is to protect me, and he thought you were going to hurt me.”
“Only because he’s not thinking rationally. Because he thinks you’re his. If not up here…” Marc tapped his temple. “Then in here.” He poked his own chest hard enough to bruise, and I flinched.
“He’s always been protective of me. You all have. Hell, he stepped in front of a bullet for me, Marc. That’s no different from this.” That was true, but did nothing to assuage guilt so thick and heavy I could hardly breathe.
“The hell it isn’t.” He dropped the bags on the bedspread next to me but didn’t sit. “He’s never tried to defend you from me.”