The King(32)
As he landed on the mat on his back, the retching and heaving breaths of his opponent mixed with the curses of whoever else was with them—as well as a soft whimpering.
“What the fuck are you thinking!” Now someone else was in his face. “You nearly killed her!”
Putting his hands up to his head, a cold sweat bloomed over every square inch of him. “I didn’t know…” he heard himself say. “I had no idea—”
“Did you think she could breathe like that!” It was Doc Jane. Of course—she was down in the clinic and must have heard the barking or …
And iAm was with them. He could sense the Shadow even though the guy was as usual not saying much.
“I’m sorry—Payne … I’m sorry.”
Dear God, what had he done?
He abhorred violence against females. The problem was, when he was sparring with Payne, he didn’t think of V’s sister as one. She was an opponent, nothing more, nothing less—and he’d had the bruises and even a broken bone or two to show that when it came to her, no quarter was asked for nor given.
“Shit. Payne…” He reached out into the empty air, smelling the remnants of her fear as well as the scent that came with impending death. “Payne—”
“It’s okay,” the female said hoarsely. “Honest.”
Doc Jane muttered a number of foul things.
“This is between me and him,” Payne ordered her sister-in-law. “This is not your—”
As a round of coughing cut her off, Jane snapped, “When he nearly strangles you, it sure as hell is my problem!”
“He was going to let me go—”
“Is that why you were turning blue?”
“I was not—”
“His arm is bleeding onto the mat. You telling me your fingernails didn’t do that?”
Payne caught her breath. “It’s fighting, not Go Fish!”
Doc Jane lowered her voice. “Does your brother know exactly how far this is going?”
As Wrath added his own cursing to the fruit salad of F-words, Payne growled, “You are not to tell Vishous about this—”
“Give me a good goddamn reason why and maybe I’ll consider it. Otherwise, no one tells me what I can and cannot say to my own goddamn husband. Not you, not him—”
Wrath was sure she was shooting a glare his way.
“—and certainly never concerning a fucking safety issue about a member of his family!”
The silence that followed was marked by rising aggression. And then Payne barked, “How many bones have you set on the King? How many stitches? Last week you thought I’d dislocated his shoulder—and at no point did you feel the need to run to his shellan and report it. Did you. Did you?”
“This is different.”
“Because I’m female? Excuse me—maybe you’d like to meet my eyes when you use that double standard, Doc?”
Christ, it was as if his mood had infected both of them. Then again, his actions had started all this. Fuck …
Rubbing his face, he listened to them go back and forth. “She’s right.”
That shut them both up.
“I wasn’t going to stop.” He got to his feet. “So I will tell V and we are never doing this again—”
“Don’t you dare,” the fighter spat before falling into another series of coughs. As soon as she recovered, she went back to being in his face. “Don’t you fucking dare disrespect me—I come here to fight with you to keep my own skills up. If you took advantage of a weakness, that is my fault, not yours.”
“So you think I was just being hard on you?” he asked grimly.
“Of course. And I hadn’t tapped out yet—”
“Do you think for a second that would have gotten through to me.”
A fissure of fear charged the molecules around the female.
“And that is why we will never do this again.” He turned in the direction of Doc Jane. “But she’s also right. This is not your business, so stay out of it.”
“The hell I—”
“Not a request, Jane. An order. And I’ll go see V as soon as I’m out of the shower.”
“You can be a real prick, you know that, Your Highness.”
“And a murderer. Don’t forget that one.”
He started off in the direction of the door, not bothering to take George’s halter handle. When his trajectory got off, the dog course-corrected him by getting in the way and steering him to the proper exit.
“Locker room,” he grunted when they entered the concrete corridor.
George, familiar with either the word or the postworkout ritual, helped him navigate down the hall, his paws clipping along across the bald floor.