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Marguerite reached out to hold his arm, but he pushed away, rougher this time, a warning. "You've always been just as fucked up as I am," he told her cuttingly. The pain of that truth swamped him. "You know I need to go."
"I know that's what everything inside you is telling you that you need to do," she said neutrally. "But it's wrong. You won't fix it until you stand in front of a mirror and stay there, as long as needed to fix the problem. You learned to look in that mirror with a Mistress by your side, but to deserve her, you have to do the scary part. Look in that mirror by yourself and see what's not fucked-up. What's worth saving. You."
She moved away, and he realized she'd bought Regina enough time to catch up with him. Stifling a curse, he marched into the locker room area, not at all surprised when his Mistress followed him.
Regina sat down on a bench as he yanked open his locker and pulled out his clothes. She didn't say anything as he stripped off the thong and put on underwear, jeans and a T-shirt. He stuffed his feet into socks and shoes. But when he closed the locker, she rose and put her arm in front of him, blocking his exit.
"What do you want from me?" he demanded. "I can't be it."
"Yes, you can. You are. But the real question is what do you want for yourself?" She caught his face in both hands, forcing him to look at her. He should shove away from her as he had Marguerite, but he couldn't seem to make himself do that. He had to curl his hands into fists not to clutch her wrists, bruise, manacle her to him forever.
"If you didn't want anything for yourself," she said, "if you weren't willing to fight through the demons to get it, then I would want nothing from you. But I know you're a formidable fighter. You've just always fought for and against the wrong things. And you're not going to go fight now. You're not in the right frame of mind. You could do yourself or others real harm."
"You think?" he snapped.
Her expression went hard and cold. She was going to get all badass Mistress on him, and he didn't want to feel the eagerness rise in him for that tough hand. It would fucking tear him apart, what he wanted eclipsed by what he didn't deserve.
It was as Marguerite had said. Maybe she'd meant it another way, but it boiled down to this. Was he only worth something if Regina was riding herd on him, taking care of him, being his warden? If so, she didn't deserve to have that shit dumped on her, and he couldn't handle the idea that that was the best he could do, all he could be for her. She deserved...everything.
"You're not going," she said firmly, stepping toe to toe with him. Though he knew the concerns and genuine caring driving her, it merely emphasized his demoralizing thoughts.
"I. Don't. Need. A. Fucking. Keeper." He snarled it, punctuating each syllable by hitting the locker next to her with his closed fist. She flinched at the first blow, her body and face so close to the shadow of his rage, but then she locked it down and kept her expression frozen as he dented the metal with impressive force. It wasn't enough. It just made the violence rise even more. Fuck it. He had to deal with what was inside him, and there were two sure ways he knew how to do that. He wasn't going to risk her with the way she'd taught him to prefer.
Tal had gotten him on the roster for a fight downtown tonight. A shadier crowd than he usually dealt with, but good money. He could use that money to get out of town. Keep driving and driving and driving.
He pushed down a sudden absurd wrench in his chest when he thought of Dot waiting for him to come home. Regina would love and take care of the kitten. They'd take care of each other.
"You do need a keeper. Especially if the only solution you can come up with is running," she said shortly.
He curled his lip in a sneer and moved past her. She wrapped her arms around him so he'd have to physically dislodge her to leave. She felt so good, everything he needed to feel...right. But none of that came from inside him, did it?
He turned them, using his strength to overpower her, to shove her against the lockers, hold her there with her wrists pinned, his body pushed between her legs so she couldn't kick him. The brief flash of surprise in her face didn't come with panic, thank God. If he ever frightened her like he had Siren, he'd just kill himself. But he put his mouth to her throat, to the pulse there.
"I've always been stronger physically," he said against her skin. "You're stronger in every other way, all the ways that count. You're everything. I love you, Regina. I love you so fucking much. Enough to let you go. Don't follow me."
He pushed her away and left the locker room, aware of Marguerite still standing outside the door. Good. She'd be there for his Mistress. There was nothing he could give her, and the burning of his gut, carrying Regina's knowing yet stricken look with him, told him she'd given him everything.
Marguerite entered the locker room right after Marius stormed out of it. She found Regina on a bench, bent over double. She hurried to her side, concerned, but the woman straightened, drawing a deep breath. Although she had tears on her face, her eyes blazed with russet fire. "Where is that bitch?"
"Somewhere you shouldn't be right now," Marguerite said wisely. "Where's he going?"
"Probably to one of his damn fights to get his head beaten in. I dropped my phone in his car on the way in here. I'll give him enough time to get there and then call my locater service to find it for me and go after him. Where is she?" she repeated. "Tell me, or I will tear this fucking place apart to find her."
"If it wasn't right for her to go after Marius for revenge, it's no better for you to do the same."
Regina closed her eyes. "Sure, be fucking logical. Goddamn, Marguerite. How the hell did she know who his father was?"
But she already knew the answer to the question. Siren had likely been obsessing about Marius since their ill-fated night. Siren was a wealthy woman with deep pockets. If she'd wanted to dig up dirt she could use against him, it wouldn't have been outside her means. Maybe she'd even picked up a hint from the news reports of Larabee's execution, where they'd shown full color pictures of him when he was in his twenties. The resemblance to Marius was chillingly remarkable.
"Does she have any idea what can of worms she broke open tonight?" Regina demanded. "We were getting closer to him realizing he needs counseling. I could see him starting to figure it out, knowing he and I could only go so far." Renewed fury surged through her. "Sorry, I don't care how fucked up she is. I'm going to go fuck her up worse."
Marguerite sat down on the bench next to her, putting a restraining hand on her forearm. "Terry called Tyler and the other owners, and the club has been closed for the night. They're clearing it now, and Alex was told to wait for Tyler's arrival in his office. This is a very serious situation, and they'll get to the bottom of all who were involved in it. They will handle that. Your job is Marius. Take a breath. You said he's made progress. Something like this, as horrible as it seems at first, can help."
"Yeah, maybe. Or it can go completely to shit."
Marguerite ran a light hand down her back. "You love him."
"Yeah." Regina snorted. "He loves me, too. Told me right before taking off. Stubborn ass. Men. Dumbass men."
