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Your first job is always to take care of yourself, because you belong to me...
Hell. He put his hand to his throat, realizing he hadn't taken off the collar he wore for her. He was lucky someone hadn't grabbed onto it and used the hold to beat in his face. He'd remembered to put the bracelet in his pocket to protect it and he fished it out now, staring at the back.
If lost, return to Lady Regina.
He remembered the voodoo doll, the two names on either side of the tag, and her observation about his tattoo.
"You're the skin over the armor, being ripped away. Duncan is the armor and the man beneath."
He rubbed his hand over it, over the kitten she'd had added to it. He thought of Dot, curled up and purring in his lap. Of Regina, her head resting on his shoulder, body vibrating as she laughed at something on the TV. Their hands, casually linked and resting on his knee.
So what did he want?
He wanted her. He wanted to be hers. Needed to be hers. He needed her to kick his ass, not take his bullshit or be afraid of him. He needed her. Lover, mother, friend...Mistress.
He'd told her he loved her, told her she was everything. He'd meant it as a good-bye, but it didn't have to be. She'd known that. She wouldn't let him go. She'd probably followed him, figured out where he was by some diabolical...
"Fuck." His gut went cold, fear stabbing him. Her phone was in his car, tucked between the console and passenger seat. He'd noticed it when he got out. He thought she'd maybe left it there last night, when they'd gone to a movie and then stopped at a diner for pie. She liked apple cinnamon and had shared half with him when he thought he'd only wanted coffee. But the pie was too good. Sharing with her made it even better.
She could use the phone to track him, would use it. And this was not a place safe for a woman. Not safe for anyone other than people like him. She wouldn't know that. She'd only gone to the one fight, and didn't know that they weren't all like that.
If he'd led her into danger...fuck. Grabbing his shirt, he ducked the organizer's muscle and slid down the hallway, headed back the way he'd come. He shrugged into his shirt as he went. He was probably being an idiot. His Mistress was smart. If she was here, she was safely sitting in her Mercedes, waiting on him with that baleful, you're-in-deep-trouble look that stiffened his cock. He was already hard, the way he always was after a fight. He could give his Mistress a lot of pleasure tonight...if she accepted his apology. And helped him figure out this mess in his head maybe one more time.
Or maybe it was time for him to stop relying on her for that. She could do that in session as part of what they could do for each other, but maybe he should consider the unthinkable. Seeking someone trained to help his fucked-up head, and ease that burden on her. That was his job, wasn't it? To serve his Mistress, to take care of her. Not make her carry more of the weight than was her due share of a relationship.
He couldn't just bury his past and hope it would stay that way. You couldn't bury a demon without exorcizing it. Siren had proved that tonight.
Christ, Marius. Are you finally growing up? While the thought came with rueful humor, there was a poignant, painful component to it, a fierce and quiet victory. It was time to let the ghost of the child he'd been go and become the man he should be. Regina had shown him that, made that possible. To honor that gift, he needed to embrace it.
Sisk's lanky dark hair framed his scarred brown face and red-rimmed eyes. He was smoking a cigarette and gestured with it as Marius came up. "If you're going out for some air, the boys are having a little fun with some cunt who claimed to be here for the fights. Just stay out of their way."
Almost before he finished the sentence, Marius heard a scream. High and thin. Enraged, afraid, and in pain.
A million memories crowded in on him, with the same effect on his senses as an ignition switc
h to a rocket. He hit the door like a battering ram and charged out into the alley.
When he'd come here tonight, he'd had a lot of pent-up rage to vent. That vat of anger was nothing next to the volcano that erupted in him now. He had his hands on the first man standing between him and the struggling group on the ground before he even remembered leaping. He rammed a rupturing blow into his kidney, broke his knee with one sharp kick, and sent him headfirst into a group of metal trash cans, with a loud crash and howl from the injured male.
He took in the situation with one red-hazed glare. Even with the help of two men holding her arms, the bastard on top had his hands full, trying to force himself on Regina. They couldn't secure her kicking and thrashing legs, and some of her attackers were already bleeding. She was a fighter, his Mistress. Not a victim.
"Knock this bitch out," the man had just snarled, a sound that turned into a yelp as Marius landed on him. Tearing him off Regina, he tossed him across the asphalt, spinning to plant his shoe in the teeth of the one trying to pin one of his Mistress's long legs. It sent him arcing back and hitting the brick wall. Then Marius was on the others, kicking, punching, drawing them away from her, engaging them with a roar of pure rage and determination.
She'd been defending herself so vigorously, he had to believe she wasn't yet badly hurt. If he could give her the opening, she'd be smart enough to run for the car. Then there was a crack on bone as the man charging him from his right went down. He glimpsed her standing over him with both hands gripping rebar. But there were too many. She needed to run.
"Get to the damn car," he snapped at her, and then he had no time for anything as he was shoved back, two trying to pin him so two others could whale on him. Fuck, he'd spent so much energy in the ring, whereas these assholes were fresh and souped up on whatever they'd been snorting. Why the hell had he come here? He never questioned taking money from these scumbags, but he'd endangered his Mistress. If anything happened to her...
Adrenaline helped him tear himself out of their hands. Vicious satisfaction flooded him as a wrist bone snapped under his grip. The subsequent shriek of pain gave him even more strength.
He was in a blind haze of fighting, pummeling and snarling when another man was yanked off him and he realized unexpected reinforcements had arrived. Tyler dropped the guy with a blow to the chest that the bettors inside would have loved, particularly when the guy didn't get up. Marius instinctively went back to back with him and they faced down the remaining crew. More had come to join the fight, goddamn it all. Regina was at his side, the steel bar clenched in both hands, her eyes flaming like an Amazon warrior.
Fuck, he loved her. He didn't want her to be here, but she'd told him plenty of times, hadn't she? He didn't give the orders in this relationship. The only choice he had was to take out the rest of these assholes so not another one of them got near her. Fortunately, Tyler seemed to be on the same page.
Over the next few moments of intense hand-to-hand combat, Regina stayed in that ready position, her eyes darting, body tense, but no one got close enough. Marius made fucking sure of it. Tyler might have had something to do with it, too.
When the last body dropped, and all that remained were unconscious, groaning or fast-retreating men, Tyler gripped her arm and gestured to Marius. "Come on," he said, his tiger eyes sharp and cool as frost on an amber blade. "We need to be out of here."
No disagreement there. Marius hated that they had to drive separately. Regina seemed in good enough shape to get into her vehicle, though he worried she was running on adrenaline and might be worse off than she seemed. Tyler was right, though. Neither they nor their vehicles needed to be here.
