Page 29 of Bad Attitude
She’s so damn fast, brutal, and full of fight.Feralis the right word. God, but I love it.
I shouldn’t be this turned on in the middle of a fight. And yet.
I go for my own jacket, but don’t get there before a big guy intercepts me. His teeth are bared, whites of his eyes showing, and he’s as wide as he is tall. He goes for a grapple, both arms wrapping around me, and that doesn’t leave many options. I take the simple one, smashing my forehead into his face. His head reels back, and I get an arm between us, jamming the heel of my palm under his chin. That gets him off me.
A pool cue smacks into the back of his head, snapping in two. The guy goes down, and Genesis is behind him, holding the broken shaft. She throws me a grin. “Great first date, Romeo.”
That holds some promise, even if we didn’t get the game finished.
Swiping my jacket off my chair with one hand, I hook the other around her waist, pulling her out of the path of a man who goes flailing back, another guy barreling into him. The fight has moved on from the pool table area, and now the whole bar is embroiled in it. There’s a crush of tussling bodies between us and the door, and we’re pinned against the wall.
“This way!” Genesis says, grabbing my hand. Hers is so small within mine, and her knuckles are bleeding. But I follow as we run down the line of the wall, kicking the occasional table out of our path, and duck through a corridor that’s marked for the toilets. But she goes straight past those doors, hitting a fire exit at the end, and it deposits us back outside.
It’s dark now, and we’re in an alley somewhere. Dumpsters nearby stink the air up, and we move away, toward the road.
I check behind us. A few guys are running on the street, but they’re fleeing, not following. No one’s coming our way.
Genesis pulls her jacket on, her eyes reflecting the streetlights as she turns to me with a breathless laugh. “That was fun.”
The bruise on her cheek is red and fierce, and I pause beneath the next light, making her stop too. I lift her chin with a light two-fingered touch, turning her head so I can examine it. I do it without thinking, but she doesn’t object. She lets me.
“Gonna take a quick look,” I tell her. “Keep still for me, you little hellcat.”
“Hellcat?” she raises an eyebrow.
“Keep still,” I say again, running my fingertips gently down her cheekbone. It’s the most intimate touch we’ve had, and I do it watching her eyes, looking for the pain response that’ll tell me if the bone’s fractured.
My touch lingers longer than necessary. I don’t know if it’s just being this close to her, the myriad subtle colors buried deep in her chestnut eyes, or the pain that fills them, but damn, it’s intense. She looks so vulnerable when she’s in pain, and God help me, I want more of it.
My pulse is still running fast with the adrenaline of the fight, but it jumps up another notch. She feels it too; I can tell from the subtle signs. The catch of her breath, and not with a wince of pain. The ways her eyes widen. The slight parting of her lips.
I don’t want this moment to end, but I can’t keep touching her cheek, even if I do like the way the hurt reflects in her gaze.
You’re twisted.
Her cheek is badly bruised, but I can’t feel any bumps or ridges. Not broken then, and I drop my fingers in both relief and reluctance. “You’re good.”
“So are you.” She takes my hand in hers and turns it over, examining my split knuckles. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Places.” I shrug. Then decide to tell her; she’s going to find out soon anyway. “Marines.” I tilt my head. “You?”
“Bars.” She gives a self-deprecating smile. “I seem to get in a lot of trouble.” She tugs me back towardour bikes. “Come on.”
“Trouble? You?” I say as we walk. “Hard to believe.”
“Was that sarcasm, Romeo?”
“No, but you fight too damn good just to have picked it up naturally.”
“Someone once told me I score well for spatial awareness. Not so good with numbers.”
“Can you shoot?”
She glances at me. “Yeah. Pretty well, actually.”
I nod. “Makes sense. Bikes, guns, pool, knowing where to move. Kinesthesia.”
Her eyebrows go up. “That’s a big word for a guy like you.”
