“Baby,” he said slowly. “Let me see your arms.”
Fuck.
There was no way around it. Especially not now. If I had showed him right away, the bruises wouldn’t be quite as dark.
“I don’t want you to freak out,” I responded, not moving.
“The fact you’re saying that means that I’ve got something to be freaked out about,” he snapped. “Now show me your fucking arms.”
Though every feminist bone in my body told me to rebel against such a command uttered in that way, I slowly did as he said.
“It’s going to look worse than it is,” I warned, pulling my sleeves up. “You know better than anyone about how easily I bruise. But I saw Edmond at the grocery store today—which clears him of being the snake person. He made it clear he wanted to continue some kind of relationship with me. But I made it clear that most definitely wasn’t happening. I tried to walk away. He tried to stop me.”
That’s when I showed him my arms.
Kace stilled completely. His eyes zeroed in on the reddish-purple marks on my upper arms. He didn’t say a word. Not for a long time. But the energy that was radiating off him scared the shit out of me.
“He is fucking dead,” he whispered.
My blood turned cold, and I gripped his arm firmly, scared he was going to run off and commit murder right then.
“No,” I implored. “Kace, look at me.”
His eyes stayed glued to my arms. “He put his fucking hands on you, Lizzie. He’s made it clear he’s got no sense, no respect and no will to live.”
“You’re not going to kill him,” I repeated gently.
Kace’s eyes finally met mine. They weren’t full of fire or rage. No, they were cold and empty, the mask of the man who’d worn the same cut and a wedding ring for many years. Ranger wore that same expression when he came home covered in blood. When he tried to push me away. When he was preparing to do something that would stain his soul. He wore it on the night he died.
“He put his hands on you,” Kace repeated. “He did that, there’s a high fucking chance he’s responsible for the other shit too.”
“Honey,” I beseeched. “Think about it. Edmond obviously thinks of me as some kind of conquest, something that he wants only because he can’t have it. It makes no sense that he would want to try to kill me or torture me with snakes. It’s not exactly his style.”
“Men who want something special, want something precious and they know deep down that they never gonna get it, do shit that ain’t got nothing to do with style. Beyond that, this fucker is bad. I see that in him. No matter what kind of suit he wears or car he drives. Even if he didn’t do that shit, he put his hands on my Old Lady. He’s going to fucking pay.”
I wasn’t surprised by this. This came with the life. Though many people on the outside thought that Old Ladies were thought of as property, possessions, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
The men in the Sons of Templar cherished their women. Treasured them. Worshipped them. They took it as their personal responsibility to keep them safe. Happy. Unharmed. So when shit happened to put them in danger, hurt them, these men took it as a personal failure.
Losing Laurie had nearly killed Bull.
What happened to Bex had broken Lucky in a way that meant he’d never shine or smile quite the same.
Same with everything that had happened to Gwen, Amy, Lauren, Lily and Mia.
These men took the hits like they’d landed directly on them.
It was part of the MC code. Anyone who touched or harmed an Old Lady had to pay. I’d decided it was just the heat of the moment, Kace calling me that. That was something I could not handle right now.
“He will pay,” I promised. “Eventually. You can go and threaten him, punch him once if you must, and do whatever you gotta do. But right now, I need you to say here. With me. With the kids. We’ve had enough violence and hurt to last us for a long while. So how about we just try our best not to go and seek more out? It’ll find us soon enough.”
Kace did not look happy about this, all of his alpha instincts screaming at him right now. There was anger in him that needed to be released.
I led Kace to the couch, and he thankfully let himself be led. I moved to climb on him, straddling him. “For now, I’m sure you’ve got some energy you need to release, and I suggest you direct it at me.” I moved, grinding myself against him.
He hissed, his hands settling on my hips. Then his lips were on mine. And we channeled his anger into three orgasms.