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I kick my knee up, catching him in the back. He momentarily loosens his hold on my shoulders, and I take advantage. I flip us over, pinning him under me. He is tall and lithe to my brute strength, and though he fights, he is unable to exit my hold.
Furiously, my fist greets his face over and over until he is quiet and bloody underneath me.
Chapter 44
Viola
Aknockonthedoor sounds through the quaint basement home, and I look at Tulip’s sleeping form on the sofa with confusion. Could she have fallen asleep waiting for a visitor?
The knocks grow more frantic, and though I am not in the mood to speak to anyone, I wrench the door open to keep my companion from waking.
A sound of shock leaves my mouth when I see Mace leaning against the railing, bloody, bruised, and swollen on the stairs.
“Can I come in?” he drawls, voice thick with pain.
Wordlessly, I reach for him, wrapping my arm around his lower back and throwing his arm over my shoulder. I lead him into my sleeping chamber directly off the main room as quietly as possible. Gently, I lower him to the bed and then flick on the Bliksem-powered light, ignoring the buzzing sound that comes with it.
“Mace, what happened? Who did this to you?”
He groans and lowers himself to his back without answering me. I crawl next to him on the bed and, without thinking, lay my hands on his face, imagining ice growing from them. A chill shoots through my palms, lightly coating the underside of my hands with a layer of frost. I rest the ice on the most swollen parts of his face, and he sighs deeply. “Keep doing … whatever you’re doing. That feels really nice,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.
“Okay, but I’m going to take them away if you don’t tell me what happened.”
One eye flicks open, and he takes me in with scrutiny. I suddenly feel self-conscious about my messy hair, piled high on the top of my head, and the robe I’ve wrapped myself in for the evening.
“I’m sorry I came here, Viola. I know you don’t want to see me.”
His words make me wince, reflexively pulling my hands back. He groans from the removal of them. “Put them back, please.” Mace’s voice is weak, and he’s obviously severely hurt. Whatever anger I feel towards him is doused in worry for his wellbeing. I gently return my hands.
I hate to admit it, but I have wanted nothing more than to see him today. Despite the devastation I felt at the revelation of his words, I cannot manage to shake my growing affection for this man. If I had any doubt that something was changing within me towards him, seeing him bloody and broken just confirmed it.
I cannot get Mace Nightroot out of my head.
“I’m not going to ask you again, Mace. Who did this to you?”
Once again, he looks at me as if carefully considering whether or not to tell me the truth. “The truth, Mace,” I implore.
He slides himself up against the pillow, propped to be able to look me more directly in the eye. “Zeph did this.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, I realize I did not need him to tell me. Some part of me knew. This injury looks personal, the type of vengeance only a brother would exact. “What did you do?”
“I kissed you.”
The words are a slap in my face, another level of blame in the long line of injuries and deaths I am responsible for. “Why does that even matter?” I wonder aloud, not expecting an answer.
Mace groans as he tries to raise himself further, my hands slipping from his face to his chest. “He’s obsessed with you. He came to me in a jealous rage because someone must have caught our moment those nights ago.”
Our moment.
Despite the anger and despair Mace has caused to grow inside me, I still find myself thinking of that night with him when I am alone in the darkness of my room. “But there’s nothing between Zeph and I,” I insist.
He waves his hand. “It’s not my business if there is, Viola. You owe me nothing.”
“This couldn’t be all for just a single kiss, though,” I say while running my chilled hands down his chest and back up to his cheeks.
He shakes his head. “No, you’re right. That’s why I came here.”
I’m surprised at how quickly he seems to be healing, at least on the surface. The swelling to his face has already gone down significantly. “I want you to tell me all about it, but first, let me clean this blood off you. And get you some ale,” I add as an afterthought.
