“Fuck,” I mutter, dumbstruck.
“And this one is for Marie.”
The man goes to punch me again, but suddenly Marcus is in front of me, blocking the hit and forcing the irate Alpha back. If someone doesn’t get between them, it’s going to be a nasty brawl. Two Alphas are already a nightmare to pull apart. But knowing that Marcus is secretly bonded to me? It’s going to make him twice as protective. I let my eyes close as I cup my nose, ignoring the shouts as best I can. Something wet and warm drips along my fingers and down my chin. I try to wipe it away, but it just keeps dripping.
“Cole?” It’s Marcus, I think. It’s hard to distinguish the quiet voice from all the commotion around me. And,fuck, my head hurts. “Shit, you’re bleeding.”
“Here, use these,” a quiet voice says.
“Thank God for women,” Marcus mutters. “How they can fit so much into those tiny clutches is a magic I’ve never been more grateful for.”
Something soft runs along my chin and mouth.
“I can do that,” I say, finally opening my eyes. “You’ll get blood on your suit.”
Marcus frowns and runs the tissue in his hand over my lips again. “I don’t give a damn about my suit, Cole,” he says like he’s offended it’s something he even has to say. “You’re bleeding after being assaulted. My suit is the least of my worries.”
“Paramedics are only a few minutes away,” someone else says.
I start to turn toward them, but Marcus forces me still with a hard grab of my chin and a lethal growl rumbling through his chest. It’s probably for the better, though. Just the small movement I managed has pain lancing through my head.
All at once, it feels as though people surround us—hotel staff and police and event organizers. They try to gently pry me away from Marcus even though it’s obvious he’s pissed about it. I wonder if the pain’s bad enough that he can feel it through the bond. He snarls at them and goes back to cleaning up my face with the borrowed tissues. His blue eyes are bright, nearly feverish, as they lock on mine again.
“Don’t make me go out the main doors.”
God, it shouldn’t be the first real thing I manage to say. It makes me sound like I only care about my image when I definitelydon’t. But if the photographers are still out there? Worse, if the paparazzi that are sure to be staked out to try and catch whoever ends up hooking upafterthe gala? Nightmareof my fucking year, and that’s saying something given just how awful of a spectacle my dads’ dissolution has been the last month.
“I won’t,” Marcus promises. It’s practically a snarl, though, all his anger riding close to the surface.
One of the security guards looks at me over Marcus’s shoulder. “We can get you out one of the side halls.”
The hall becomes overly crowded before I can figure out what else to say to Marcus. We went from shocked reunion in the bathroom to cautious interest while waiting to have our IDs scanned, to him cleaning up my fucking blood and probably ruining his suit.
“Marcus,” I try anyway.
He shakes his head, continuing to wipe at my chin. And then I can feel it, strong enough it overrides the suppressor: his frustration and vicious anger. He wants to fight that other Alpha. I can feel it in the way his muscles tighten with each passing minute, the way his hands tremble. But his need to make sure I’m all right outweighs the violent need.
“Paramedics are here,” someone says behind me.
In the span of three minutes, I’m seated on a bench someone managed to procure while a middle-aged blonde woman with soft green eyes and a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude cleans up the worst of the blood and packs my nose to keep it from getting any worse. Police seem to fill the hall, talking to everyone who saw what happened. I’m vaguely aware of Marcus standing only a few feet away, his arms crossed as he speaks with one of the officers, his anger apparent to everyone in the room. His suit, though, has managed to come out unscathed, so at least I don’t have that to feel guilty over, too.
“We’re ready at the back of the building,” another EMT says to the woman cleaning me up. He’s probably only a couple years older than me.
“Mr. Fallon, do you feel like you can walk?”
No way in hell are they taking me out in a stretcher, so I ease myself to standing and bite back the moan as the world spins for a moment. Marcus’s eyes are on me the entire time, tracking my slow movement across the hall and through the side entrance. It’s not until we’re on our way to the hospital that I realize I still don’t have his number.
Fuck.
Four
MEGAN
Charlotte leans onto her elbows, resting her cheek on her palm, as the nervous man slips away from our table, responding to someone grabbing his attention somewhere else in the room. The low drum of the pop music’s heavy bass rides the line of being too loud, so it covers whatever conversations are happening around us. Charlotte sighs and picks up one of the scattered petals on the tablecloth.
“He’s been gone a while,” she says, worry bleeding into her tone. She messes with the red pin situated at the top of her shoulder. She’s positioned it where her sleeveless dress gathers near her collarbone and gives the entire ensemble a Grecian feel.
Harper.
