Then I catch the shimmer of a single tear on her cheek. A mace cleaves my heart.
Fuck.I really do feel like a monster when she acts like this.
My focus shifts, my mind now hyperaware of everythingTrinity. I notice fresh red marks on her arms. The bikers grabbed her so roughly, the spots have morphed into bruises. Those join the scratches I caused, along with the other scrapes and minor injuries she accumulated today.
A Molotov cocktail of guilt explodes in my chest.
I can’t have her hurting like this.
Flipping on the hazard lights, I steer onto the crunchy, gravelly shoulder. Trinity doesn’t even flinch when I climb out and head around to the back of the SUV to grab the first aid kit.
Once I have the kit in hand, I march to Trinity’s side of the car, pull open the door, and crouch beside her.
First, I work on ankles scuffed with cuts and scratches. Then the scraped and bloodied knees under her jeans. Slowly and carefully, the way Maeve always was with me, I treat her injuries with betadine and antibiotic spray.
When I reach for a cut on her cheek, she slaps my hand away. I stand so I don’t lose my balance, as does she, shoving me back a step in the process.
She shoves me again, crying out with the effort, her voice drawing some guttural anguish from her core.
She doesn’t try to flee.
This is pure, focused rage rather than a struggle for freedom.
“You let them touch me!” She lunges, her nails poised to claw my face right off.
I dodge one swipe but fail to evade the next one. Her violent backhand swings my head to the side.
All right. I probably deserve that.
“Youwatched.” Her cry rattles me more than the sting of her slap.
Before she can come at me again, I capture her wrists, surprised by her feral strength. I’m bigger and stronger, but Trinity fights with the unpredictable furor of a cornered animal.
She kicks, aiming for my shins. When she tries to knee my groin, she even clips one of my balls. She focuses every ounce of her energy on hurting me, with zero regard for her own safety.
She must be past the point of caring.
Distracted by the beauty of her anger, it takes me far too long to push her back against the side of the car.
This time, I flatten my forearm across her collarbone like a crossbar, trapping her hands between our bodies.
We both pant, our breaths mingling in the cool night air.
Adrenaline thrums beneath my skin.
Her eyes, wild with hatred, appear blue in the dusk. Deep and wide like the ocean.
In the glass of the passenger-side window, I glimpse my reflection. My eyes are dark and opaque, but there’s a flicker of something new there too.
A glint of excitement.
Anticipation.
Trinity’s open defiance, her raw fire, isn’t just a challenge for me, but a thrill.
“You learned your lesson, didn’t you?” I pin her squirming body in place.
Her glare could incinerate a body in seconds. “Fuck you, you bastard.”
