the command at all. He still gripped Maggie tight, tight enough that she couldn’t pull in a full breath. She struggled against his grasp, panic rising.
“Let her go,” Ren repeated, and this time his words did capture Mark’s attention, because they weren’t being said over the music. The band had stopped playing, and now they all glared down at him.
Mark frowned up at Ren, blinking. “Mind your own business, buddy.”
“I am,” Ren said, his voice calm but hard. “Let her go.”
Maggie attempted to use Mark’s distraction to escape, again shoving at his chest, but despite his obvious drunkenness, he was quick. Quick and strong. She was pinned against him, his fingers digging into her rib cage. She made a small gasp, pain shooting from her ribs.
Discordant reverberations pierced the air as Ren threw down the microphone and jumped off the stage. He was instantly at Maggie’s side, moving so fast through the crowd that she barely registered his movement.
He was just suddenly there. And he was furious.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Ren growled. “She’s mine.”
Obviously the speed of his movement unnerved Mark as well, because he loosened his grip on her waist. Despite Maggie’s shock at Ren’s possessive words, she used Mark’s stunned reaction to jerk free, stumbling backwards away from him.
Ren took a step closer to her, his gaze darting to her, just long enough for Mark to lunge forward and throw a punch.
His fist caught Ren in the cheek.
Maggie screamed, but Ren barely seemed to notice the powerful blow, and caught Mark with a right to the stomach. Mark stumbled backwards but managed to keep his footing, then charged forward again. This time he missed Ren completely.
Ren landed a fist directly in Mark’s face. Blood spurted from Mark’s nose, and he staggered as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was or what had happened. He stumbled backwards, leaning heavily on a table.
Two other college students, apparently Mark’s friends, approached him. They didn’t even cast a look in Ren’s direction as they gathered up their bloodied friend and half carried, half dragged him from the bar. Going by their apathetic reactions, this wasn’t an uncommon end to the night for them or Mark.
Ren followed them to the door, watching them disappear into the crowds on Bourbon. Then he turned back to Maggie, striding towards her. He absently pushed his tangled hair away from his face as his eyes roamed over her.
“Did he hurt you?”
Maggie shook her head, fighting the urge to rub a hand over her mouth. “No. I’m fine.”
Instead she reached out and touched his cheek. A purplish bruise was appearing on his cheekbone. “But he hurt you.”
He caught her hand, pressing her fingers to his cheek. “I’m fine too.” Then he moved her hand away, releasing it.
She stared at him, not finding any words. Finally she offered him a small smile and admitted, “I don’t know what to say. This is kind of out of my sphere of knowledge. What’s the appropriate thing to say or do when a person gets in a fistfight for you?”
Ren stared at her for a moment, then a lopsided smile touched his lips. “I think you say thanks, then you throw yourself into said person’s arms.”
Maggie laughed. But she moved toward him, putting her arms around his neck, hugging him. His arms came around her, pulling her close. Maggie breathed in the clean scent of his hair, loving the solid feel of his body against hers.
“And,” he said, his lips close to her ear, his breath warm, “I think you kiss said person’s poor battered face.”
She pulled back slightly, offering him another small smile. “Really? Even if they ignored you all night?”
Ren pretended to consider that. Then he nodded decisively. “In this case, yeah, I think so.”
She smiled. Then surprising even herself with her boldness, she pressed a light kiss onto his bruised cheek. But before she could press more than one to the battered flesh,
“Let her go,” Ren repeated, and this time his words did capture Mark’s attention, because they weren’t being said over the music. The band had stopped playing, and now they all glared down at him.
Mark frowned up at Ren, blinking. “Mind your own business, buddy.”
“I am,” Ren said, his voice calm but hard. “Let her go.”
Maggie attempted to use Mark’s distraction to escape, again shoving at his chest, but despite his obvious drunkenness, he was quick. Quick and strong. She was pinned against him, his fingers digging into her rib cage. She made a small gasp, pain shooting from her ribs.
Discordant reverberations pierced the air as Ren threw down the microphone and jumped off the stage. He was instantly at Maggie’s side, moving so fast through the crowd that she barely registered his movement.
He was just suddenly there. And he was furious.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Ren growled. “She’s mine.”
Obviously the speed of his movement unnerved Mark as well, because he loosened his grip on her waist. Despite Maggie’s shock at Ren’s possessive words, she used Mark’s stunned reaction to jerk free, stumbling backwards away from him.
Ren took a step closer to her, his gaze darting to her, just long enough for Mark to lunge forward and throw a punch.
His fist caught Ren in the cheek.
Maggie screamed, but Ren barely seemed to notice the powerful blow, and caught Mark with a right to the stomach. Mark stumbled backwards but managed to keep his footing, then charged forward again. This time he missed Ren completely.
Ren landed a fist directly in Mark’s face. Blood spurted from Mark’s nose, and he staggered as if he wasn’t quite sure where he was or what had happened. He stumbled backwards, leaning heavily on a table.
Two other college students, apparently Mark’s friends, approached him. They didn’t even cast a look in Ren’s direction as they gathered up their bloodied friend and half carried, half dragged him from the bar. Going by their apathetic reactions, this wasn’t an uncommon end to the night for them or Mark.
Ren followed them to the door, watching them disappear into the crowds on Bourbon. Then he turned back to Maggie, striding towards her. He absently pushed his tangled hair away from his face as his eyes roamed over her.
“Did he hurt you?”
Maggie shook her head, fighting the urge to rub a hand over her mouth. “No. I’m fine.”
Instead she reached out and touched his cheek. A purplish bruise was appearing on his cheekbone. “But he hurt you.”
He caught her hand, pressing her fingers to his cheek. “I’m fine too.” Then he moved her hand away, releasing it.
She stared at him, not finding any words. Finally she offered him a small smile and admitted, “I don’t know what to say. This is kind of out of my sphere of knowledge. What’s the appropriate thing to say or do when a person gets in a fistfight for you?”
Ren stared at her for a moment, then a lopsided smile touched his lips. “I think you say thanks, then you throw yourself into said person’s arms.”
Maggie laughed. But she moved toward him, putting her arms around his neck, hugging him. His arms came around her, pulling her close. Maggie breathed in the clean scent of his hair, loving the solid feel of his body against hers.
“And,” he said, his lips close to her ear, his breath warm, “I think you kiss said person’s poor battered face.”
She pulled back slightly, offering him another small smile. “Really? Even if they ignored you all night?”
Ren pretended to consider that. Then he nodded decisively. “In this case, yeah, I think so.”
She smiled. Then surprising even herself with her boldness, she pressed a light kiss onto his bruised cheek. But before she could press more than one to the battered flesh,
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