A Glimmer of Hope (The Avalon Chronicles #1)(6)

Rob looked Chloe up and down. “I could show that to you if you wish.”

Chloe’s expression was one of disgust. “Not for all the surgical gloves and antibiotics in the world.” She turned to her friend. “You okay, Layla?”

“I’m good,” Layla told her. “Blake. Go. Now. I don’t want to talk to you, or be near you, I just want you to leave.”

“I thought we could be friends,” he said.

“And I thought you could keep your penis out of other women, but apparently we’re both wrong. Good-bye.”

She turned to walk away, and Rob leaned over, grabbing her arm. “He said . . .”

He never got to finish that sentence, as Layla spun toward him, smashing her elbow into his nose, which exploded with blood. Rob staggered back and she punched him in the gut, doubling him over, then she drove her knee into his face, doing even more damage. Rob collapsed to the ground, his face streaming blood, as several bystanders began to scream, or cheer, depending on which side they’d chosen to support.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” Layla said.

Chloe removed a tissue from her bag and dropped it on Rob, as Blake and his friend stared in shock. “You need to clean yourself up, you’ve got a little something where your nose used to be.”

That was seemingly too much for the new friend, who swung a punch at Chloe. She moved quicker than Layla had ever seen, driving her fist into his stomach and immediately catching him in the temple with a punch that knocked the big man out cold.

“Is this really the kind of person you call a friend?” Blake screamed at Layla. “What the hell happened to you? You used to be sweet and . . .”

“Meek,” Layla finished for him. “You remember what happened when we split up and I went to leave the apartment? You remember?”

“I said sorry.”

“You barred the way to the door, and when I tried to get past, you raised your hand to me.”

Layla had never seen Blake angrier than she had at that exact moment, and the same expression was on his face now.

“Raise your hand to me again, Blake,” Layla said. “Go on, see what happens.”

Blake took a step toward her.

“I think we should go,” Harry said.

“It’s okay. Blake’s a coward, he’d never do anything if he thought I’d fight back.”

“This . . . dyke has you all confused,” Blake snapped. “She’s changed you. Probably trying to change everything about you.”

“Moi?” Chloe said. “That’s it? Calling me a dyke, that’s the best you’ve got?”

Blake stared at Chloe, and Layla shoved him hard in the chest, forcing him to step back and regaining his attention. “Rob got what he deserved because he placed a hand on me. The next time someone raises their hand to me, I’m going to break their arm. You ever come near me again, Blake, and you won’t find that meek woman who froze in fear. You’ll find the person who’ll kick the shit out of you and not think twice about it.”

Layla wanted to hurt him, wanted to make him feel how he’d made her feel. She knew she could. She’d played down how good at fighting she was around him because she hadn’t wanted to show him up while he trained. But that was done now.

Layla fought the feeling of anger as the three friends walked away into the night.

“You’ve been holding back,” Harry said to Layla when they were far enough away from the club. “I didn’t know you were such a badass.”

“What about me?” Chloe asked.

“I’ve always known you were a badass.”

Chloe laughed. “You’ve certainly never shown that level of ruthlessness at class,” she said to Layla.

“Lost my temper. I don’t like being grabbed.”

“What was that about Blake raising his hand to you?” Chloe asked, her voice hard.

“I’ll explain later. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

“Did that man really tell you not to use your kung fu on him?” Chloe asked Harry after several minutes of silence.

Harry nodded. “Racists never change.”

“Don’t you know several forms of martial arts?” Layla asked.

“And none of them are kung fu.”

The three of them laughed for the remainder of the walk to the closest taxis, where they split up to go back to their respective homes. But as Layla sat alone in the back of the taxi, she felt euphoric, buzzing from the excitement of her fight. She’d wanted to hurt him more, and Blake. She’d hoped Blake would raise his hand to her again. Last time she froze because she was terrified she’d hurt him if she allowed herself to. She looked at the blood on the knuckles of one hand; she hadn’t felt like this for a long time. She’d almost forgotten how good it felt to fight. Properly fight, not just spar.

Layla pushed all thoughts of the fight aside and went back to the other problem at hand. She’d seen Chloe move faster than she’d ever seen anyone move before. She shook her head; maybe she’d imagined it. By the time she got home, she was convinced it was the alcohol that had made her see the impossible.





3

Layla woke up without a hangover. Whether it was because of the amount of water she’d drunk when she got home, her age, or just the fact she’d sobered up after the whole Blake incident, she didn’t know; she just knew she didn’t feel like she’d been hit by a truck. And that was all that mattered.