Iniquitous (The Marked #3)(40)

Blood splatter hit me in my face, snapping me out of my stupor. Panic-stricken, I jumped over the coffee table and landed on Trace’s back as I frantically tried to pry him off of Dominic.

“Trace! Stop it! What are you doing?” I yelled, pulling at his shirt from behind. But he easily shucked me off. “You’re going to kill him!” I screamed.

My warning only seemed to encourage him. He hit him harder and faster, never breaking once to give Dominic a chance to hit back. Pinned between the coffee table and the end of the sofa, he was in the perfect position to be on the receiving end of one of the most horrendous beatings I’d ever witnessed. Trace had lost complete control of himself and if I didn’t find a way to stop him right then, he was literally going to kill Dominic.

I screamed again, though this time with enough fear-driven force to yank Trace back far enough so that I could jump out in front of him. My arms shot out like a barricade. “Stop it! Please! Just stop!”

His arm was pulled back, frozen in the air as his hand stayed balled into a white-knuckled fist. He was shaking with rage. For a second, I thought he might not be able to control himself, that he might continue swinging despite the fact that I was now standing directly in his line of fire.

But he didn’t.

With his jaw muscles pumping savagely, he dropped his fist to his side.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” I snapped, ramming my hands into his chest. “You could have killed him!”

“Give me some credit,” said Dominic, offended. He was leaning back against the sofa, wiping blood from his mouth. “I could have taken him if I wasn’t so spent.”

“Spent, eh? Well, the night’s still young, dead boy,” seethed Trace, taking a warning step towards him.

I pushed him back again. “Stop it! He’s not the enemy, Trace! He’s not!”

He didn’t believe that for a minute. “If he’s not the enemy, then who is, Jemma? Who did this to you, huh?” His eyes sped over my body, his face wincing as he took in all the marks and bruises. “He was in on it,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “He was there—I know he was.”

“Yes, he was there,” I admitted. “But he was on my side, Trace. He was there to help me and it would have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for him.” I crossed my arms in an effort to hide the teeth marks on my wrists. “You have to trust me on this. You have it all wrong.”

“Then set me straight, Jemma. Tell me what the hell is going on!” He took a step towards me, his nostrils flaring from the adrenaline that was obviously still coursing through his blood.

I put my hands out to soothe him. “I’ll explain everything. Every single detail. But you need to calm down first. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Fine,” he snapped back, lightning-quick. “I’m calm, alright? I’m calm,” he said again, trying to keep his composure.

He so wasn’t calm.

“Trace. Please.” I pressed my hand against his chest and my body immediately hummed from the contact.

He lifted his chin, his brilliant cobalt eyes latching onto mine like magnets. Everything slowed down, faded out and his features instantly softened.

“There you are,” I whispered as I reached out and picked up his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. I missed you, I said to his beautiful mind so that only the two of us could hear.

He pulled me into him. Strong arms wrapped around my body as I buried my face in his chest.

“There’s isn’t a word for how bad I missed you.”

I couldn’t believe I was ever worried about being back in his arms. Sparks buzzed through my body, weakening my knees into jelly as I easily slipped back into the space as if I had never left it. He felt just the way I’d remembered him. And dear God, he smelled even better.

The world crumbled around us like it always did when we were together. There was no pain or fear, no threats of tomorrow. It was just me and him and it was all we really needed.

“Don’t you ever leave me again, you hear me?” he whispered into my hair, holding me tightly against him.

“I hear you.” And I did, because in his arms was exactly where I wanted to be until the day I took my last breath. If he’d have me, of course.

He pulled back and met my gaze, cupping my face with his strong hands. “Nothing in this world or beyond could ever keep me away from you, Jemma. Nothing.”

A smile tugged on the corner of my lips. His eyes immediately dropped to my mouth as the most beautiful look of want filtered through his iridescent eyes.

“So, are we just going to continue pretending I’m not in the room?” asked Dominic, clearly irritated by the sudden show of emotion that had nothing to do with him.

“Works for me,” said Trace without taking his eyes off me.

“Behave, Trace. Please.”

His beautiful heart-shaped lips hiked up into his dimpled cheeks. “Believe me, this is me behaving.”

Dominic grunted, though it sounded more like a growl.

I stepped back from Trace and turned to Dominic to bestow him with some snarky comment, but my comment and smirk quickly evaporated upon sight of him. While his cuts had nearly healed, he was still wiping blood from his face and his shirt. Something about it disheartened me. Seeing him there, standing all alone as he nursed his own wounds, sent a wave of guilt through my abdomen. I felt horrible for all the trouble I’d caused him. First with Engel, and now with Trace.