Page 81 of The Beast's Heart

I punch out. He dances away from me, his own hands up in front of his face now.

“There’s really nothing between me and Adam. You’ve got it all wrong.”

His fist flies at my face again and I barely manage to dodge the punch. “Hands up! And that’s bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit.”

“I see the way you look at him. Like you can’t wait to get down on your knees and suck his cock.”

The crudity startles me enough that I drop my guard. Another punch to my shoulder. This one hard enough to hurt all the way down my arm.

I throw up my arms to shield my face as he rains more punches down on me. “You’re being ridiculous! Why would he want me when he has you? I’m the beta remember?”

“That’s an excellent question.”

The punches ease up for just a second and I peek through my hands just as I feel the impact of his fist crashing into my gut. I gasp. This isn’t right. This isn’t a lesson anymore.

“Geoff! Stop!” I gasp. He doesn’t stop. He throws a hook at my temple that I just manage to parry before a jab comes for my jaw. As I defend the assault on my face, he goes for my stomach again. I stumble backwards, trying to get away. “Geoff! He doesn’t want me!”

“Bullshit. More bullshit.”

I’m right up against the ropes. I dodge to the side and try to punch him, but he leans back out of range. He’s got me cornered.

“I saw how he was with you yesterday.Years, I’ve known him.Years, we fucked. And I’ve never seen anything like that. So how about you stop bullshitting me.”

“He was just concerned!”

“Bullshit!” He roars and he slams his gloved hand into my belly again.

I double over, wheezing. “Geoff…”

“Stand up! Stand up and fight me!”

I try my best to straighten, more out of fear than anything else, and I hold my hands in front of my face in the defensive position.

“Hit me!” he demands again. He takes a few steps back, pounding his chest. “Come on! Be a man and hit me!”

“I don’t want to hit you!”

“Don’t be a pathetic beta. Hit me!”

A few things happen very quickly. The door blows open. I make an attempt at a right hook, reasoning he won’t expect that. He does, of course. And dodges away. And then he slams his fist right into my face.

I take the punch to my mouth. It has enough power that it snaps my neck back. Pain shoots across my lips. I taste blood. I scramble backwards away from him. He comes around for a hook to my jaw. It sends me into the ropes. Someone roars and I realize my eyes are pressed closed. When I open them, I find Geoff dangling. Adam has him by the neck of his Nike hooded tank. Geoff is spluttering, struggling to breathe. Adam’s face is scarlet, his neck is corded, his muscles bulge beneath his henley.

“You aredone here.” He tosses Geoff aside like he weighs nothing.

Geoff hits the ropes and rights himself. He stares at Adam, panting, eyes wide. “Calm down. We were just practicing.”

“Stay the fuck away from him. If you plan to live to see tomorrow, leave now.” Before he’s even done talking, he’s turning to me. I touch my mouth and feel wetness. My fingers come away bloody.

Adam takes my chin, his touch feather light, an absurd contrast to what I just witnessed. He looks into my eyes and turns my face gently from side to side, evaluating the damage.

“It’s not that bad,” I say.

“You’re trembling.”

“Not used to getting hit. Been a few years.” I give a weak laugh. “Should have considered that before asking Geoff to teach me to box.”

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