Page 103 of Sapphire Spring

“Is this what you fucking did to him?”

Pulse roaring in his ears, armstingling as if they’d become more raw energy than flesh and bone, Mason saw realfear enter Chadwick’s expression for the first time since he’d crossed thethreshold. But it did nothing to quell his rage. His skin was aflame, hisinjuries an afterthought. Every cell in his body felt flushed with freshoxygen.

I did it too,Mason thought.I’m just as guiltyas he is.He hadn’t been there, hadn’t shoved a fistful of dirt downNaser’s throat, but he’d opened the door, made Naser a target. Set the stagefor a moment that sounded a hell of a lot like rape. Sex turned brutallyviolent without warning, without consent, without Naser’s system of taps toindicate yes, harder, stop. What else could you call it? Mason felt as guiltynow as if he’d shoved that dirt down Naser’s throat himself.

Chadwick had to be punished.

Chadwick had to be crushed.

The guy rolled sideways off the broken glass, onto allfours, blood spotting the back of his shirt from where he’d landed. He startedcrawling for the nearest wall, one hand searching blindly for it. He was in badshape. His gym time had always been vanity driven, and his drug use hadn’tcontributed to his cardiovascular health.

A spare dining room chair was pushed against the wall nextto the sliding glass door. It was high-backed, with a heavy wooden frame andupholstered seat. It was heavy, but Mason’s rage felt like it could overcomegravity. When he picked the chair up by two of its heavy wooden legs, he heardNaser call his name, sounding breathless and terrified.

ScaringNas,a quietvoice in his head said. It didn’t sound like Banjo, the voice of his fears. Itsounded gentle and more encouraging. Like Shirley.

You’re scaringNas.Butit was a quiet underscore to the roaring voices of guilt and anger that toldhim Chadwick had to be demolished right there on his living room floor.

Gripping the edges of its upturned seat, Mason raised thechair over one shoulder.

“Mason!”Naser cried.

Chadwick spun, but he couldn’t get to his feet. His eyeswidened.

“Apologize,” Mason growled. “Apologize to my boyfriend.”

Chadwick’s laugh started as a wheeze and became a wetcackle.

“I’m sorry.” He let lose a wet, fluid-sounding cough. “I’mso, so sorry I won’t be on the guest list for yourfaggylittle fag wedding.”

Mason raised the chair. Then Naser was in front of him, eyeswide and streaming tears, hand out in front of him, fingers on his raised handtrembling. “Put it down.Please.”

Impossible to say he was defending Naser—avengingNaser—when the man was terrified and trying to stop him.

A dam was getting ready to collapse inside Mason. Behind itwas a lake of shame that would swamp the fires of rage that had been fuelinghim for hours now.

He lowered the chair without turning it right side up again,lowered it until the upturned seat was resting against the floor. When hereleased his grip, it fell over to one side with a loudthwack. Naserlowered his arm, then he turned to Chadwick. “Get out,” he said.

As if every muscle in his body hurt, Chadwick slowly hoistedhimself to his feet, one hand pressed against the wall next to him. Hecoughed—a miserable sound that suggested one of Mason’s blows had done seriousdamage to his throat or maybe his chest. Then he turned for the front door,hunched over and shuffling.

Once he was gone, once he and Naser were standing there,chests heaving with breaths as they listened to the Maserati fire up and thenpeel off into the night, Mason suddenly felt the pain of every blow Chadwickhad managed to inflict. He wanted to find salvation and comfort in Naser’seyes, but all he saw when the man looked back at him was fear, as if he’d beendragged around the room with them.

“Nas,” he whispered.

He reached for Naser’s face. Naser flinched, then grimacedas if the reaction made him ashamed. The sight leveled another blow against thedam inside Mason, leaving another, longer crack.I scared him. On the nightI was supposed to claim him, I scared him.Maybe it was the blood on hishands that had done it. No choice but to lower them to his side.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Naser had tried for abusinesslike tone, but his voice was shaking.

“I’m fine.”

“Band-Aids?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the cabinet above the sink.”

When Naser started for the kitchen, it felt like he’d doneso just as an excuse to turn his back on Mason. The adrenaline rush now madeMason feel unsteady. He righted the chair he’d almost used to kill Chadwick andsank down into it. After he managed to lift his head from his hands, he sawNaser searching the cabinet above the sink, coming up short.

“How could you not tell me?” Mason asked.

Naser froze and bowed his head, gripping an open cabinetdoor in each hand. “Seriously? You think I had some big, passionate affair withyour best friend? Is that what it sounded like to you?”

---