Now, I'd known Byron for the better part of a month. I knew his moods. I knew his highs and lows. I knew his condescension and his ego. I knew his annoyed and his grumpy. But up until that moment, I had never actually seen (or heard) him angry. And he was angry. It was in the set to his shoulders, the ticking in his jaw, the eyes shooting fire, his voice loud and mean. I actually felt myself shrink away from the sound as his eyes finally landed on me and he stopped dead.
"I heard..." I started, feeling the need to explain my presence.
But then someone walked out behind Byron that had my mouth effectively clamping shut. Tall. Blond. Leggy. Perfect in every stretch of the word.
Lyla.
He was having an argument... with Lyla?
My shock and hurt must have been all over my face because Byron's voice softened when he addressed me. "Prue..."
"It's her, isn't it?" Lyla shrieked as she moved out from behind Byron and I noticed for the first time that she was in a trench coat. Meaning, that was it. The sash had loosened and I could see a line down the center of her body, showing off her creamy, flawless kin from neck to just above navel.
"Lyla, I swear to fucking Christ if you don't..."
But I lost whatever he was about to say because, one minute, Lyla was across the room from me. The next, she was right in front of me, her arm cocked back. Then she swung forward and I was vaguely aware of Byron yelling out "no" before I felt the sting of her palm across my cheek, the power behind it enough to actually send my unsuspecting body flying. The center of me crashed against the jut of a stair, making my air hiss out of me as my hands slapped down instinctively.
"Matt!" Byron's voice roared as I looked up to see Byron drag the flailing Lyla back a step by her upper arms as she tried to lash out at him.
My hand rose to my face as the front door whipped open and Matt came flying in, eyes scanning the room, taking in the half-naked Lyla in Byron's hands and then me on the steps, my hand to my stinging cheek. Then Byron was shoving Lyla at Matt who grabbed her without question. "See Lyla to her car and off my property," he demanded and Matt nodded. Byron turned his anger to Lyla then. "If you ever so much as pass by my fucking house again, you will fucking regret it. Am I clear?" the cold, lethal edge to his voice was unmistakable and Lyla had little choice but to nod as Matt led her away.
The door clicked closed as I pushed myself up to sit off the edge of the stair. Byron had barely taken a step toward me when I shook my head. "I always thought women were being such babies about getting slapped. But this hurts a lot more than I thought it would."
"Babe..."
"I mean, if it hurts this much coming from a woman wearing six inch stilettos, I can't imagine..."
"Prue..."
"And I totally just fell up the stairs. That's supposed to be like good luck or a wedding or something like that, right?"
"Baby," he said, his voice liquid as he knelt in front of me. It was the first time he had ever called me that and it effectively shut up whatever weird, rambling craziness I was spouting to cover my own hurt and confusion. "Look at me," he said, but it was more of a question and his hand didn't grab my chin like it usually did to force me to comply to the demand. And, well, when he asked like that, I was helpless but to do as requested. My face lifted to find him watching me, his face soft, his lips parted slightly. "Fuck," he said, raising his hand to place on my stinging, hot-feeling cheek.
"Bad?" I asked, pretty sure it was an impressive shade of red.
"It'll go down in an hour or so," he promised.
"Byron," I asked, the craziness of it all making me a little bold, "what was she doing here?"
"She wanted to go another round," he answered immediately, not even a thought to evasions or lies.
"Another round?"
"She wanted to fuck again."
"Right," I said, nodding tightly, feeling his words confirm the twisting feeling of my stomach.
"Babe," he said, ducking his head a little to catch my eyes again. "No. Hell fucking no. I didn't touch her. I didn't even think about touching her. When I said I didn't want to share you, I meant that I wasn't going out and fucking anyone else either."
"You expect me to believe that she just came here, completely unbidden, and threw herself at you?"
"Believe it or not, it's the truth," he said, shrugging. "You remember in the cabana when I told you that there are some women who like to be used?"