ETAN
As he passed Borsche he hissed, "Watch her for me, please, will you?" But he didn't stop when Borsche gaped at him. Just put his head down and plowed towards the doors. He had to get out of there. He couldn't look at her in the arms of some other man for another second. He couldn't hear her laugh echoing across the hall and not know what had given her joy.
He couldn't be touched by other women and play along as if it didn't make his skin crawl. His skin that felt too tight. Restrictive. As if it closed in on him and threatened his air-supply. His hands twitched toward his blade and he realized he actually wanted to cut a man down. Take the head of her father. Take the head of any man that touched her.
Rage made his heart pound and he shook with the effort to control it.
What was wrong with him? Why now? Why hadn't it been this bad before?
