Seeing Ashton wounded had shaken the very foundations of Charles's existence. He needed to restore some sense of order to his world, to reassert his strength and defense. He stood in the ring of Jackson's Salon practicing his boxing technique. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and dampened his hair.

He fought like a man possessed. Punch after punch, opponent after opponent, and still he battled on, ignoring his aching muscles. As he punched and ducked, all he saw was Ashton. Pale ...