The Noble War// Tate Langdon

His Smile

Lylah's POV

"How are you?" He asked, menacingly.

"Better than you." I spat. He stepped closer to my face.

"You don't think I can call Chelsea again?" He said.

"It's not like I'd be scared." I sassed him. He stepped another closer.

"Maybe I can do it myself, it's not like I'd be hitting a lady." He smirked.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" I heard Tate yell. I turned my head to see him with a crazy look in his eyes. He made his way over to Jake and I and huffed almost against Jake's chest.

"What? Freak?" Jake said.

"Leave her alone." Tate said through gritted teeth. I'd never seen his so angry so close. "I've hurt people, I'm not afraid to do it again." He taunted.

"Yeah, right." Jake chuckled right before Tate pushed his knuckles against Jake's jaw. Jake was taken aback for a moment, but returned the hit. This caused me to squeal.

"Stop!" I yelled. I jumped between them, but not before Jake hit me "on accident." Tate lost it.

"You son of a bitch!" He yelled. He jumped on Jake and banged his head against the boardwalk. I stood there in shock before trying to pull Tate off of him.

"Tate! Tate stop!" I screamed.

"Not till he's dead! Not till he's fucking dead!" Tate said.

"TATE!!" I screamed. Tate snapped out of his little fit and looked at me. He looked at his bloodied hands and stood up. I held his shoulders while he caught his breath, every other inhale he'd ask:

"Are you ok? Are you ok?"

I was shocked at how caring he was, considering he'd almost killed someone not 2 minutes ago. I'd never seen him go so dark so fast. I should have been the one asking if he was ok. All I did was nod as responses to his questions. Tate looked me in the eyes. His were pumping with adrenaline and full of an emotion I'd never seen before. Pure, brutal anger. He was still huffing. I embraced him and his breathing slowed to an even pace. His tense posture loosened and he lightly enveloped me back. As my head was in the crook of his neck I looked at Jake on the floor behind him. He was coughing up the little bit of blood in his mouth. The back of his head was bleeding as well, scalp, not a skull injury. Thank god. I couldn't help but think that if I didn't pull Tate off, Jake may as well be dead. I pulled back from our embrace to see Tate, smiling. His smile wasn't the kind that makes you smile. It's the kind that make you want to back away slowly, then run. The kind of smiles you'd see in nightmares. It wasn't his usual smile he's use while lighting a cigarette for me and joking about how my mom really thought I would quit. Yet I didn't back up or run. I don't even make a sound.

I smiled back.