Fuck, that hurt. Marek was sure his healers would have recommended against him fighting, and in a different mood, he was sure Melinda would have cared more about that than he did. Since she didn't, though, he was determined to care even less. It wasn't as if he was unaccustomed to pain, after all.
He was still targeting her face, more for the purpose of leaving the visual of more bruises and scratches there than because he wanted to hurt her. She'd made it obvious that her vanity was a weak point, so it was her own damn fault that he was aiming for it. His expression showed nothing but anger and contempt for the way she was dealing with it, although there was a part of him that was pleased by the fact that she was on the offensive right now, rather than being the cringing, near-catatonic person he'd been dealing with lately.
But he wasn't going to just let her get away with kicking and elbowing the shit out of him, either. He lifted one leg to block the kick with his knee - not that it felt amazing landing there, either - and swung one fist hard toward her gut.