Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

“I’m fighting Reese,” I heard Shay say. “Nobody touch him. I need my revenge from the cage fights.”

Tate didn’t take his gaze off me. “Kingsley’s mine.”

I winked at him.

“Okay, Aiko and I will knock out River,” Ella said.

River chuckled under his breath.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Reese reminded. “Gettin’ a little bored here.”

“We were waiting for a signal!” Shay argued defensively.

I sucked my teeth. “Zero initiative. How disappointing.”

“Extremely,” River agreed. “But hardly surprisin’. Brats are known for being lazy little shits.”

Tate rolled his eyes.

“Maybe they need a cadence to get them movin’.” Reese immediately began clapping to an easy beat for running. “C-130 rollin’ down the strip!”

River and I laughed and rolled with the punches, tapping our feet in the mud and clapping to the beat. “C-130 rollin’ down the strip!” we echoed.

“Airborne Ranger gonna take a little trip,” Reese continued.

“Airborne Ranger gonna take a little trip!” we repeated to the beat.

“Oh, fuck this.” Tate had had it with the goading, and he left the patch of solid ground and darted for me.

Let’s go, baby.

Shutting everybody else out, I braced myself for impact and hauled in a deep breath. Tate had a perfect, trim body; he wasn’t lanky, and he wasn’t bulky. Yet, he liked to throw his weight around as if he were a hockey enforcer.

That strategy robbed him of his energy too quickly, but it made for rough, vicious fights while they lasted.

He had five minutes before Reese’s watch would signal the end of the match.

I narrowed my eyes right before Tate closed the last distance. His next move was written across his posture and his expression; he led with his shoulder and clenched his jaw, so I sidestepped rapidly, spun on him, grabbed his arm, and yanked him back. Then I shoved him away from me.

“Try again,” I commanded.

“Arrogant dick!”

“Superior,” I corrected. “You mean superior dick.”

He let out a growl and came at me again, this time quicker on his feet, and he managed to ram straight into me. The thick mud became the enemy of split-second decisions as it gripped the soles of our shoes.

To the sound of Aiko’s and Ella’s war cry as they went up against River, Tate and I toppled over with him half on top of me, and I pushed him sideways before he could get any ideas. He wasn’t gonna get me on my back.

Tate’s fury rubbed off on me; it became my fuel and my drug. Paired with adrenaline, it suddenly felt like I was unstoppable.

In less than a minute, we were completely covered in mud. He grunted and kicked at me; I cursed and rolled on top of him. Stop kicking, you little animal. He drove me fucking mad. With a tight grip on his wrists, I forced them down into the mud over his head, but before I could immobilize him properly, he screamed out and kneed me in the gut.

“You—shit!” I groaned. I folded myself in half as the pain ricocheted through me, from one point to another, and it took me way too long to notice that Tate, the little son of a bitch, was digging through my pockets.

He actually managed to steal one, and he got to his feet when I could fight back again. I dove for him and grabbed his leg, sending him downward once more.

“I don’t fucking think so,” I grunted, crawling on top of him. He was on his stomach and sinking into a Tate-shaped hole in the mud.

“Let me go!” he shouted.

“Does that line ever work?” I reclaimed the glowstick and stuck it into my back pocket. Then I forced him to roll onto his back, where I finally had him trapped underneath me. Or I would—once I’d caught his hands. The fucker swung at me. “Quit it!”

“Does that line ever work?” he panted, punching me in the arm.

I gritted my teeth and fucking lost it; I backhanded him across his face, I gripped his wrist, and I got him in a choke hold with my other hand. And I applied enough pressure for him to stop hitting me. All he could muster were feeble attempts at pushing me away.

I dipped down low, our noses nearly touching. His shallow breaths hit my wet skin. We smelled like drying cast and cement.

“Surrender,” I whispered raggedly.

He choked and fisted my hair, pulling at it, but he was losing his strength.

I released his throat and quickly captured his other hand.

“Fuck you,” he rasped.

Tempting.

I wasn’t releasing his wrists this time. My chest heaved as I peered down between us, and a thick surge of lust washed over me. His soaked long-sleeved tee had ridden up to expose his abs and ribs. Trickles of blood and mud were smeared all over his skin. In the background, Aiko cried out her surrender, and Shay yelled hoarsely for Daddy to stop. I pushed my cock slowly against Tate’s and swallowed hard. His chest fell and rose rapidly, and when I locked eyes with him again, the fight had left his expression.