Treacherous
“Nowhere.” I’m not telling him Rylee’s here because I don’t want to set him off. I’m sure he’ll see her eventually. Rylee is the type of person who stands out in any crowd she’s in.
I turn and eye my opponent, Luis Garcia. He’s half Mexican and half American. His looks must come from his Mexican side, while his build is American. He’s stacked upon stacked with bulging muscles, and he has to be several inches taller than me. His long inky black hair is pulled back into a folded over ponytail against his bulky neck. To most men, he’d be intimidating and imposing, but to me, he’s just another guy who will be eating the concrete beneath our feet before the night is over.
One side of his mouth tips up in amusement and he lifts his chin at me. I turn my back to him and my eyes instantly land on the girl who’s standing just beyond the barrier that holds the crowd back. True to his word, Charles is pressed against her side.
With the crowd becoming frantic and the shouting getting louder by the second, I hold her gaze as I reach over my shoulder, grip the back of my shirt, and pull it over my head.
Her mouth parts open and her tongue darts out to lick along the bottom lip. Her eyes roam over the dips and valleys of the muscles on my torso. Her slim shoulders rise and fall faster than normal. I’m sure if I had a closer view, her pupils would be dilated, too.
She’s fucking turned on by looking at me. I smirk, and her blush is back in full force.
Hart steps into the makeshift ring and begins to announce Luis and me, before doing a quick review of the rules. I don’t pay attention—I’ve heard it all before. Instead I keep my eyes planted firmly on Rylee. Oliver claps me on the back and says something in my ear that I don’t hear before going to one of the corners. I sense Luis approaching me, but I still keep looking at the girl who’s taking up entirely way too much of my attention. She doesn’t look away either. We’re both ensnared by whatever fucking spell that has us captivated.
I don’t know what it is, but something shifted inside us both when I held her wrist in that darkened hallway.
Her eyes turn into saucers a split second before I feel the wind of Luis’ approaching fist. I duck just in time to miss his punch. He staggers from the momentum, surprise evident in his eyes when he misses. He doesn’t realize that just because my attention may have been on someone other than him, I still tracked his every movement.
Jerking my gaze away from Rylee, I spin around and land an uppercut to the bottom of Luis’ chin.
RYLEE
WHAT THE HELL?
What the actual hell?
I watch Zayden go blow for blow with a man nearly double his size—though he delivers a lot more blows than he receives. I’m entranced by his every move—enthralled by his brute strength and speed.
Suddenly it all makes sense.
Why he has this untouchable persona.
Why people follow him like he’s some sort of God.
Why everyone is afraid of him—even the jocks.
As Zayden’s competitor crumbles to the floor, he climbs on top of him and continues to land punch after punch to the man’s face. His nose splits and blood pours down his cheek, onto the floor below.
Seeing him like this, watching him unleash his rage on another person shouldn’t impress me. Hell, it should probably scare me. But it doesn’t. I’m in awe. I’ve never been one to like violence, but when I was little my dad would always watch MMA fighting, and I kind of fell in love with the sport, which is why I was so excited when Pierce told me about the underground fighting ring. Granted, this is definitely more like two people fighting in the street than the fights I’m used to watching, but it’s still cool.
The crowd roars, feeding off the energy. It’s so loud that Hart blows the horn three times before Zayden hears it and halts his assault on the man who is now nearly unconscious on the floor.
Coming here tonight, I didn’t know Zayden would be one of the fighters—a little detail I think Pierce intentionally left out. When I watched him step into that ring, I think my heart stopped for a moment. I don’t know if I was more nervous or scared. Now I see that my concern was misplaced. It should have been the other guy I was worried about, not Zayden.
Sweat trickles down his muscular torso as he stands, shoving a hand through his hair to push the messy locks out of his face. I can’t look away. If I thought he was gorgeous with his clothes on, it’s nothing compared to how he looks with them off. His body is absolutely insane.
“Come on.” Pierce tugs on my arm. Reluctantly looking away from Zayden, I peer up at my friend. “We need to bounce.”
“Why?”
He leans down and speaks directly into my ear—the noise of the crowd making it hard to hear anything beyond their cheers. “Because I told Zayden I’d get you out of here directly after the fight.”
“Since when do you do Zayden’s bidding?” I draw back, not trying to hide my frustration.
“I don’t. But when I feel like he’s actually looking out for you, I’m going to listen. You heard what he said about the cops.”
I groan, tempted to stomp my feet like a spoiled child trying to get my way.
“Fine,” I cave, knowing my mom would kill me if she found out I came here tonight—a trip to the police station in the back of a cop car might tip her off. Taking Pierce’s hand, he turns and pulls me through the crowd. I try to catch one more glimpse of Zayden, but the amount of people packed inside the small space makes it difficult to see anything once we’ve started moving.