AEDAN
There wereabout a million reasons I shouldn’t be there: it was too damn hot; I had to be up early for work the next morning; I didn’t want to givehimthe satisfaction of seeing me at one of his fights.
But there was something that mattered more than any of that. That itch, that deep-down itch that can’t be scratched any other way but feeling your fists connect. The rush you get as you duck and weave, hands up, taking the punishment and then returning it tenfold.
I don’t do that anymore. But the itch is still there. Watching it is the next best thing.
By rights, indulging myself like that should have brought something bad down on me. A lightning bolt from above, maybe. But someone saw fit to send me a whole different kind of divine intervention.
She was the only woman in the place, but she would have stood out if she’d been in some uptown club filled with supermodels. Long, black hair, maybe even darker than mine, so dark it was almost blue-black. A slender, lithe body that made me want to take the flat of myhand and run it all the way down from her neck to the curve of her calf, like stroking a cat. She was wearing a bubblegum-pinkCurious Weaselst-shirt and it molded to the soft swells of her breasts in a way that made my breath catch.
No.Not her. I wasn’t going to torture myself with a girl like that. Too beautiful. Too pure. I didn’t deserve someone like that. Oh, sure, I could grab her wrist and pin her with my Irish eyes and tell her she was coming home with me,now. Maybe she’d see what was underneath the hood and freak out, but maybe she’d be okay with it. Then we could go back to my apartment. My body between those sweet thighs, driving up into her, those cute little tits filling my hands—
Jesus, would that really be so bad?
Yeah, it would. In the morning, she’d realize I wasn’t some fantasy bad boy; I was justbad.Not an exciting walk on the wild side but a full-on savage, only good for two things. She’d look down at my big, calloused hands as they roved over her naked breasts and start to think about what else they’d done—how much pain and damage I’d dealt. She’d panic and make excuses and run back to her safe little life, wherever the hell that was, and it’d be over. Or, worse, she’d hang around just long enough for me to fuck up her life. I wasn’t going to risk that. No matter how perfect her tits were.
I watched her moving through the crowd. Damn, she was just a scared little thing. Why didn’t people make way for her? I pegged her for about twenty, five years younger than me. It was only when she glanced my way again that I saw the pain in her eyes. Shewasabout twenty, but she’d seen more bad shit than someone her age should.
She bought a soda and ran the can over her forehead—right there, in front of me, like it was nothing at all. I drank in every detail: the slow roll of the can as it kissed her skin, the soft, long lashes as she closed her eyes in pleasure, the drop of ice water that fell from the bottom of the can and fell—
Jesusonto her upper boob and then trickling down into the scoop neck of her t-shirt, painting a trail of moisture over the soft flesh.
I could feel my cock swell against my thigh.Damn,she was hot.
She opened her eyes and I finally got a look at them. Big and liquid and the color of some lush, enchanted forest grove. And her lips! Soft, perfect pillows, flawless and pink. She popped the top of the can and drank. I couldn’t take my eyes off that elegant throat, flexing and swallowing. God, she was beautiful. What the hell was she doing here? Some rich kid, slumming it? Her clothes didn’t look expensive, but she must be some rich guy’s girlfriend. What else would a woman be doing here? This was a guy’s world—women had more sense.
And then she looked up and, for maybe half a second, she was looking right at me. A jolt went through my body, as if I’d touched a live wire. I felt every muscle go tense, my hands making fists so tight my knuckles ached. It was like I’d dropped right into a fantasy world for an instant, a heaven where I knew her, where we could be together. I felt like I was coming alive, the last few years beginning to slough off and fall away from me.
An angel. Fate had sent me an angel.
Then she came to her senses and looked away and I felt like an idiot for staring at her. I was pretty sure she couldn’t see much, under the hood, but maybe she’d seen. Or maybe she’d sensed what I was like and that had scared her even more.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from her, though. I drank her in because it might be the last time I ever saw her. I watched until she finally finished her soda and headed out of the main room, down the long, dark hallway that led to the bathroom. I caught my breath. The sight of her ass in those jeans, pert and tight and just the right size for my hands…I had a new favorite part of her.
She disappeared into the shadows and the spell was broken. Reality returned like a punch to the side of my head.Yeah, and you’ll never even touch her, you feckin’ idiot.
I liked her and that was why I had to stay away from her. Because if I got tempted and actually got close, all I was going to do was hurt her.
And then I frowned, because I saw another guy watching her retreating back. Not one of the rich guys in a suit, one of the locals. He nodded to his two buddies and all three of them disappeared into the shadows.
Oh God, no.
3
SYLVIE
The Pit wassome kind of industrial building, once. Most of it is just bare concrete and graffiti, but some of the fluorescent lights still work and there’s running water. The crowd has to be able to see; the organizers have to hose the blood off the floor.
Hidden away down a long hallway, in what I guess used to be the office area, there’s a bathroom. Not many people know about it. I normally avoid it because I don’t like being off on my own in The Pit. But after draining a whole Dr. Pepper, I suddenly needed to go.
The roar of the crowd died away as I turned one corner, then another, hurrying past disused rooms with broken windows. It wasn’t much cooler than the rest of The Pit, but at least there was space to think.
Had that guy really been staring at me? It didn’t seem likely—no one ever looked at me. I couldn’t help thinking someone could have rolled the genetic dice better. I could have been some tall, leggy blonde with bags of confidence and my brother could have been short, dark and shy.
Because then maybe he wouldn’t be downstairs, waiting to take his turn in the ring.
I locked myself in the bathroom. There was only one in the wholeplace, so it’s a good thing people don’t know it’s there or it’d get pretty nasty in there on fight night. I pushed my jeans and panties down around my knees. A few seconds later...relief.
