He grins, and it’s so dazzling I almost forget my thoughts.
“I’m the same, Datura. You just haven’t figured out how to deal with me yet.”
‘That’s an understatement.’
Food comes and we eat in silence for a few minutes. I’m almost starting to enjoy the moment when I notice a dark bruise on the inside of his forearm, just visible where his sleeve rides up. It looks ugly, fresh. I stare at it, then at his knuckles, still healing from the split last week. He’s always bruised in some way or another.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
He follows my gaze, then shakes his head.
“Nah. You get used to it.”
I set my fork down.
“You get used to being hurt?”
He looks at me for a long time, then leans back, arms crossed over his chest.
“Just ask your question.”
‘Jesus, am I that transparent?’
“I just…if you’re in trouble, or if someone’s hurting you, I’d like to know. I’m your wife after all.”
He laughs loud enough to have a few other customers turn our direction. They look back at their food quickly like they know who he is.
“You gonna protect me, baby girl?“
I scowl at him and his smile drops when he realizes I’m not in the joking mood.
“No one’s hurting me, Liana. Not unless I want them to,” he says with a sigh.
I frown, confused. What does that even mean?
He studies me, eyes searching, like he’s trying to decide if I can handle whatever he’s about to say.
“There’s an underground fighting ring. Run by the Degerson family. I fight there sometimes.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s the same as going to the gym or the store. I stare at him, stunned.
“Why would you do that? Surely you don’t need money?”
He snorts.
“It’s not always for money, Datura. Some fight for money. Some for prestige. Other fights are for the more selective tastes. For me it’s an outlet. A way to let off steam.” He glances down at his hands, flexes them. “It’s the one place I can go where nobody cares who I am.”
I try to imagine the man in front of me beating someone bloody in a cage for fun. This same man that was wrapped around me teaching me how to spar. It sounds crazy and scary and…thrilling.
“Can I see?”
He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“No.”
“Why not?” I ask, defiance in my tone.
He sighs, rubs his temples like I’m a child annoying him.
