Jules’s words echoed in my mind, giving me an order I wouldn’t disobey. I was obedient to my Master, if nothing else.
Greenwich went in for another punch, but this time I was prepared for him. Even though the fight moved quickly, it was as though we were in slow motion as he drew back his fist and shoved his arm toward my head. I managed to get my legs free from under his weight and kicked his chest, knocking him backward off me. He landed on the floor behind me, and I followed him, switching to sit on his chest.
Now that he was under me, I grabbed his head between my hands and dragged him up, then smashed him down again. Even though the cage floor was bouncier than wood, a head against any firm surface would do damage, and that was my purpose.
He let out a yelp of pain as the back of his head hit the floor hard, but I did it again. And again. And again. Pure rage filled me, and adrenaline fueled that wrath like gas on a fire. My blood was hot in my veins, and a hunger to destroy ignited in my belly for this puny man beneath me—to rid the world of him—so, I kept going, smashing his head against the floor. Around me the crowd grew silent, so deadly quiet the drumming of my heart seemed loud in my head. The crunching of Greenwich’s skull soon joined the sound, though, but that only egged me on, and I went harder.
“No! No!” The anguished scream from behind me finally made me slow down. I glanced at the body beneath me—blood had splattered across my gloved hands and arms and over the floor. Greenwich’s body was limp. His eyes were wide, but dead like the rest of him, and his brain matter smeared the floor of the cage. “My boy! You’ve killed my boy!”
The clattering of the cage door had me jumping to my feet and backing away. I didn’t want to kill Greenwich’s father here and now, but I would if he attempted to touch me. But Greenwich’s father was focused on his son, falling beside the lifeless body and screaming. If I knew how to feel sorry for him, I might’ve, but instead I smiled at my handiwork.Perfect.
I looked out at the stunned faces and stepped forward, raising my bloody arms to them. The music started again as ecstatic cheering met my ears. I grinned, the pumping adrenaline joining the screams. To my left, the ref stood uneasily, staring at Greenwich’s body with his mouth parted in surprise, and I ignored him, walking out the cage door.
Jules met me. He laughed and cupped my face, bringing me in for a deep kiss, and I joined in his enthusiasm, grinning from ear to ear, even though my nose was busted and hurt and my ribs ached. Fuck the pain, I could handle it.
“I did it, Master.”
“You did it,” he confirmed with another deep kiss.
Someone pushed their way toward us, and I tensed when I saw Uhlig shoving past a few people who had stood to celebrate. His face was edgy, mouth pursed, and when he reached us, he growled, “What the fuck was that?”
I shrugged with a smile and spit out my mouth guard. “It’s called fighting, Derek. No rules, remember?”
He ground his teeth and glanced at Jules tightly. I was almost certain he wanted to deck me. “You could’ve pulled away when the guy was nearly dead.”
“But what’s the fun in that?” I winked. “By the way, tell your announcer I prefer the Killer from now on, not Pretty Boy.”
Uhlig’s eye twitched, but he managed to paste a fake smile on his face as he swept past me toward the cage. He stepped inside and raised his hands, but the crowd only cheered louder. Someone came in and passed him a microphone, and I watched, curious as to what he was about to do.
Jules pulled me in against him, arm around my shoulders. “Good job, my sweet little killer.”
I puffed up my chest in pride even though it hurt.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Uhlig offered them a bright grin. “What a fight, right?”
The stamping of feet began again.
Uhlig laughed. “This happens sometimes, doesn’t it? Our fighters go a little too far.”
Louder screams. I soaked up the sound, closing my eyes and mentally embracing my audience. They appreciated my art.
“Pretty Boy’s not so pretty, is he?” He was answered with even more yells. They fucking ate it all up. “Maybe we should call him... the Killer?”
A man near the front had a plastic cup of beer that he dumped on himself before pumping his fists with shrieks of delight. Pleasure wormed its way around my gut, and I wriggled closer to Jules.
Uhlig glanced at me, eyes dark even though he still had the fake smile on. No doubt he would bitch at me about having to get rid of a body. Boo-hoo. I waved at him, and he glared, and then he went back to entertaining the crowd. I focused on Jules. My handsome Master.
I licked my upper lip, where blood from my nose dribbled. It could’ve been some of Greenwich’s blood, too. “Master, I liked this a lot. I mean, I love our room, too, but we can do both, right?”
He caressed his thumb over my cheek and across the blood on my upper lip before sucking his finger into his mouth and taking a taste. “Yes, Killer. We can do both.”
“Good.” I tilted my head to the side and offered my mouth to him. “Take me home and fuck me now?”
He laughed and captured my lips in a rough kiss, and I sighed into him. This was all I needed—him and my art and my audience. Perfect.
17
JULES
