"Jesus Christ," Reese breathes, pressing closer to me. "This is where you come with Copeland?"
I nod, scanning the crowd. "This is where I come when I need to let the darkness out. When it gets too much." I look down at her, searching her face for disgust or fear. "You still want to see the rest?"
She nods, her pupils blown wide as she takes it all in. There's a hunger in her eyes.
"Show me everything," she says.
A flash of red catches my eye—fake blood cascading down from the ceiling in sheets, soaking dancers below who writhe against each other with abandon. The smell of copper fills the air. It's synthetic, but close enough to the real thing to make my pulse quicken.
I spot Copeland on the far side, his face and chest streaked with red, a woman on her knees in front of him. He doesn't see us yet.
"Fuck," I mutter, pulling Reese toward the nearest wall. The crowd is getting thicker, bodies pressing closer as the music builds to a crescendo. I maneuver us until our backs are against the concrete, then pull her in front of me, caging her between my arms.
She's trembling slightly, her breathing shallow as she looks around at the chaos—at a couple fucking against a pillar twenty feet away, at the blood-soaked dancers, at the man with a whip sending red welts across his partner's back.
"This is...a lot," she whispers, her back pressing against my chest.
I lower my head until my lips brush her ear. "Yeah, I know. I am a lot." My voice is rough, raw with honesty. "You know I got something in me. I have to let it out somehow; otherwise I'd end up with a body count as long as Penn's."
She turns her head to look at me, our faces inches apart. "Is that what you do here? Let it out?"
"Yeah, in the fights. I’ll get in the makeshift ring. Sometimes even with Cope. I don’t participate in a lot of the other things here, baby girl."
Her eyes follow my gaze, widening. "And which one are you tonight?"
"Tonight I'm your guide." I tighten my arms around her, feeling her warmth against me. "Blue marks, remember? We're just watching."
A guy stumbles too close to us, eyes fixed on Reese with unmistakable intent. I bare my teeth, pulling her tighter against me.
"Mine," I growl, the word slipping out before I can stop it.
The guy holds up his hands in surrender and backs away.
Reese stiffens in my arms. "Did you just?—"
"Sorry." I'm not fucking sorry at all, and she knows it. "It's how things work here. You need to be claimed or you'll get propositioned all night."
She turns in my arms, pressing her palms against my chest. Her eyes glitter in the flashing lights, pupils blown wide as shestares up at me.
"What if I didn't want to just watch?" she asks.
My entire body goes rigid. "What?"
"What if I wanted to participate?" There's a challenge in her voice, a recklessness I've never heard before.
"And do fucking what, Reese?" I snarl, my grip tightening on her waist.
She shrugs, eyes darting over my shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe I want to be up in one of those cages."
I follow her gaze to the suspended metal cages hanging from the warehouse ceiling. Inside each one, a person writhes and dances while the crowd below watches, some reaching up to touch through the bars. Some of the cage dancers are barely dressed, covered only in that fake blood that drips down onto the eager faces below.
"Then I'll buy one for the fucking house," I snap. "You can dance in it all you want where no one but me can see you."
Her eyes narrow. "That's not the same thing, and you know it."
"I don't give a fuck. You're not getting in one of those cages."
"Why not?" She pushes against my chest, but I don't budge. "You brought me here to show me what this place is about. Why can't I experience it?"
