It felt like a week passed before Mal was finally satisfied with the footage he’d got of Christian changing and staring moodily into the distance. And now he wanted...
“You want me to tape my hands for the fuckingcamera?” Christian asked incredulously.
“Itlooksgood,” Mal said, a disturbing gleam in his eye that had been there ever since he’d started filming. “Can youimaginewhat that’s going to look like played back in slight slow-mo, with a heart-wrenching soundtrack, showing the concentration on yourface as you consider the possibility of victory and death in the same breath?”
“Yeah,mydeath’s not exactly what I’m focused on,” Christian muttered, winding the tape with short, angry pulls.
“Yeah—that’s it, get a hate-on.” Mal was practically squirming on the spot behind the closest camera. There were multiple cameras set up around the place, and there was also a GoPro and extra floodlights over the cage.
“You don’t think they’re gonna hear you blowing your load on the soundtrack?” Christian murmured, careful to keep his lips from moving too much.
“Eye of the Tigerhides a multitude of sins,” Mal said. “That’s it. Bend your head down, look like you’rethinking.What’re you fighting for? Your honor? A lost love? Oh, God, that’s it, right there—the tortured, handsome hero look.”
Mal sounded like he’d just come in his pants, but Christian couldn’t care. Couldn’t care about anything except the plummeting emptiness inside as he remembered. He’d lost Dave. Lost him forever.
He forgot the cameras, forgot his lines, forgot everything except the cage.
He snarled at Bear when he entered. Bear, so affable outside the ring, was deadly and focused. Neither of them cared that this was supposed to be nothing more than a warm-up to get their muscles going and to film a few scenes that would be cut into the opening sequence of tonight’s stream.
The thing about Bear, as Christian had found out the first time they’d fought, was not to let him use his weight. He was like a boa constrictor once he was on top, smothering his opponent with his muscles and his bulk. So Christian had kept his distance that first night, taunting him by dancing in to land a blow and ducking back out of reach before Bear could react.
He hadn’t cared that the crowd had heckled him at first, thinking he was scared to close in on the bigger man. He paid no attention to onlookers when he was fighting. Even now, when they were pointing cameras at him, and Dave’s blond hair was shining in the lights—
He whipped his head around to look, heart thudding, throat suddenly dry. Bear’s elbow smashed into his jaw, and white light burst behind his eyes. He was on his knees somehow, all breath gone, and he didn’t know if it was because Bear had hit him again or if it was the gut-punch of realization—that for a second, just a second, he’d thought it was Dave. But it wasn’t. It would never be Dave again.
It was that fucking blond asshole, whatever his useless name was. Maybe Christian should tell him that Dave was free now, because it had been obvious that he’d wanted him. But the instant the thought crossed his mind, rage twisted and clawed inside him and his wolf snarled savagely, because Davewasn’tfree. Dave washis.Dave wouldalwaysbe his.
“Taylor?”
Christian pulled himself together to find he was still hunched over on hands and knees on the floor, heaving for breath that wouldn’t come. Bear was keeping his distance—he knew better than to risk getting close—but there’d been concern in his voice.
“Yeah,” he managed, though it didn’t sound like his voice. “We’ll finish this later.” Because hecouldn’tsay, even now, that he was going to stop fighting. He’d die before he did that.
He hardly remembered getting out of the cage or the building, but he was finally free in the afternoon sun, huddling against the wall and bending over to protect his gut, like a dog who’d been beaten. As he became aware of what he was doing and the invitation he was offering to anyone who might observe him, he drew himself up tall, shoulders back and head high. But there was noone there to see. And nothing could stop the emptiness growing inside him until it threatened to swallow him.
Dave.
He was in Stefan’s truck and fumbling the keys from under the visor before he knew he was going to do it. As he pulled out onto the road, heading back to the motel, all he could think wasplease.Please don’t let me be too late.
When he pulled into the parking lot, his heart stopped. The rental wasn’t there. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as he dug the room key from his pocket, and he sobbed in an uncontrolled breath when he saw the room was just as he’d left it. Dave’s fugly shirts were still spilling from his open bag, the teabags were there, and best of all, his phone was still on the bed. For all his hippie shit, Dave was nearly as bad as Tristan in not going anywhere without his phone. It meant he wasn’t far away.
Christian sat on the bed and waited, arms wrapped around himself, trying to hold together the pieces of whatever was left.
DAVE
When Dave opened his eyes again, the sun was much lower in the sky. He knew he had to move, regardless of how much it was going to hurt. He pushed up on his arms and gasped as his brain threatened to explode out of his skull. Refusing to give in to the temptation of lying back down, he held himself there until his vision slowly steadied.
Eventually, it sank in—waiting wasn’t going to make it hurt less. He rolled over and slowly sat up, breathing sharply as he fought down the waves of pain that started somewhere deep in his ankle and washed up through his whole leg.
Cautiously, he explored his aching ribs with his fingertips and was relieved to find they just seemed bruised. His left ankle wasanother matter. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it. He’d eased up his jeans a little and found the lacing of his boot was pulled tight, as if the ankle was swollen. And damn it, he couldn’t remember if he was supposed to keep the boot on for support or get it off before the swelling made it impossible. Either choice felt like the wrong one.
He reached into his pocket for his phone. He’d be doing well to get a signal out here, but maybe he’d be just that lucky. Except his pocket was empty of everything apart from a quarter and two ancient, lint-furred peppermints. He must have lost the phone in the fall, and even if he spotted it now, it wouldn’t have survived the drop.
He dusted the worst of the fluff off one of the peppermints and sucked it, needing something to ease the dryness in his mouth. And once that was gone, he leaned forward and gingerly touched his ankle. The pain that flared through him left him lightheaded, panting and fairly certain it was broken. Damn it. It looked like he was going to end up spending the night here after all. Apparently, nasty things happened to a body if it shifted when bones weren’t where they were supposed to be, so shifting to limp out on three paws wasn’t an option.
He had water back in the car, food too. But those might as well be on the moon. He’d just have to wait it out here, and hopefully tomorrow his enhanced healing would mean he was in good enough shape to make it out. He wasn’t going to think about what would happen if not, because it wasn’t like anyone knew where he was. And after what he’d said, he didn’t think Christian would be rushing to find him anytime soon.
God. His head dropped forward and he stared at the way the laces on his boot were stretched tight. What was he going to do about Christian?
