1
Leo
I grit my teeth as the throb of a bass rattles the nightclub floor. Parties are not my scene. Especially not alcohol-fueled messes like this one. I don’t have the patience for this crap, but unfortunately, I have to be here. It’s the official after-party for my first professional fight since I shifted from City Fight Center to Crown MMA Gym. I lean against the bar, watching a mass of people writhe on the dance floor. Once upon a time, I’d have been in the thick of it, but I’ve been involved in the MMA circuit for long enough that fights don’t have the same hype they used to. I’m certainly glad my new coach, Seth Isles, worked so hard to get me back in the cage, but I wish all I had to do was win and go home. As it is, my being absent would set tongues wagging. Many people still wonder whether I was complicit in the cheating operation my previous coach and fellow fighters were arrested for.
I wasn’t.
Did it surprise me when I found out? Hell no. There are some seriously sketchy people in this business. But I hadn’t heard a whisper about it until the police showed up during a training session and started cuffing people.
My eye twitches. My opponent got a good shot in and I’ve got a hell of a shiner. It’ll be worse come morning. If I’d been able to slink back home, I’d have already iced it, but for now, I’m the dude who has to do what he’s told and go where his manager wants him to.
Voices to the side catch my attention, the words “drugs,” “cheater,” and “fat skank” passing through the general noise and pricking my psyche. Straightening, I seek out the offending parties. I level my gaze on the backs of three guys who are facing a woman. I can’t see who she is from here, but they’ve obviously cornered her.
“What in the actual fuck makes you think you can show your ugly face tonight?” one of the men demands.
My jaw grinds. Whoever she is, no woman deserves to be spoken to like that.
“Is there a problem here?” I snap, shoving my way over to them.
All three men spin around, and when I spot their victim for the first time, I nearly roll my eyes.
Camile Hayes.I should have known.
Her wide blue eyes land on me, silently begging to be rescued. Her full pink lips tremble as though she’s on the verge of tears, and she hugs herself, emphasizing the way her tits nearly spill out the top of her dress. I swallow past an instantaneous gut-punch of lust. Yeah, Camile is sexy, with thick curves and an ass that’s practically pleading for a man’s hand to grip it, but she’s a princess who doesn’t think for herself. She lives in the shadow of her twin brother, Karson, one of the fighters who was recently arrested, and seems to be dependent on him for her confidence and sense of self.
“You.” Their leader’s eyes narrow. “You’re as bad as her. Probably in on it. Fucking cheats.”
Oh fuck no. He did not just say that. My jaw locks, and I shove up the sleeves of my button-down shirt, revealing tattooed forearms. “Look, I already beat the hell out of one guy tonight, and I’d rather not do it again. Don’t go around saying shit you know nothing about. Leave the poor girl alone and pick on someone who can fight back.”
One of the guy’s friends steps toward me as though he wants to take a shot, but the leader stops him with a gesture.
“Fine.” He holds up his hands. “She’s all yours.” He sends her a scathing look. “She’s probably been passed around by half the men here anyway.”
My fists curl tighter, but I resist the urge to plant one in his face. That’s the last thing I need right now. When they’ve disappeared into the crowd, I turn to Camile. “Go home, Cami. Get your beauty sleep. There’s nothing for you here.”
To my surprise, temper sparks in her eyes. “You don’t get to decide that,” she snaps, dropping her arms from her waist and advancing on me. This close, I catch a hint of a subtle fragrance that makes me want to lick her until I find the source of it. “I’m sick and tired of men thinking they know what’s best for me.”
My jaw drops. I’ve never heard Camile string more than a couple of words together, and certainly nothing as assertive as this. It shocks me. Especially given how she reacted to those bullies.
Raising her chin, she pivots, then sashays away, heading in a direction that isn’t toward the exit. I stare after her. What the hell was that? Is there more to the princess than meets the eye?
And why do I want to follow her and find out?
Camile
I’m sick and tired of people with penises trying to run my life. I head to the ladies’ room, shut myself in a cubicle, and rest my forehead against the door. I don’t even pause to think about hygiene; that’s how angry I am. Finally, I mustered the guts to do something forme, rather than play the role I’ve been pushed into as Karson Hayes’s twin sister, and look what happens. Another interfering male tries to cockblock phase one of my plan.
“Ugh!” I growl aloud, not even caring someone might overhear. I hate myself for getting all fluttery over Leo Delaney even more than I hate him for basically patting me on the head and telling me to shoo. The Goliath-sized blond, who looks more like a surfer on steroids than one of the world’s best MMA fighters, has always made me weak-kneed and stolen my capacity for rational thought. But why does he have to look so damn heroic marching into the thick of a nasty situation like some avenging angel come to save me?
Well, notmeper se. I saw his expression when he realized who he’d stepped up to bat for. Leo Delaney has no patience for Camile Hayes. I’m not sure what I ever did to him considering we’ve hardly talked, but I could tell he thought I’d waltzed into trouble without a thought in my silly little head. I can’t even be bitter about it because it’s not as though I’ve given him much reason to think otherwise. Whenever he’s around, I withdraw into my shell and become a stammering, blushing mess.
Not tonight, though.
Perhaps it’s all the emotion I’ve been bottling up seeking a safe outlet, but I couldn’t just stand there and take his disdain without speaking my mind. I hadn’t been brave enough to tell those bullies off—perhaps because I didn’t know them and couldn’t be sure how they’d react—but I know Leo well enough to know he’d never hurt me if I let loose a little. Not physically, at least. His friends haven’t nicknamed him “Priest” for no reason. It’s a better fit than his fight name, “The Lion.” While I might not always appreciate his judgmental attitude, I have to agree every bone in his body is honorable.
Closing my eyes, I sigh. He did look awfully sexy with those tattoos winding around his forearms and that tousled golden hair. Even the bruising around his eye couldn’t detract from his hotness. It just made him look more like a Viking warrior.
I wish he’d pillage me.
