“It would be punishing you. It’s all about you. You’re then responsible for an innocent woman never getting to enjoy life because of your selfish need to get your rocks off.”
“I have to get those rocks off somehow.”
“And you know how that will happen.”
I didn’t think his eyes could get any wider, but I was wrong.
“You’re even more psychotic than I thought.”
“And I look forward to showing you just how psychotic.”
The host interrupts us. “What a mess!” he says gleefully, drawing our attention to the cage, where one of the guys is being led out, coated in blood. Looks like I missed the best parts while distracted by my fiancé.
“Now for our next round, we have a newbie against Wrath Wilde.”
“Newbie?” Logan asks, his attention on the cage, and I can see the uneasiness in his expression.
It’s a look I’m all too familiar with. He’s concerned about his brother. It’s the very reason why I know, whether he wants to or not, he won’t back out of the arrangement. Why he will be my bride.
6
LOGAN
Wrath takes tothe cage first, immediately winning the crowd’s affection and praise as he makes silly, grand punches in the air, waving for them to cheer. Among the Wilde brothers, he’s always been the charmer, always looking for an audience to put on a show for. It’s a quality I admire, though not something I’d care to possess.
“And he may be new here,” the host goes on, “but just one look at the guy and you know he’s no stranger to a fight. It’s Sik Vik!”
I was more comfortable when I thought he was fighting Rigs, someone who frequents the scene. Some guys who come in to the cage matches, especially newbies, don’t get that there are rules, that it’s not a damn free-for-all, so this development is unsettling.
*
From the cageentrance, a guy a few inches taller than Wrath steps out. Bare chest covered in a dragon tat, shiny chrome nipple rings, and his scalp looks freshly shaven. The only hair I notice on his otherwise slick body is his goatee and the pubes creeping up from the low waistband of his jeans. Judging by size alone, my brother doesn’t have much to worry about, but I get a bad vibe from this guy, and I’ve learned to trust my gut.
Guys like Killian and myself, we’ve spent our lives in a world where it’s essential to know who to trust and who to keep distance from. A sixth sense that’s partly from our fathers—a trait of the problematic personalities necessary for being the powerhouses they once were—and partly evolved, this acute need all creatures have to survive at all costs.
“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Killian says pointedly, like he’s trying to make me snap.
I don’t give him any of the attention he bids for. My instincts have me locked in on Sik Vik, trying to understand where this sense in my gut is coming from.
Or maybe I just don’t want to think about what an asshole Killian’s being about Alana.
“I don’t like this fucker,” I mutter to myself, but Killian chimes in, “Same here.” I wish I could dismiss it and continue ignoring him until he goes away, but now I’m intrigued. I turn to him, and he’s got his eyes on Sik Vik too.
“You have a bad feeling about him?”
He nods, which confirms my concerns.
“That’s a guy who’s got something to prove,” Killian adds.
Even Wrath seems to notice something as Sik Vik sneers at him. Sometimes guys will do this as part of the production, but I suspect that’s not what’s happening here. I’m tempted to head over to the cage and stop Wrath, but I know my brother too well for that. He’ll fight either way, and I don’t want to distract him. Besides, if this guy’s messed up, then he’s met his match.
I shake my head, though it doesn’t help that Killian’s still watching the guy like he has a personal vendetta against him.
“You’re not helping me feel better about this.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know that was my job.”
Fuck, it’s like he’s wired to piss me the hell off.
