Page 68 of Nicolette

“There is a fighting ring set up in the gym. It’s also a large enough space to hold everyone,” Rambler shared, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. “Can I ask why you challenged him?”

“Was there another way to make him back the fuck off?” I questioned, looking up at him. “That man would never see me as anything other than an outsider who’s barging in and challenging everything he’s done up to this point. Why he acts like such a fucking entitled prick is beyond me. I hadn’t even done anything when I first met him, but he treated me like a whore. You know what that tells me? He sees women all in the same light, and we can’t have someone like that looking after these girls.”

Rambler just nodded and led me to his place, but I paused when he opened the door and gestured for me to go in.

“I normally do this alone,” I commented, unsure how to navigate this since I would be using his space.

“Do what you need to do. I’m not Circus. I won’t follow you around like a puppy,” Rambler assured me. “Just let me know if you need anything you can’t find.”

Nodding, I entered the apartment and headed for the bathroom. It might seem counterproductive to shower before a fight, but I used that time to let the day I’d had wash off me. Living at the Lucky Shot wasn’t all that bad, but it was full of people who were trapped there with no hope until they completed their contract. Many knew they’d never work it off, others had a talent that LC wanted to use, and they could go once the job was complete. Either situation didn’t make for an environment of comradery. We simply existed day in and day out.

Since waking up at the farmhouse, I’d been with people twenty-four-seven, not once craving to be alone. Even now, I felt better knowing Rambler would be in the apartment, so I wasn’t left to face this on my own. Back when I lost myself, drank too much, and almost gave up on life, my head had been filled with dark, twisted thoughts. What was the point of continuing to fight if one day I was going to lose and it would be all over? Why put myself through all that when I could just be done? Thankfully I’d had Nomolin, who cared enough to sit me down and light my ass up for allowing LC to ruin my life.

He’d told me that as long as I was still alive, waking up each day and fighting to continue, I was giving LC the middle finger. No one ever expected me to become what I had or to last ten years in that hell hole. There had been some close calls during those dark days, but once I stopped drinking to the point of inebriation, I made it another four years. It had taken LC to put me up against Supes to get me out of the ring. That had to say something—didn’t it?

Turning on the water until it was scalding, I stepped under the spray, letting it hit mostly on my neck and shoulders as I limbered up. It was obvious to me that I didn’t need this. My body moved like a well-oiled machine without any hitches like my shoulders used to. I couldn’t remember the amount of times they’d been dislocated over the years, but it made them snap, crackle, and pop. That was for damn sure. Now I felt like I’d never experienced any of that. Reaching down to touch my toes, I discovered I could keep going and put my hands flat on the tiled floor of the shower.

“Fuck, I’ve never been able to do that,” I muttered to myself.

Flexibility had been the one part of fighting that I had the hardest time with. The hours I spent working at being able to do the splits, forward bends, and toe touches were ridiculous. As I explored and tested my range of movement, I kept in mind that Zealot had these same abilities. He’d also had way longer to know how best to use them to his advantage. Batting that thought out of my head, I stood, tipping my head back so the water wet my hair.

I reached out to my lioness.

You know what I’ve gotten us into, right?

She looked up from where she’d been napping and yawned, clearly not at all worried.

Care to share some of that confidence with me?

Hauling herself to her feet and ambling over to me, I reached out a hand running it over her head.

Are you going to help me out tonight? I’m a skilled fighter, but as the guys keep telling me, I still think like a human. Tonight I can’t afford to risk second-guessing myself or knowing if I’m giving it everything I’ve got. There’s no way that I can win this without you right there with me.

She started to purr and push against my hand encouraging me to continue petting her. It was weird to think I was, in a sense, petting myself doing this, but it felt like she needed this from me, so I’d do it. We had to be a team through and through, so if this helped her feel more connected and appreciated, then who was going to know I was petting my own pussy in the shower? My lioness cracked an eye at that comment and gave an irritated chuff.

I’m fully aware I have the same sense of humor as a twelve-year-old boy—deal with it.

She pulled her head away, licking my hand, then sat down, watching me like she expected something to happen. I looked around but didn’t see anything I should have noticed, but when I looked back at her, she’d gone back to her spot to nap. Damn cat, fucking with me just because she could. Drawing myself out of that trance-like state, I washed my hair and scrubbed from head to toe, going over all the important things I’d learned over the years in the ring.

Finished, I snagged the towel I’d grabbed from under the sink and dried off. It took me a minute of digging around the many bins, drawers, and other organizers to find something to brush my hair with. Then, taking the towel, I wiped away the steam from the mirror so I could get my parting right for my braids.

When I made the first swipe, I spotted Rambler standing in the doorway, watching me with heated eyes.

I held his gaze through the mirror for a moment before turning around. “I thought you said you weren’t like Circus.”

“I’m not. He would have joined you in the shower instead of just appreciating the view,” he commented.

“How long have you been standing there?” I blurted, wondering how I’d missed spotting him the whole time.

“Not long, I heard you looking for something, so I was going to see if I could help. You might say I got slightly distracted seeing you moving around my space naked, wet, and rosy from the hot water,” Rambler explained as he walked over and boxed me in with an arm on either side, leaning on the counter of the sink. “You know, we never got to finish what we started the other day.”

“No, no we didn’t.” I breathed, my heart rate already picking up speed in anticipation.

He leaned in, letting his nose run up my neck and along my jaw until he fused his lips to mine. I moaned, my body instantly on board with the idea, almost as if I was still in the same state I’d been two days ago. Grabbing his flannel shirt, I ripped it open, sending buttons flying everywhere, then growled in frustration at the fact he had an undershirt on. Rambler chuckled against my lips before pulling back to yank the shirt over his head. The sight of his muscles moving under his gloriously golden skin, which seemed to always have a perpetual tan, had my mouth watering.

“That’s dangerous to look at me like that, pet,” Rambler warned as he caught my chin with his fingers. “It makes me want to forget about taking my time and devour you instead.”

“I’m fine with that,” I admitted. “We don’t have a whole lot of time to play the way you like to.”