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“Willa.” Keegan nudged at my boot, but I couldn’t look away from Lucifer. “He’s got this—not sure why I was worried in the first place. Besides, that Russian fucker has been raping women for years. We’ve all been jonesing to take him down one way or another.”
The Russian spit out a mouthful of blood and teeth. “You hit like pussy,” he drawled in his thick accent. “I expect more from the Mother-Killer.”
An overwhelming sense of protectiveness surged through me. If I could have killed the Russian myself, I would have, but since I couldn’t, I went with my next best option: fuel the hellfire.
Digging deep, I honed my inner darkness. “He called me a shlyukha!”
I wasn’t telling Lucifer something he didn’t already know; he had picked his opponent for a very specific reason. But hearing it directly from me would have a greater impact.
Retributive justice—I was familiar with the term, and I’d essentially just asked the devil to deliver some.
Then I added, “It’s his fault Liam got stabbed!”
Lucifer’s lips quirked. I recognized my devil’s attempt at a smile, and in the subsequent seconds, a loud crack sounded across the arena. The Russian lay motionless.
Lucifer studied his fallen opponent as a man who claimed to be a referee rushed in to declare the winner.
The majority of the crowd broke out in cheers while the Russian boos seemed like an afterthought.
I climbed down from the cage, finding my feet beneath me. I tucked my hair behind my ears and looked up at Keegan. His pinched expression told me he was preparing himself for what was about to come out of my mouth next.
“Where’s the locker room?” I asked.
“Fuck me,” Keegan muttered as he took me by the elbow and led me away from the Octagon.
Willa
Lucifer stood inside the three-sided shower stall with his back to me. The muscles along his shoulders and back rippled with awareness.
We were the only two people in the locker room, and Keegan had assured me he’d stand guard at the door. No one was coming in or out without getting by him, which meant for the first time, Lucifer and I were truly alone without the threat of cameras, prying eyes, or my fiancé’s paranoia.
He still wore his fighting shorts, which I found odd. Unless he’d been expecting me to follow him in here—
So very Lucifer.
I smiled half-heartedly to myself. The night’s events had started to take their toll. My muscles and joints ached from hours of tension, but my heart ignored all logic and reasoning as it yearned for the man just a few strides away.
I slipped off Keegan’s jacket and stepped out of my boots.
Water blasted through the old pipes and splashed against the shower floor as I padded across the cold, slick tile.
I stood two feet from touching him, but he remained leaning forward with his palms pressed against the concrete wall, head bowed and shoulders heaving.
Though I was mesmerized by the glorious tattoo that moved under the contraction of sinew and muscle, I wasn’t oblivious to the breathtaking violence this beast of a man had unleashed in front of me twice tonight.
I paused, and my mind sprinted through all the dangerous possibilities of how this could go wrong. We’d shared a moment when he was in the arena—a moment that, when placed against the backdrop of the evening, seemed whimsical and flirtatious in comparison.
“Tell me you’re okay.” The words were ground out, full of threat and something that promised I meant something to Lucifer.
Gooseflesh crept up my limbs. I was suddenly lightheaded and disgustingly pleased.
My mouth opened, but before I could answer, Lucifer spun around and closed the gap between us. He framed my face in his hands, his thumbs dusting over my cheekbones.
“Tell me, Willa.”
His urgent, though tender touch cut off the air to my lungs, and a rush of warmth charged through my body. With a steady hand and a confident nod, I reached for the only man who’d ever made my heart do funny things.
My fingertips grazed the center of his chest, where a spattering of short, dark curls had captured a mixture of diluted blood and sweat. His pectorals twitched under my palm as he brought his forehead just inches from mine. Water droplets fell from his hair, landing on my heated skin.
