“The last fight of the night, the one I know you’ve been waiting for.” Another cheer. Most of the people there had been drinking steadily, and it showed. “Mac Martin, in his first fight, will be facing a veteran of these nights.” Michael rolled his eyes at the grandstanding of it all. “Undefeated in his last five fights, Al Hunter, otherwise known as the…?” He raised his arms out to the crowd and they yelled back as one, “Butterfly Assassin.”
Michael had a sudden image of Aaron fluttering into the ring and landing on tiptoes, and he had to smother a laugh. A couple of people next to him gave him the side-eye.
Then both fighters walked in, and Michael’s laughter disappeared in a heartbeat because,fucking hell,there was nothing funny about this version of Aaron.
Nothing at all.
Dressed only in loose-fitting jeans, slung low on his hips, and a pair of what looked like combat boots, Aaron sauntered into the ring as though he owned it. And from the way everyone chanted his name, he did.
Bare-chested as he was, Michael now saw why he’d got his nickname. Well, one of the reasons anyway. The intricate butterfly tattoo on Aaron’s chest was about five inches across, from wing tip to wing tip. Michael wanted to run his fingers across it, to trace the dark, delicate ink covering Aaron’s smooth skin.
Aaron rolled his shoulders and moved his head from side to side, jumping in place.
Michael couldn’t look away.
All that exposed skin, muscles taut, primed and ready to unleash whatever power Aaron chose to allow himself. To say he was captivating was an understatement.
Mouth a little dry, Michael swallowed.
How had he thought not kissing Aaron would make things easier? How? If anything, it was worse, because now he wanted it so much more. Scrabbling for something to focus on, something to get his mind back on the job, he leaned in close to Harry and whispered, “How can he fight in those boots?”
Harry scoffed. “They’re lighter than they look.”
And he has shifter strength. They probably feel like slippers.
Aaron didn’t glance their way once, although Michael got the feeling he knew they were there. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, shaking out his arms and focusing solely on the bloke opposite him.
Michael, on the other hand, couldn’t tear his gaze away, transfixed by the play of muscles across Aaron’s back and shoulders. He looked nothing like the guy who’d teased him in the office on Tuesday—all playfulness wiped from his expression, replaced by a cold, steely concentration. He looked every bit the fighter, like someone ready to do whatever it took to take down his opponent.
He looked dangerous.
And I like it.
He liked the version of Aaron who grinned and ran his fingers teasingly over Michael’s groin, and he liked this one too. The version who looked as though he’d pick Michael up and fuck him against the nearest wall without a second thought. Heat pooled in his belly at that image, his jeans getting a little tighter as his cock stiffened.
Harry turned to him, eyes narrowed. “Really?”
Shit.
Fucking shifter senses.
But then Harry shook his head with a sigh. “Not that you’re the only one.”
A flash of jealousy took Michael by surprise, and he couldn’t resist a quick look around to see who else was watching Aaron with the same interest.
There were more than he’d expected in a crowd like this.
Harry nudged him again, eyes darting over to the far corner where the light dimmed. “Blake just came in with a few others I don’t recognise.”
Michael immediately snapped back into work mode, not looking over straight away, instead slowly gazing around the room until finally landing on the spot Harry’d indicated. “Which one?” he whispered. In the photos they had, Blake always wore some sort of hat. Michael couldn’t pick him out.
“Big bald guy with enormous shoulders and grey jacket.”
Immediately spotting who Harry described, Michael tried to make out the people with him, but the fight was about to start, and everyone pushed a little closer together to get a better view. Heads blocked his line of sight, the dim light not helping. Maybe the lack of light didn’t bother Harry?
He shuffled closer, lips next to Harry’s ear. “Did you see Smith?”
“Maybe.” Harry shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t be certain. But there’s another one of his bodyguards over there, so it’s a good bet he’s there too.”
