“I want to see your fight. Don’t worry about me.” I look over my shoulder. “Sally, is your seat close to mine?”
“Of course, sugar.” She winks and smiles. “We’ll follow you.” Lawson and Bane walk behind us.
“Don’t rush her,” Rylee says.
“You should know better,” Hunter says. He blocks the door, and I hold perfectly still as he lifts his hand. I shiver as he pinches my chin and then glides his thumb across my bottomlip. “I’ll see you soon, Princess.” He turns and disappears in the crowd beyond the door.
“Protect her,” Bane growls. He drags his finger across my hip as he passes us, and my body sways.
“Stay close,” Remy says to Lawson at my back.
I follow him, his hand firm on my wrist. Lawson stays behind me, but slightly to my right. He slides his hand to the middle of my back as we enter the arena. My eyes widen. It’s huge and filled with people. Remy moves confidently through the bodies, his energy making them part. A large platform sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by pads and ropes. The building is pumping with conversation and a low hum of music. I have to jog to keep up with Remy’s long legs. Someone pushes into my side, and I stumble into Lawson. He hisses and presses the body away forcefully; the man yelps and lands on his ass. We don’t stop, but make steady progress. Lawson’s hand returns to my waist.
There is a break in the crowd, and I release a breath. Remy leads us to a group of empty chairs, front and center. I expected folding chairs like the ones I’ve seen at televised fights, but these are plush. He releases my wrist and holds down the seat of one, looking at me expectantly. I take the cue and slide onto the seat. There are no armrests, so their bodies brush my arms as they take the seats on either side of me. I look around helplessly, unsure how to handle the situation I find myself in. Sally winks at me and moves behind us. For some reason, her presence in the chair at my back comforts me.
“We would never hurt you,” Lawson says, leaning close. His breath brushes my ear, and I wiggle. I’ve never been so turned on.
“I think I know that.” I cross my legs and turn toward him. Big mistake. His face is too close. I notice his eyes aren’t as sad anymore. “Why do I know that?” I whisper.
“Instinct,” he says.
“You just became the most important person in the room,” Remy drawls, slipping his arm on the back of my seat. He stretches his legs, crossing his ankles, and tilts his head toward me. My gaze bounces between them.
I open my mouth, but suddenly a roar fills the room. Rylee enters, and she’s glaring as the cheers ring out. A man walks beside her. He’s gorgeous, and his presence is powerful. He holds a cane in his fist. People jump out of the way, forming a line beside them. I smile at her, hoping to reassure her. Her expression eases, but her body is tense. Hunter walks behind them, his focus is on the crowd on either side, yet he seems aware of where we are.
“That’s Heath,” Sally says, leaning on the back of my chair. “He won’t let anything happen to Rylee.” I twist around to respond, but the words don’t come as I see other beautiful people filling into the row.
“Did you make a new friend?” a stunning man asks. His hand is locked around a gorgeous blonde with long hair.
“You know I make friends everywhere I go,” Sally says, smiling. “This is Haven. Rylee’s friend.” She looks at me. “This is Micah, my best friend, and his mate Daisy.” Micah tilts his head.
“I love your hair,” I say to Daisy. The blonde strands are interwoven with purple.
“Thanks. Same.” She smiles.
“The big, frowning guy is Quinn,” Sally continues. “And his mate, Stephanie.” Big is right. Quinn is tall and has black hair. His face is severe, yet he guides his mate with tenderness.
“Nice to meet you,” Stephanie says.
Sally shares a look with Micah, but I’m not sure what she's trying to convey.
“The fight is about to start,” Remy says, and I ease back in my seat.
“That’s who she’s fighting?” I ask. The woman across the platform is rolling her shoulders as she stares at Rylee. She’s Rylee's height, but more muscular.
“Looks are deceiving,” Lawson says.
“Rylee is scrappy,” Remy adds.
“I don’t know if I’ll like this,” I mumble, twisting my hands in my lap.
“Don’t worry.” Remy squeezes my joined hands, and I stop fidgeting. “Does violence affect you?”
“Maybe.” My father slapped me a lot. Sometimeshe used his fists. It was demeaning more than painful. Hitting Brian was a fluke. I don’t think I'll do it again. “If I lunge for the ring, grab me.”
“You think you will?” Remy asks, his eyes crinkling. I wonder how he can exude so much danger yet, at the same time, charisma.
“Who knows? I don’t like thinking about her bleeding.” Lawson trails his finger down my arm.
