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CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
I Wanna Be Your Slave
I bounce on my feet, a sheen of sweat covering my bare chest as I glare at my opponent across the other side of the cage. I can smell a win. It’s close.
Clayton has fought well and at one point caught me with an uppercut so powerful I’d almost,almostpassed the fuck out. The crowd had gone ballistic as my head had snapped back and I’d fallen against the cage wall. They’d smelt blood.
Except the motherfuckers didn’t count on me climbing back to my feet.
I didn’t do it for them. I did it for her. For Kate.
Over the sounds of the crowd I’d heard her.
“Beast!” she’d screamed, and the pain in her voice, the fuckinganguish, had ripped at my heart, squeezing tightly. Her fear had almost floored me and I knew in that fucking moment that I will only ever fall to my knees forher.
Only Kate.
So I shook my head and stood the fuck up, blood dripping from the gash across my brow, lip and cheek, and fought.
I’m still fighting.
Clayton is a worthy opponent and it’s been ugly, fucking brutal.
There are no referees in this club, and you’re only announced the winner when your opponent is knocked out cold or can’t get back up again. I’ve put many men in the hospital. As reigning champion it’s expected. Tonight, I’m being pushed to my limits, and if it weren’t for Kate screaming at me to keep going I might’ve conceded already. As it is, I’m fighting with every last drop of energy I have left.
Clayton lands a left hook to my cheek that I only partially deflect with my arm. I feel the power of it like a sledgehammer and my strength is waning. Pretty sure I’ve broken more than a couple of ribs from the kicks he’s managed to get in, as well as splits to my eyebrow, lip and cheek. I don’t need to look in the mirror to know that I’m covered in bruises, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a concussion, given I can see three of the fucker in front of me.
Still I fight.
Split and bloody knuckles meet sweaty, crimson skin. Two men equal in fitness, size and strength battle for supremacy. On and on and on we fight until the canvas is covered in our combined blood, but I can see that Clayton’s weakening, and right now winning isn’t down to who’s the best fighter, it’s down to who wants it more. Brute strength will only take you so far, but inner strength? That’s what wins the fight. Hands down, every motherfucking time.
Iwon’tlose.
Digging deep, I grit my teeth, and ignoring the searing pain in my ribs, launch myself at Clayton in a flurry of punches that he can barely defend, let alone respond to. I don’t stop, not when he stumbles, not when several teeth fly out of his mouth, not when his nose breaks, not when he falls to his knees, and not when he holds his hands up in defeat.
I finish it with one last blow to the side of his head that knocks him out cold.
The crowd erupts and I tip my head back and roar.
When the punters rush the cage, slapping their palms against the wire and chanting my name, I find myself searching for the only person that matters to me.
Kate.
The girl I call Princess who’s a temptation I’m finding harder and harder to deny.
Swiping at the blood and sweat getting into my eyes, I find her half a beat later. She’s standing beside Hudson who’s cheering like the rest of the crowd. There’s pride in her eyes, relief too, but also a flickering of sorrow before she shuts it down and dips her head in acknowledgement. My fucking stomach roils and my throat squeezes as I’m reminded of what she’d said earlier.
“It’s over. You have my word that I will never offer myself up to you again.”
I hadn’t believed her then. I do now.
I’m a man of my word, and she’s a woman of hers.
I should be happy about that, I’m not.
Because I want her.
Not because she’d spread her legs and finger-fucked herself in front of me, not because she’d done so with courage, but because there’s something deep within her that calls to me. Earlier I’d wanted so badly to take her in my arms and fucking love her the way she deserves to be loved, but loyalty to her father and my own self-imposed boundaries stopped me from taking that step. Though those same ties of loyalty hadn’t been strong enough to force me to leave the room. Nothing could’ve done that. Instead, I’d watched, fucking transfixed on her glistening pussy, her fingers sliding between her parted folds all swollen and blush for me, and I’d drawn on every last drop of fucking willpower not to throw caution to the wind and take what I know is mine.
