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A hard punch slams into my chin and my entire body flings backward with the force, stumbling a few steps trying to regain my balance. The crowd roars around me as I bring my hand to my lips, the familiar taste of copper filling my mouth. I glare up at my opponent, he looks like a raging bull shuffling back and forth around me in a half-circle.
The pain blooms in my jaw, and I can feel the blood seep through my teeth as I smile at him. The crowd grows even louder at the sight. I savor the pain, the endorphins traveling down my body and grounding me to the moment. This is exactly what I needed.
My naked chest drips with sweat as I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck left to right. I spit blood on the floor and wipe my hands on my jeans. We’ve been at it for a while now, I can tell the other guy is getting winded and I’m just biding my time, looking for an opening for the final blow. I stalk towards him as he tries to intimidate me with his fancy footwork and I struggle not to roll my eyes at him.
He thinks he’s in the MMA or some shit.
It only takes a small indecision on his part for me to finally find the opening I’ve been waiting for. I lurch forward slamming my fist in quick consecutive jabs to his side and then finish with a solid right hook to the face before he face-plants to the floor—unconscious.
I glare down at him, smirking boastfully while blood trickles from a cut into my left eye, wiping it away mechanically. I’m watching the loser get dragged out of sight, when I feel hands grab my shoulders from behind, and I flinch until I hear Connor’s laughing yelp in my ear, swiveling me around.
“You were ruthless, brother,” he exclaims, handing me back my shirt. “We should do this more often,” he says, waving a wad of cash in my face.
“Yeah, no thanks. I’m good,” I respond, heading for the exit, the fresh air hitting my lungs in relief.
“You sure? You might have missed your calling,” he continues.
“Or maybe you’re just a greedy son of a bitch,” I say as we both head towards Connor’s SUV.
“Yeah, also that,” he answers, chuckling as he climbs in the car. “Did you want to go for a drink or are you all beat up and shit?”
I grunt out a yes, settling into the seat. “I just need to shower first.”
“Sure thing, and let me guess…” he says, turning the keys in the ignition, music already blaring through the speakers, a taunting smirk on his lips. “Sammies?”
I don’t give him the satisfaction, dropping my head onto the headrest and closing my eyes instead, savoring the pain drumming through my body. “Just shut up and drive.”
Chapter 26
Sunny
I’mdeepintheweeds when I notice Connor and Bastian walk in, followed closely behind by Byzantine. I nearly drop the two drinks I’m making when I notice his face.
His chin is bruised, his left eyebrow split open, the eyelid underneath slightly swollen. What the hell happened to him? The most confounding thing about it is the almost serene smile he’s sporting as he prowls into the bar looking more like a champion and not like he just got jumped in an alley.
It’s a Saturday night so the place is packed but their usual booth is now permanently reserved for them. A detail that annoys the entire staff since it’s prime real estate for actual paying customers. But the three always leaveverygenerous tips anytime they’re here so no one’s really complaining.
Byzantine’s eyes drift to mine before he settles into the booth. I quickly glance back down to the drinks I’m making, frazzled that he’s caught me staring. But before looking away, I can’t help but notice the attention the guys are gathering in the bar. It’s inevitable whenever they walk into a room. People might not know how deadly they are but the unmistakable air to them can’t be ignored. It literally rolls off of them.
Women and men can’t help but watch and stare. Not to mention all three are confoundingly gorgeous. Like how is that even possible?
Bastian and Connor are related so I guess it runs in the family but Byzantine? Well, he’s just in a league of his own. Or maybe I’m just biased. Everyone loses their shine when he’s around.
A tendril of jealousy curls around my throat at the thought of someone else trying to catch his attention tonight. It’s not unusual but Byzantine typically doesn’t bother with any of it.
Now I’m not so sure.
We’ve been avoiding each other. I have absolutely no idea where we stand, and I honestly don’t have that much of a desire to figure it out. It’s not from a lack of caring, I just haven’t felt like myself since I woke up so far deep inside this dark hole that I’m having a hard time finding my way back out. Lenix has been sleeping over more often than not. Probably picking up on the fact that I would rather die than be left alone right now. So you know—fun times all around.
I try to keep my attention on the customers in front of me but my attention keeps drifting back to their booth. Of course, Byzantine looks sexy even with a busted face and I chastise myself at being so fucking basic that a man who’s been caught in a brawl makes me hot and bothered.
I’m not the only one with that train of thought according to the tables of women glancing over hungrily every so often. I resist the urge to chuck ice at their faces and dip my head back down, trying to concentrate on my task at hand.
After a few minutes, Lenix calls me over to the service bar. As usual she’s serving their table as per Connor’s long-standing request, a detail I haven’t failed to notice.
“Have you seen Bizzy’s face? What’s that about?” she whisper-yells, her tray covering half her face as if trying to hide behind it.
“Yeah, it’s hard not to fucking notice,” I bite back, my frustration obviously aimed at the man in question and not towards her. “Not like I’ll find out…” I trail off as I watch Lenix punch her order in. She glances over to me, the glare of the computer illuminating her worried features.
