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“She’s waiting in the foyer, my friend,” Josiah murmured, completing his customary bow from the waist after we had thrashed the shit out of each other in his ring.
“Grateful for it.” I slapped his shoulder and grinned when he stiffened. J hated physical contact of any sort. That didn’t mean I refused to give it to him.
All rounder asshole. That’s me.
Above me, Rafe snorted. “Classy, Killian.”
“Every day, brother.” I tossed his snark back at him andducked beneath the ropes. Shoving my feet into my shoes, the laces still tied, and bundling my shirt against my sweaty chest, I grabbed my gym bag, gave both men a backward wave, and headed for the door.
Bare-knuckle fighting achieved little in the long run, but it gave both Rafe and I a damn fine reason to nut our stresses out on each other rather than irritating the regulars who walked through our doors.
Fray’s patrons did the right thing in general terms. They came, they laughed, they played, and cameagain—but a few broke the rules by intention, most notably the man who had abused Rafe’s sub and wife-to-be. Of course, we always had the odd one or two who made a name for themselves.
Those were banned faster than they could claim unfairness. The groupswere harder to pin down on account of their irregular pairings. Smart offenders alternated who they traveled with and what sort of activity they took up inside the club.
Challenging enough to appear fair when I knew they deserved the street grazing theircollective asses and damaging enough to be a royal pain in my ass. If Fray got a reputation for backing the wrong kind of patron, it fucked with the safe place Rafe worked so hard to achieve.
Hence the bare-knuckle fights. We couldn’t beat the shit out ofthe offenders every time, so we took our angst out on each other. I hoped there was some sense of logic in that, because I had no better way to drown out woes than to duke it out in an even match.
I turned into the empty foyer. Staring around the small,bare space with its eighties-esque green pile carpet, sterile white walls, and metal desk that could have doubled as a gurney, I paused. I could have sworn she’d been here a moment ago—there. A shimmer of pink-and-gray feathers drew my eye.
Pivoting on myheel, I grabbed the gym’s front door before it closed on my hand and took the two street front steps at a run.
And nearly toppled over the emu shifter I’d chased in the first place.
“Big fellas don’t stop well, do they?” Lux mused, leaning against the wall beside the gym.
I suppressed a grin that threatened to ruin the game we played. The little minx had been waiting for me.
Two can play on your terms, Little Bird.
A sheath of long blonde hair tinted the palest pink hung in a sheet down her back, and stiletto boots gave the already tall shifter extra height. Still dressed in the skintight dark denim jeans she favored, her feathers partially transformed into a row of fluff that bared her stomach and most of her cleavage, she managed to steal every wisp of oxygen in the vicinity.
“A gray’s strength finds its stride in the ring.” I held up a pair of matching split knuckles. “Seems it holds true for wedge-tailed eagle shifters, too.” We had managed to keep Rafe’s beast out of common knowledge, but I had no doubt Lux knew every detail that wandered in and out of Fray, including the staff's secrets.
“And here I thought you were all bounce and puff.” She wrinkled her nose as she pushed off the wall and fell into step beside me.
“You know a kangaroo is more than the stereotype.” I fakedhorror at the thought, but couldn’t help casting her a sideways glance.
Lux always had her shit together. Even when her not-favorite drunksarced up at last call, she managed to extricate herself without raising her voice to offer the smallest but cutestfuck yousmile. The few times I’d seen her play in the club’s lower rooms for harder connoisseurs gave me an insight into the sassy-as-fuck bartender I drooled over in my spare time.
One: she never had sex with anyone.
Two: she never bared up for anyone.
Three, and my utmost favorite of my short but sexy list: by all that was unholy, she loved pain.
And what does a sadist like me want morethan a little pain slut to satisfy his every need? Mind, if I met her anywhere else, I’d throw it all aside to worship the sassy bartender—she had dug her way that far beneath my skin. But she was staff, and that put her off limits.
My rules, not Rafe’s.
Nor did they apply to anyone else.
If the rest of Fray’s staff wanted to fuck themselves silly, I was good with it, providing they did their damn jobs and turned up on time.
I eyed the silver band she wore at her throat in lieu of the real thing. Lux didn’t belong to anyone, hadn’t been in a relationship or dynamic as long as I’d known her, but the collar she wore prevented customers from hitting on her with any regularity.
I cleared my throat. “Played with James lately?” That one sort of fell out without permission. I was too much of an arrogant ass to own the mistake, so I stared straight ahead and walked on.
