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“I’m going to go hang out with Paxton,” I told them before walking away and leaving them to the bullshit they were currently throwing at each other.
I quickly made my way through the crowd, who in fact did not part for me as they had for Paxton earlier. Along the way, I tried to channel my inner peace, which was very lacking at the moment.
I hadn’t said anything, but I was a little unhinged about the situation. We were fighting wars on multiple fronts, and if we didn’t need this money, I would have never been okay with a fight tonight—we were dealing with too much to handle Paxton potentially getting hurt. At least it was over. Everything was fine. I could breathe—I pushed open the heavy locker room door, and my eyes widened in shock at the scene before me. There, standing in the center of the room, was a woman clad in nothing but a barely there bra and underwear–the areola of her boobs clearly visible. There were a couple of other fighters getting ready in the room, but her attention was fixed on just one of them. Paxton. Who was unwrapping his hands, an annoyed look on his face, and his gaze carefully averted.
Good boy. Wouldn’t want to have to stab him in the dick right after he’d just won, when I was in need of that dick.
I lost it at that point. Without a second thought, I instinctively reached for the weapon concealed in my pocket as I strode towards the girl, grabbing her hair and dragging her to the wall where I slammed her against it. The cold steel of the knife met my fingers as I brandished it, my grip tight and determined as I held it against her neck. I watched, like I was having an out of body experience, as a drop of blood beaded and then trailed down her neck from where I’d pressed too hard in the skin.
My gaze was fixed on her wide-eyed terror, how the color drained from her cheeks…how her lips were quivering with a mix of shock and fear.
My voice was laced with venom as I hissed, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The room fell silent as my words hung in the air, punctuating the tension that had gripped the space. Paxton was mine. And no low level fighter groupie was going to touch him. I didn’t care if he wasn’t interested. It wasn’t allowed.
Whimpers were streaming from her mouth as I pressed the knife in harder, another trickle of blood caressing her skin. It was amazing how fragile we were as humans. One inch more and her artery would be severed. And she’d be gone…just like that.
“Aurora,” Paxton murmured from behind me. “Put the knife down, baby. No need to murder someone on my behalf.”
“No need? She was going totouchyou.”
His body rumbled against my back, my nipples hardening into points. “Love when you get jealous, sweetheart…but the sheep are getting scared.”
I tore my gaze away from her neck, to the other fighters in the room who did indeed look like they were about to shit their pants.
“Just let her go,” he whispered soothingly, his breath on the back of my neck sending goosebumps spiraling across my skin. Paxton started humming, and it took me a second to focus on the tune long enough to realize it was our song. “Sweet Child O’ Mine”.
I took a deep shuddering breath as I finally calmed down.
“The knife,” he reminded me gently.
Oh right, it was still pressed against her quivering skin.
I slowly removed it, keeping my gaze locked on hers the whole time as I glared at her, so the threat was clear.
“Run,” I finally commanded.
She screamed. Literally screamed. Before she scurried towards the exit. “You’re a psycho,” she tossed behind her, not brave enough to say that to my face. I was faintly aware of Paxton groaning.
Wrong move. I darted forward, grabbing that long hair again, and swinging her towards the wall.
“Holy shit,” someone muttered. “I’m so turned on…and terrified.”
Paxton growled, but I paid them no mind, turning around so I was facing him.
“I’m very turned on right now,” he sulked. “Are you going to do anything about it?”
“Most definitely.”
The other fighters were keeping to the far side of the room in a group now, like that could protect them from the crazy woman.
News flash.
It couldn’t.
“Out,” I growled, still keeping a tight hold of the squirming, squirreling worm in my hands.
The fighters dashed out of the locker room like their balls were on fire.
