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He lifts his hand to the back of his neck, but upon seeing me staring at it, he drops it before he can indulge in his stress-relieving habits.
But the fact that he had to do that and hide it in the first place is telltale enough.
I’m about to get in his space, when the referee announces that the fight is resuming.
I narrow my eyes on my brother and he narrows his back.
When I jump back in the ring, I find Nikolai glaring down at me with a bloodied nose—that was my doing, by the way—and a tight posture.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” I ask casually, then point a thumb at myself. “Want a piece of this?”
As soon as the referee gives the go, Nikolai pounces on me with the vengeance of a thousand ghost warriors.
I manage to stand my ground for the first few hits, but then he backs me into a corner and nearly jeopardizes my Greek god looks.
Thankfully, the referee manages to break us apart.
“Jesus Christ.” I spit out a mouthful of blood and grin. “I know you’re jealous about your inability to ever reach my superior looks, but tone it down a notch, would you?”
“You’re going down, motherfucker.” He punches his bandaged fists together.
I suppose that’s a no about breaking the news about my cock’s unorthodox relationship with his sister’s cunt.
But then again, his cousin took my sister, so this could be seen as fair payback. Just saying.
When he charges again, I punch him in the ribs as hard as I can. Nikolai recovers faster than lightning and knocks me down on the canvas, then hails me with fast, sharp punches.
Fucking fuck.
“Hey, twat,” I manage between groans. “That hurts.”
“Exactly the point, motherfucker.”
I block some of his hits, but some of them land straight on my rib cage.
I wonder if I’m bleeding on the floor. Perhaps my ending won’t be as glorious as I thought it would be. Preferably in the middle of my studio, surrounded by my masterpieces that come to life à la Pygmalion style.
“Is this the best you can do, mafia prince?” I taunt with a barely audible voice. “You punch like a girl.”
A certain girl comes to mind whenever erotic violence is involved.
Only, I don’t mind if she shatters my ribs as long as she rides my cock and chokes on it for redemption right after.
“Stop!”
The voice filters through my haziness, and I pause. Please don’t tell me I lowered my standards and asked Nikolai to stop.
It’s then I realize it does sound like mine. Only one person has the audacity to be so chaotically emotional while sharing my otherworldly physical traits.
Surprisingly, Nikolai jerks back, putting the episode of “Punching Bag Landon” on hold as he stares at who I assume is my brother. His eyes narrow and darken and his nostrils flare.
What. The. Fuck?
I’m going to kill this bastard. How dare he look at Bran—my fucking twin brother—like he’s his next bitch?
My. Fucking. Brother.
TheLandon King’s identical twin.
