Chapter 1

1

GRACE

“ W hat are you doing tonight?”

I cringe as I gather up my things and slip them all into my backpack. Whenever Lila begins a conversation with that exact sentence, it’s because she’s made plans for herself and wants me to come along. It never fails. But just about every single time, she ends up going home with somebody she meets at whatever place she drags me to.

“I have a paper to write tonight,” I tell her.

“Come on, you can put it off for a night.”

“I can’t?—”

“I know you, Grace. I know you get all your work done early,” she replies. “I know you can spare one night to go hang out with your best friend.”

I laugh. “You don’t need a wingman. I’m pretty sure you’re going to do perfectly fine on your own, babe. You always do.”

“Don’t you want to know what we’re doing?”

“I’m going back to our dorm room to write a paper. And if I decide to get wild later, I might go down to the student union and get some coffee.”

“No, you’re not. Tonight, we’re going to an underground MMA fight out at the Warehouse. I know how much you love fights.”

I groan. I am a big fan of MMA fighting, and she knows it. My dad got me into it when I was a kid, and I’ve been hooked on the sport ever since. It’s the one thing he and I bonded over together. I love the intensity and, yeah, even the brutality. It’s a fun sport to watch. That’s why she’s dangling that in front of my nose like catnip.

“So, who’s the guy who convinced you to go see a fight?” I ask. “And don’t lie. I know fights aren’t usually your thing.”

A sly grin touches her lips. “His name is Chris.”

“And does Chris know you’re coming? Or are you stalking him?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Stalking, then,” I reply with a laugh. “How do you know he’s going to even be there?”

“Because I heard him talking to his friends about it. That’s how I knew there was even a fight tonight, to begin with. Duh. It’s not like I keep up with that kind of thing.”

We share a laugh, and I shake my head. “You are a terrible influence. You know that, right?”

“So, does that mean you’ll go with me?”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“But you’re going to, right?”

I sigh dramatically. I really should go back to my dorm room and work on my paper. I don’t like leaving things until the last minute. I never put out my best work when I’m under the gun, which is why I like being ahead of the game. But it’s been a little while since the last time I went out, and I kind of feel like I can use a little fun. Plus, getting to see a fight gives me something to talk to my dad about the next time I see him. Our love of professional fighting is about the only thing we really have in common.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Professor Bryson watching me. He’s standing behind his lectern at the front of the room, pretending to read the papers in front of him, but I can sense his eyes on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to be alone. Professor Bryson has been leering at me all semester long. He makes me so uncomfortable that if I didn’t need the class, I would have transferred out long ago. Unfortunately for me, I need this class to satisfy my requirements.

“Walk out with me,” I tell Lila.

“What?”

“Walk out with me,” I repeat. “Come on.”

Snatching up my bag, I slip my arm through Lila’s and practically drag her out of the lecture hall. Only when we’re in the corridor outside, surrounded by a horde of other students, and out from under the leering gaze of Professor Bryson, does it seem like I can breathe again.

“What was that all about?” Lila asks.

“Professor Bryson creeps me out.”

“Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Lila gives me a sly grin. “Well, I can guarantee he won’t be at the Warehouse tonight, so you’ll be safe. And don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

I laugh as we walk down the crowded hallway. As we go, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see Professor Bryson standing outside the lecture hall door, watching me. It sends a cold chill down my spine.

I get out of the car and glance around. The parking lot is filled with people drinking and partying—pre-gaming before the night’s festivities. The Warehouse is exactly that—an old warehouse. It’s been repurposed and refurbished and now hosts parties, dances, frat and sorority events, and tonight, an underground MMA fight. The place itself is dingy and a little grimy, but that seems to be by design. People want that dirty underground experience, I guess.

“There’s more people here than I expected,” I say.

“Everybody loves a good fight.”

I scoff. “Like you’re even going to watch the fight. You’re here for the guy you’re stalking. Speaking of which, where is he?”

“Probably inside already. Let’s go.”

There’s a buzz in the air as we make our way into the venue. Everybody is dressed up, and they seem so excited, you’d think they were walking the red carpet with all the accompanying glitz and glam of a title fight in Vegas.

“This is crazy,” I say.

The inside of the Warehouse has been set up with a ring in the middle and bleachers all around. There are more seats on the second floor overlooking the ring that are already full. Music booms through the space so loud it’s hurting my ears. It’s forcing people to shout to be heard over it, making it even worse. There are carts with drinks and snacks off to the side, and in the corner is a booth with people taking bets on the fight. I can’t deny that the atmosphere is electric. It really seems like a prize fight like Caesar's … though obviously, on a much smaller scale.

“Come on, I see a couple of seats up front,” Lila says.

Before I can say a word, Lila grabs my hand and drags me down an aisle between a pair of bleachers. And sure enough, there is a pair of seats in the front row.

“Quick,” she says. “Sit.”

I do as she says and drop onto the hard aluminum bench. Lila throws her jacket down onto the bench beside me and looks around, no doubt searching the faces in the crowd for the object of her obsession. The curl that creeps across her lips tells me she’s spotted her prey. I follow her gaze and see a tall, blond guy standing with what looks like some of his frat brothers. He’s got that typical air of an entitled frat boy about him, which I find an automatic turn-off.

“I’m going to go get us a drink,” she says.

“Don’t leave me here alone, Lila.”

“What? When have I ever done something like that?”

“All the time,” I respond. “It happens almost every time we go out. You beg me to go and hook up with some guy and leave me all alone. Please don’t do that tonight.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Do you swear?”

“I swear. I’ll make sure he gives you a lift home,” she says with a wink.

“You’re so sweet,” I reply dryly.

Lila flounces away, ostensibly to fetch us a drink, but part of me wonders if I’m going to see her again once she gets her hooks into Chris. She seems unusually fixated on him. He’s a good-looking guy; there’s no question about that. But he seems kind of douchey. To me, he looks like the kind of guy you need to watch your drink around when you’re at the bar. But that seems to be Lila’s type, so to each their own, I guess.

I glance around, doing my best to avoid meeting the eyes of all the testosterone-laden college boys, hoping they’ll take a hint and leave me alone. The minutes tick by, and I start to worry that Lila has abandoned me when she drops down on the bench next to me.

“Thank God,” I say and take the drink she brought.

“What? Did you think I was going to bail on you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I bailed on you once. One time. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Probably not.”

She laughs. “You suck.”

“How’d things go with your victim?”

“Good. First contact was made,” she says. “Now, I need to let it percolate.”

“I see you’ve planned this out.”

“Seduction is an art form, my dear. And I am Picasso.”

I laugh and shake my head. Lila is far more outgoing and social than I am, and honestly, there’s a little piece of me that’s envious of her for that. She can talk to anybody, anywhere, at any time. She’s not shy or inhibited. I don’t need the attention from men that she seems to crave so badly. I never have. But sometimes, I’d like to be a little less timid.

The lights in the Warehouse dim, and the music abruptly cuts off. A bright spotlight shines down from above, falling on the robed figure striding out of the locker room as his walk-out music starts to play.

A man jumps into the ring with a microphone in his hand. “Coming to the ring, let’s hear you put your hands together for the Duke of Destruction, Tommy James!”

The robed man throws his hands into the air and bounces on his heels the rest of the way down the aisle. He steps into the ring, throws his robe off, and flexes his muscles, showing off his toned physique. He throws a combination of punches and dances around the ring, his movements fast and fluid.

The spotlight shifts to highlight another man coming out of the locker room, and the walk-out music switches from hip-hop to the heavy drum beats and driving guitar of a hard rock band. As the music reaches a thunderous crescendo, another man in a robe with a hood pulled low bounces out of the tunnel.

“All right, now, let’s give it up for the God of War,” the announcer bellows. “Put your hands together and make some noise for Griffin Harris!”

The Warehouse erupts with applause, and I find myself watching the man carefully. Surely, it couldn’t be the same Griffin Harris I’m thinking of. He was on the professional MMA circuit for a little while and had a real shot at being a champion. What would he be doing in an underground fight club like this? Maybe the better question is, when he had so much going for him and a chance at immortality, why had he up and disappeared like that? I haven’t heard his name in a while and always wondered what happened to him.

As he passes me, our eyes meet, and my heart drops straight into my stomach. My skin tingles and my pulse begins to race as electricity crackles in the air between us. Griffin’s gaze lingers on mine for a long moment—long enough that Lila notices and nudges me in the side with her elbow—before he turns and finishes the brief journey to the ring.

As he ducks beneath the ropes, throws his robe off, and starts to warm up, his crystal blue gaze finds mine again. My heart is beating so hard against my chest; it’s almost painful, and my panties are so wet, it’s uncomfortable. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to anybody before, and though I try to turn away, I can’t. My eyes are glued to him.

Griffin finally looks away as he focuses on the task before him, and I can finally breathe again. I take a moment to let the fuzziness in my head fade.

“My God,” I mutter to myself.