7. ~Skylar~

A deafening cacophony inundated me.

Roars, hoots and hollers, wolf-whistles.

And coming through loud and clear was the usual when I first stepped into a new underground fighting circuit.

Disbelief.

Amusement.

Resistance.

Why you ask? Why fucking else? Because I was a little woman.

As simple and as complicated as that.

And, yeah, I was little. I was barely five-foot-three.

But I was also all toned and packed muscle.

Most important of all in this particular situation was that I was trained.

Very well-trained.

Well, there might be something that took top billing over that actually.

The thirst I had for this sort of unchecked, ferocious violence.

As I took position inside the red cage, I felt it burning through my veins, gaining power and potency until it became like raging hellfire.

All-encompassing.

All-consuming.

And several levels beyond empowering.

Exactly what I needed right now, and what I'd been missing since I'd made the decision to come back here and try to shove myself into a mundane existence devoid of all of this, the danger, the thrills, so much of it that made me feel alive.

After what had happened with Sebastian last week in that stairwell—what could best be described as an erotic clash—it had awakened that thing in me. I'd been trying ever since to tamper it down, to bury it again. I'd even kept away from Luxe and everyone, even my parents. I'd been in such a state that I'd used the lame excuse of being sick to keep them at bay. Food poisoning of all things. Just what I didn't like thinking about because I had a whole fear about throwing up. I had since I'd first gotten E. coli when I was a teenager from an undercooked chicken pizza. Urgh. That was how desperate I'd been to try to center myself and pull myself back from the edge of fucking darkness.

That was how bad it was when I opened that door.

Something Sebastian and his posse didn't understand.

They just wanted the weapon that Onyx was.

For something.

I still didn't know what.

As if that hadn't been enough, I hadn't been able to get Sebastian's touch off my mind either. His taste. Those skillful fingers of his wreaking havoc on my body, making me come with an intensity and power that eclipsed every fucking thing.

The need to replicate it, or more like, escalate it, had been right there nagging at me, like an itch I couldn't scratch. Without him. Without that dark intensity and that insane passion that had raged between us like wildfire.

I'd even spent hours sitting in my sketching zone trying to get him out of my system that way. That had resulted in pages upon pages of him, even of us together in that stairwell losing our shit all over one another.

At least it had managed to purge that need—for the most part.

I'd almost reached a stable place and had every intention of returning to Luxe tomorrow, strapping on my mask and an unaffected demeanor, and getting back down to the new life I was trying to make here.

And then the texts had come in.

They were burned into my brain.

They'd boiled my fucking blood.

That sociopath, Jett.

Unknown Number: This isn't a game you can win, sugar.

Game? Yeah, that was all anything was to him. Some sick fucking game.

Unknown Number: I'm gonna rage-fuck you until you're raw and begging me to show mercy.

Unknown Number: What's that? You don't beg. The way I've heard it, you've gone soft. Gonna be a lot easier to bring you to your knees for me now, make you my good little girlfriend the way it was always meant to be.

To say that bastard's messages had flipped me the fuck out would be a severe understatement.

The words themselves were bad enough.

But it was also what existed beyond that.

The fact that he was looking into my activities here.

The fact he thought he could use my going soft as ammunition, as a point of vulnerability to exploit.

That was what had allowed Sebastian to get so close too.

It was what had stopped me from putting down his brother.

And now Jett was trying to do the same thing, or at least threatening to.

He issued a whole load of threats to a whole load of people and not all of them panned out. It was impossible to tell which ones actually would. The fact he thought he could threaten me, though, was the point.

So I'd come down to this shithole tonight.

This particular underground fight venue had even been known in and around the institute. That was how notorious it was.

A large part of that was because the fight literally didn't stop until one of the fighters tapped out. If they didn't, it would continue on, risking actual death.

Just the stakes I needed right now.

I breathed in the atmosphere.

A rush of cheers went through the area as the opponent I would be going up against made a show of circling the ring and pumping his fists.

I rolled my eyes.

He was even wearing a gold satin robe, his shoulder-length black hair flying all over the place as he darted around.

As he continued showing off, Damien strode into the ring toward me, grinning.

"It's done," he told me. "Carl Vicars."

"I don't need names."

"You do. If you weren't newly returned to Rossun you'd know who he is."

I cocked an eyebrow.

"He agreed to fight a woman all too easily."

"Because you vouched for me."

That was the deal we'd made when we'd bumped into each other earlier.

I'd been fired up and in no mood for the bullshit he'd thrown at me that first time we'd met and he'd read the room well and basically fed off the destructive energy I was putting out there, and he'd been all over me. Well, not physically. Apart from wrapping an arm around me, which I'd barely registered in my current state. But all over me, wanting to be around me. Something about pissing off Sebastian, which I'd obviously been all for. I'd even agreed to make a deal—he'd talk me up and I'd give him a taste, as he'd deemed it.

I was an unknown fighter here, I couldn't just step into this sort of place and be allowed to go up against somebody twice my size who could bench press that and more. Not without being vouched for by a respected fighter, which I'd found out Damien was.

Damien told me, "Vicars has a predilection for pretty little young things."

I hissed through my teeth. Just the kind of assfuck who would've been my target before.

"He's gonna try to do a lot more than just fight you, Bluebell. The refs here aren't gonna stop it either. Only if you tap out."

"That won't be happening," I seethed.

A sadistic smirk played on his lips. "Fuck, yeah, baby."

"I'm not your baby."

"Yeah, you're not my type. Too mouthy, not pliant enough for my tastes."

"Full-on submissives for you then?"

"You don't even know," he answered with a sly grin. His gaze darted around the space again and then that grin widened. "Seb knows it, but I have a feeling he's gonna neglect to remember it in a moment when you pay up for my part of our little deal. Any time now."

I followed his gaze and a jolt went through me as I caught sight of Sebastian looking as stylish as ever in his leather jacket and designer jeans combo with one of his white dress shirts open at the collar and only partially buttoned. Those tattoos just took the hotness factor up several more notches. Not to mention, the flood of memories that tried to inundate me of how fucking good he'd touched me and set my body on fire.

Stop.

I slid my gaze to Caleb standing beside him.

More like guarding him really, with the way he was tight to him and glaring at anybody who got within a few feet of Sebastian.

His blond hair had that whole sexy bedhead look going on. He was wearing that brown aviator jacket that did his broad shoulders a lot of justice. In his obviously tense state watching out for Sebastian, or whatever the hell was really going on, his muscles were tense, everything pulled so taut that I could even make out his hard abs through his white tee. He was a bigger guy than Sebastian, taller by a few inches, and broader too, while the former was more compact packed muscle.

Caleb spotted me first and he nudged Sebastian.

The moment those amber eyes clashed with mine, a rush of electricity rolled through me, igniting my nerve endings.

I swallowed it down, then stepped up closer to Damien.

"Here's your payment."

In the next second, I fisted my hand in his hoodie and jerked him down to me, our lips colliding.

There was a brief moment of awkwardness on both our parts, before we managed to rise to the nature of the show we were putting on, both for different reasons.

And then his arms came around me, slamming my body up against his, while I slid my fingers into his hair and thrust my tongue into his mouth.

He met my ferocity head on.

It was hard, rough, and… empty.

Definitely just a show.

When we'd finished eating each other's faces, he pulled back and swung his head toward Sebastian and Caleb.

Caleb was staring open-mouthed, worry flickering in his eyes too.

And Sebastian… well, he looked pissed.

Beyond pissed.

Seething rage burned into Damien for what seemed like minutes instead of seconds, for the intensity of it alone. And then his gaze snapped to mine.

That ire didn't dissipate one bit.

If anything it was bolstered by something else.

Something animalistic.

Damien chuckled, very pleased with himself, then turned to leave the ring, as that showboat was almost done with his warmup bullshit.

Before he could get far, I shot out my hand and snatched his hoodie, hissing low, "We're even now. Hatchet buried too. Clear?"

He grinned, ridiculously over-pleased by the events of tonight. "Oh, hell yeah. Crystal. This was well worth standing down on that parking space bull. Good luck with Vicars, Bluebell."

Luck.

That had nothing to do with it.

As Vicars entered the ring, I walked to my corner and kicked my hoodie right into the back, then adjusted the black wraps around my wrists and hands that I'd brought with me from my abundant supply of equipment for stuff just like this at home.

"Ain't gonna need these," he said, making a show of removing his white wraps. He flashed me a smarmy grin. "Looking forward to this."

I ignored the provocation and him foolishly believing he didn't need to worry about going up against me. And I took him in. His black hair was slicked back with a ton of gel into a tight man-bun. He slid off his gold robe, making a show of then tossing it with a burst of aggression into the corner, revealing a pair of white shorts beneath.

He licked his lips at me as he slid his hands over his bare muscled chest, then flexed his biceps at me too.

"Like what you see?" he said, stroking his goatee as he eye-fucked me in my vibrant-blue sports bra and my black yoga pants. "Because I'm sure as fuck liking what you've got."

This asshole, seriously.

When I didn't respond and just glared, he smirked. "Want a piece of this, kitten?"

"You're gonna be getting more than a piece," I bit back.

"That's what I'm hoping for. Can't wait to make a pretty picture of your face with these." He kissed his fists. "Then I'll lick all your spilled blood off your hot, nubile body." He gestured around at the crowds gathered. "Gonna put on a hell of a show as I skewer your cunt with my big dick, making you bounce like my whore and scream for me. I'll bind your hands so you can't tap out either."

Well, Damien certainly hadn't undersold how demented this bastard was.

He stared as he licked his lips at me, then thrust his tongue between his spread fingers and wiggled it in a wholly disgusting display.

He was clearly desiring a reaction from me. Wanting me to balk at the sexual aggression and putrid threats coming off him.

Unfortunately for him, all it was doing was firing me up and making damn sure I brought every ounce of my brutality to the fight.

As the referee, in a crimson velour tracksuit, entered the ring and guided Vicars back, I caught sight of Sebastian to the left side of the cage. His fingers were brutalizing the chain-link in a white knuckle grip as he fixed his deadly glare on Vicars, obviously having heard what he'd said.

Caleb was grasping his shoulder and whispering something in his ear that had a war taking place on Sebastian's face, cutting into that rage and the silently communicated promise of decimation he was throwing Vicars' way. He was clearly struggling for control and Caleb looked noticeably worried about that.

Welcome to the club, asshole.

Now he knew a fraction of what I'd been burdened with.

Something he'd made a hell of a lot heavier with his bullshit pursuit, with his determination to call out Onyx. So much so that I'd come here tonight to unleash in a violent purge.

The ref stepped between us.

Just before he announced the start of the fight, Vicars reached out with his right hand for a fist bump.

I merely glared at it.

That was a sign of respect, the hell I was gonna rise to that after the clear disrespect and threats he'd been tossing my way.

He sneered. "Damn, girl, I can't wait to tame the fuck out of you."

Commotion around the side of the ring drew our attention and I looked out to see Sebastian trying to bolt around to the entrance of the ring. Caleb was rushing after him and then Damien was there too, the two of them holding him back from coming at Vicars, it looked like.

What the hell was he playing at?

This was my fight, not his.

Why did I care? Why was his presence radiating through me and affecting me at all?

No. It wasn't. It fucking wasn't.

I wouldn't let it be so.

All those complicated thoughts thankfully evaporated when the ref signaled the start of the fight.

Vicars didn't waste any time, bolting toward me and throwing his fist.

I twisted and sidestepped it and he stumbled at the destabilization of the miss.

I spun into a kick, driving my foot into his back, and he staggered, clawing at the chain-link to maintain his balance.

The crowd roared, thundering all around us.

"Little bitch!" Vicars yelled over the noise, pushing off the ring.

He lunged at me and attempted another cement-block force punch.

I brought my arm down, taking one hell of a bruise in order to deflect it. The radiating pain just served to ramp up my fight, though, and I welcomed it, then smashed my forearm into the underside of his chin, making his head snap back.

I used the disorientation, to jump up, fist my hand in his hair and jerk him down, ripping some strands out in the process, as I then slammed my knee into his face.

Blood exploded from his nose.

I assaulted him with a hammer fist, then swept my leg at his ankles, the brutal combo sending him crashing onto his front on the ring floor.

The crowd went wild and I heard people screaming to switch their bets.

Euphoria coursed through me as I took in the half-beaten shithead down on the ground by my hand, at my mercy—or lack thereof.

"Who's owning who, asshole?" I spat, before delivering a kick to his ribs that had him grunting and rolling onto his back.

"Come on! Give me your fight!" I found myself yelling then.

I needed more.

Way more.

I was nowhere close to being satiated yet.

Vicars had gone down way too easy.

Where was the fight?

The brutality?

The pain?

The blood?

The fucking struggle?

Give me more!

Give me fucking everything!

My hands were shaking with the need.

I was like an addict in a bad state of withdrawal.

And I guess that was the case to an extent.

Tasting this again… it was a heady fucking thing.

I wouldn't just settle for an appetizer now.

Vicars pushed back to his feet.

This time, he didn't go the fist route.

I guess he'd learned his lesson there.

Instead, he rushed me and snagged me across the waist in a football tackle, slamming my back into the chain-link right beside tons of spectators.

He snarled and licked across the tops of my breasts, then tugged at my sports bra with his teeth.

Urgh.

"Mmm. Feisty kitty kat."

"Jeez, that's cringeworthy even to me," I heard Damien say.

"Motherfucker," Sebastian's growl sounded.

I ignored it all and slammed my elbows down into the soft spots between the dickhead's neck and shoulder blades. He cursed, his grip breaking around me. A knee to the gut got him out of my space, forcing him back.

Before he could make another move, I executed a spinning kick that clocked him across the side of the face.

He wavered and cursed me out again.

"Is that all you've got, kitten?" I called out, crooking my finger at him.

He bellowed, completely irate. "Fucking cunt!"

He ran at me again and I dodged another blow, my speed eclipsing his.

But then I caught a glimpse of a blade a moment before it sliced across my forearm, bloodying up my lotus tattoo.

I hissed and jumped back, sweeping my hand over the droplets of blood that were trickling down my skin within moments.

He'd cut pretty deep. Not enough to need stitches, something I knew all about.

That euphoria from earlier rolled through me, the sting and the blood, and the sight of him sporting that fucked-up bloodied nose and the scrape across the side of his face all colliding in a delicious tapestry of violence that fed that dark part of me.

As he went to lunge again, I snatched his knife-wielding wrist, spun into him, then delivered a chop to the inside of his arm that forced his grip to relinquish.

Then I tossed the blade across the ring.

He managed to snag my shoulder right after the toss, then he hauled me into the chain-link again.

As I bounced off it, his fist came at my face, connecting this time, blood exploding on my lip.

A knee to my gut and him yanking on my ponytail, had me slamming down onto one knee, throwing out my palm to stop a full-on crash.

He jerked on my hair, ripping strands out and making my scalp burn in the process, as he forced my gaze to his while he stood over me, looking mighty pleased with himself.

I swept my tongue over my dripping lip then smirked up at him through bloodied teeth.

He jolted at my reaction, not knowing what to do with it.

An animalistic snarl ripped from my throat, and then I was launching myself at him.

He was so shocked that he lost his grip on my ponytail.

I slammed into him, driving him down to the floor, then wailing on him, battering his face, his chest, his ribs.

When he tried to make a grab for me, I hooked my legs around his head, and twisted, trapping him in a headlock with my thighs in the next moment.

He struggled and tried to hit and claw at me, but the blunt force and the raw scrapes only took me deeper into that animal headspace.

I could feel him weakening against my grip, feel my power usurping his, feel his body giving in, submitting to me.

Thunderous roars and shouts sounded all around us.

I couldn't tell if they were cheers or sounds of indignation that their prized fighter was at my mercy, being utterly dominated by me.

I didn't fucking care.

I just wanted more.

More of this perverted shithead flailing under the force of my power.

More pain, more blood, more dominance.

"Tap out!" I heard people start to yell to him.

"Do it, Vicars!"

"Shit, she's killing him!"

"Tap out!"

Killing him?

Caught up in my swirling, euphoric thoughts, in that savage headspace, it took all that screaming for me to notice that my opponent was turning blue, barely struggling now.

I wasn't just incapacitating him, I was choking the life out of him.

About to fucking well end him.

One less sicko on the streets. Do it. It's justice. Your mission. You're back. This is who you are. Fucking do it!

The next thing I knew, I was zeroing in on the knife he'd slashed me with.

I snatched it up, spun it in my hand, then brought it down toward his chest.

But it never made contact.

A strong hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me up short.

My hand shook with determination and furor that somebody was interfering in my fight, in my deliverance of fucking justice.

Just as the ref ran into the ring, along with some supporters of Vicars, the knife was wrenched from my hand. I heard a clang of it hitting the rough floor, and then I was dragged out of the way, my back smacking against a wall of hard muscle. A hand wrapped around my arms, confining them down at my sides, another hooked around my throat, forcing my head back and stealing away my ability to draw in a full, unencumbered breath.

The shock of it enabled my captor to drag me out of the ring and through the crowds.

Everything was a haze of blazing red.

No! I'm not done! I'm not fucking done!

I was bucking and screaming. Shrieking and snarling like a wild thing, really.

I caught sight of Damien coming toward us, just as a door opened and I was dragged through, but then I saw Caleb shoving him back and getting up in his space as I was pulled in there.

I heard the rough clang of a lock a moment before I was spun around and shoved up against the wall, a hand wrapping around my throat again in a split second.

Flaming amber eyes blazed back at me.

Sebastian fucking Thorn.

I bucked against him, digging my nails into his hand wrapped around my throat, my other hand clawing at his chest through his partially opened shirt. "I wasn't done. I'm not done. How fucking dare you try to—"

"I know." He grasped my jaw. "I know." He swiped his thumb over my bloodied lip, spreading the blood all over. "I know you haven't gotten it all out of your system."

I hissed at him. How dare he try to connect with me, try to placate me? "I fucking hate you."

"Then hate me, beautiful." He swiped my arm, the blood from the stabbing coating his fingers. "Hurt me." He spread them all over my chest, slicking the skin with my own blood, spreading up to my chin, then wiping it across my cheeks and mouth. "Unleash all over me."

The familiar coppery tang hit my tongue as I parted my lips and slicked them clean.

The depravity of it, of him making me taste the results of that violence, just ramped up all the rest. It collided with that invigorating woodsy scent of his, the heat radiating off him, the hellfire blazing in his eyes, trapping me in a swirling vortex of intensity and desperate, animalistic need.

I dislodged his grip and then I was shrieking and shoving my hands into his chest.

He jarred against the side of the bathroom stall and I was there in the next second, tearing his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, fabric ripping in the process, as I bared his sculpted chest to me, all rippling muscle and carved abs.

I raked my nails down them, making him hiss and writhe against the wall.

The animal liked that.

I grasped him by his belt and jerked him to me, then slammed him back against the stall, over and over, screaming, then snarling as I scraped my teeth over his throat, then scratched and licked, moving down, down, down, marking him all over and reveling in his taste and his pain.

More. More. More.

He dug his fingers into my scalp, the biting pain making me go feral all over him until I was biting and scratching deep enough to draw blood.

"Fuck," he groaned as I slicked my tongue over the droplets starting to trickle down his chest.

The taste exploded on my tongue, making me drip into my panties, bliss fueling the desperate need all the more until I was whimpering at the aching intensity.

I ripped open his jeans and shoved my hand inside, grasping his shaft that was hard as fucking steel and basically pulsing in my hand. I roughly pulled his cock out and he grunted as I jerked him harshly. When I clawed at his crown, he snarled, the ferocious sound rolling through me.

And then he was on me, slamming me back against the wall.

He jerked down my pants and panties in one shot, baring me to him.

His fingers dragged roughly through my folds.

"Fucking drenched," he growled, a second before he jerked down my sports bra and exposed my heaving breasts. He dove in, sucking and biting them in a frenzy, then ground against me, his cock sliding through my folds, sending jolts of intense pleasure through me as his crown bumped against my clit over and over.

I bucked back against him, needing more.

"Beg me to tear into this dripping cunt," he growled against my breasts, fisting them and kneading roughly enough to bruise them, spreading the blood all over, playing with it, and ramping up my bloodlust and depraved desire to a whole other level.

"I don't beg," I ground out, before breaking his grip brutally, then lunging at him.

He caught me and dug his fingers into my thighs as I rose up on him, then slammed down onto his dick.

He roared and threw his head back as I drove him balls deep in one shot.

I shrieked as he tore me open in the most glorious way, all long and so thick. I chased the burn, clawing at his shoulders, neck, and hair as I rode his dick in a frenzy.

"Tight fucking cunt," he grunted, grasping my ass and grinding my pussy against his balls with every motion, torturing my clit in the process and sending sparks of intensity through me. "That's right… ungh. Fuck yourself on my cock, beautiful."

His bloodied chest slicked against mine, mixing and spreading, and I couldn't take my eyes off the fucked-up sight.

I was panting and crying out, fucking him like a demented thing, slamming and grinding, as he growled and hissed.

"Shit… ahh…. I'm coming," I screamed. "More. Fucking more."

Just as I crashed over the edge, he took back control and jackhammered into me, taking my orgasm higher and higher.

I felt his fingers teasing my clit, twisting and pulling, then scraping his nails over it, and it had another orgasm slamming into me, before I'd even recovered from the first.

"Ahh! Fuck… oh my God!"

He didn't stop, his cock brutalizing my insides over and over, on and on like a fucking machine.

I came again, shuddering in his arms.

Sweat was slicking my skin, my voice was turning hoarse as he forced scream after scream from my throat.

"I… I can't… shit."

Two slick fingers circled my ass.

And then they were plunging inside.

He wasn't gentle about it, forcing them in deep, making me burn and squirm as he filled me, making me take it.

God, yes!

He twisted them over and over, stretching me and forcing me to feel every torturous grind against the sensitive nerve-endings.

"Yeah, there's my savage thing, fucking back on my fingers in her tight little ass. Swallow them like my filthy little whore. Mmm… fuck."

His dirty words and realizing I'd been ramming back on him demanding more had another surge of pleasure ripping me apart at the seams.

I could barely breathe as it took my body hostage, threatening an implosion that I couldn't come back from.

I slumped against him and he took my weight, but then stepped up his torment as he finger-fucked my ass with the same jackhammering thrusts of his cock, while keeping the mind-numbing pleasure of the grinding against my clit.

My body convulsed as I came again.

"Fucking right," he snarled, a moment before I felt his hot cum spill inside me.

"Jesus Christ," he gritted out as he pulled out.

And then he was taking me down to the floor, wrenching my legs over his shoulders, then diving into my pussy and thrusting his cum back inside with his tongue.

White-hot pleasure and pain shattered all over me as he scraped his blunt nails down over my breasts and stomach.

Sparks filled my vision.

Another wave crashed into me.

And then blackness engulfed me.