never been allowed so close to the cage before. I always had to wait in Cohen’s private room, watching the fight on the TV. When he was done, that was when I would get undressed and get into position.
The Ruthless Kings circle the cage, looking into the bleachers for Cohen O’Roarke. My skin doesn’t tingle. The hair on the back of my neck doesn’t stand up. Nothing inside me is screaming that Cohen is here.
I’m equally relieved and devastated because it means another night without Aidan.
“It will be okay. Skirt is a good fighter. Sometimes a bit slow, but no one can be perfect.” Tongue sucks his teeth by running his red appendage over them and then pulls out his knife to start flossing them.
I shiver from disgust. How much blood is on that blade that he’s putting into his mouth?
Skirt reaches into his pockets and pulls out a pair of brass knuckles and slides them on his fingers. He grips my chin, and the brass is cold as it presses against my skin. It’s odd. In a few minutes he will be bashing his fists against someone, but as the weapons lay against my flesh, I know he’ll never use his weapons to harm me.
“Give me a good luck kiss, Lips.” His other hand tangles in my hair, and his breath ghosts over my lips, tingling my flesh and tightening my nipples. This isn’t the time or place.
“Anything you want.” I smash my mouth against his, and the crowd roars and the impulse to give them a show has me jumping onto Skirt and wrapping my legs around his waist.
A menacing rumble vibrates the back of his throat, and I can feel it sink into my chest, even over the crowd’s ruckus. “I think ye are an exhibitionist. Ye want to fuck in front of someone, Lips?” He brings his lips to my ear and moans. “Maybe later we can listen to one of the guys fuck again. Do ye want that?”
I nod, completely breathless and slump against the fighting cage. The thought of listening to others have sex relaxes me.
What the hell has gotten into me?
“Good, now I have something to look forward to.” He lays one last kiss on my lips, then my nose, and climbs up the cage, which has to be eight-feet tall, and then descends down the other side.
The crowd stomps their feet, and the dirt on the ground begins the bounce from the bass.
“I could slice everyone’s throat in here.” Tongue scans the area, his eyes hungrily eating up every face in the crowd. “Every single one. I bet they would deserve it being in a place like this.”
“Does that mean we deserve it?” I ask him, and his murderous, cold eyes lock onto mine. His long black hair reminds me of a curtain of evil when only half of his face shows.
“We all deserve it.”
A beefy arm wraps around me, and I turn my head to the left and see Bullseye, and my face turns a pink. I wonder if he knows we listened to him fuck Candy the other day. “Don’t mind Tongue. He’s all fucked up in the head.” Bullseye tightens his arm protectively around me then nods toward Skirt.
Poodle, Skirt’s best friend, I think, watches me too.
Everyone is watching me. It’s unsettling. I throw on Skirt’s cut, needing to feel secure, and bring the leather to my nose and inhale.
The elevator opens again, and the man who runs down the aisle is three-times the size of Skirt.
“Oh, that’s a big motherfucker,” Bullseye says, which doesn’t make me feel better.
The man scales the cage in half the time and jumps into the ring, landing on two feet and tree trunks for legs. Skirt doesn’t look nervous, but one hit from this giant could kill Skirt. The man has scars all over his back, lashes, maybe from a whip, and he as a scar running from the side of his mouth to his eye.
Maximo stands to the side with a microphone in hand. “Everyone welcome, Rohan the Red and Joker,” he announces, and the crowd goes wild.
“Well, that makes sense.”
I hold Bullseye’s hand and hold my breath. Tongue takes a step forward and cocks his head. “Well, hell. I’m the one who put that scar there ten years ago. I’ll be damned, the fucker lived. Cut him with this blade too.” Tongue rips the knife from the sheath strapped to his chest and points it at the giant, taunting him.
“Stop it!