Page 55
Story: Rebel Revenge
She glanced between me and Kian, both of us towering over her. “Oh, I think I’m about as safe as it gets right here. Kian brought me to watch him fight.”
Kian stretched his arms over his head and twisted to crack his neck. “Actually, I brought you to see if you wanted to fight.”
Her eyes went big. “What?”
The growl from my chest was completely feral. “Over my dead body.”
Rebel took a step toward me. “I’m kinda with Fang on this one. I can’t fight at something like this. Have you seen me? I’ll die.”
I practically crowed with victory
Kian folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t mean fight tonight. But you just told me you’re scrappy. And that you’ve got some wrongs to right. Maybe this is where you get your confidence back.”
“No,” I spit out.
Rebel squinted up at me. “Did you just speak for me?”
I bit my lip, knowing I had and that she was rightfully putting me in my place. But fuck. I could not stand here and watch her fight. I’d seen the women who came to these things. They weren’t just scrappy. They were brutal and not above cheating. Not that there were really any rules to these matches, other than respecting when the other person conceded.
I never wanted to cut her wings.
But I didn’t know how to support her getting hurt either.
Pix was tiny, and everything in my body screamed protect her.
It had since the very moment I’d laid eyes on her.
She turned to Kian. “I’m not fighting. I’m not trained.”
“Then let me train you.”
“I’ll train you,” I said quickly. I knew exactly how physical fighters got with their trainers, and the thought of this guy all over Rebel had my fingers unconsciously clenching into fists.
She shook her head. “It’s a yes to the training, but you can’t both do it.”
Kian glanced at me and then jerked his head toward the ring. “Up for it? The better fighter trains her.”
Rebel’s eyes went wide, and she put her hands up in a stop motion. “Whoa. No. That’s not what I meant.”
Kian’s eye held a challenging gleam.
Like spoke to like. He was as keen for a fight as I was. I needed the pain. Needed to hurt for what I’d done. Even if it meant Kian winning and being the one to train her. I stuck my hand out. “Deal.”
He grinned at me. “I like you more already. May the best man win.”
“Wait, wait!” Rebel jumped in between us. “You can’t fight each other. Fight someone else, whatever, but I don’t know who to cheer for if you’re both in the ring. What if you get hurt?”
“I won’t,” we both said in unison.
Even I almost smiled at that one. Because he would.
I would too, but I would welcome it. The sting of a punch in the face was a whole lot better than the stabbing reminder that she’d been hurt because of me.
Kian waved to the guy who organized the fights. “Joe. Me and Leather Jacket here. Yeah?”
Joe’s gaze slid to me. “You up for it, Fang?”
I nodded.
Kian stretched his arms over his head and twisted to crack his neck. “Actually, I brought you to see if you wanted to fight.”
Her eyes went big. “What?”
The growl from my chest was completely feral. “Over my dead body.”
Rebel took a step toward me. “I’m kinda with Fang on this one. I can’t fight at something like this. Have you seen me? I’ll die.”
I practically crowed with victory
Kian folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t mean fight tonight. But you just told me you’re scrappy. And that you’ve got some wrongs to right. Maybe this is where you get your confidence back.”
“No,” I spit out.
Rebel squinted up at me. “Did you just speak for me?”
I bit my lip, knowing I had and that she was rightfully putting me in my place. But fuck. I could not stand here and watch her fight. I’d seen the women who came to these things. They weren’t just scrappy. They were brutal and not above cheating. Not that there were really any rules to these matches, other than respecting when the other person conceded.
I never wanted to cut her wings.
But I didn’t know how to support her getting hurt either.
Pix was tiny, and everything in my body screamed protect her.
It had since the very moment I’d laid eyes on her.
She turned to Kian. “I’m not fighting. I’m not trained.”
“Then let me train you.”
“I’ll train you,” I said quickly. I knew exactly how physical fighters got with their trainers, and the thought of this guy all over Rebel had my fingers unconsciously clenching into fists.
She shook her head. “It’s a yes to the training, but you can’t both do it.”
Kian glanced at me and then jerked his head toward the ring. “Up for it? The better fighter trains her.”
Rebel’s eyes went wide, and she put her hands up in a stop motion. “Whoa. No. That’s not what I meant.”
Kian’s eye held a challenging gleam.
Like spoke to like. He was as keen for a fight as I was. I needed the pain. Needed to hurt for what I’d done. Even if it meant Kian winning and being the one to train her. I stuck my hand out. “Deal.”
He grinned at me. “I like you more already. May the best man win.”
“Wait, wait!” Rebel jumped in between us. “You can’t fight each other. Fight someone else, whatever, but I don’t know who to cheer for if you’re both in the ring. What if you get hurt?”
“I won’t,” we both said in unison.
Even I almost smiled at that one. Because he would.
I would too, but I would welcome it. The sting of a punch in the face was a whole lot better than the stabbing reminder that she’d been hurt because of me.
Kian waved to the guy who organized the fights. “Joe. Me and Leather Jacket here. Yeah?”
Joe’s gaze slid to me. “You up for it, Fang?”
I nodded.
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