Page 84

I look up to see Jonas standing at the threshold of my penthouse bedroom door. He's dressed to the nines in a classic tailor-made suit. The color is a type of blue that goes well with the lilac color of his button-up. I smirk at him while doing my regular knot on my tie. "You ever been to Eden?"
He shakes his head. "Nah, I barely have time to love on Raven properly between practice and games. When I'm home, all I want to do is spend time with her and Damon, so unless it's dinner or bookshops, or walking Kronos around the neighborhood, I really just focus on her and her uh...needs."
I blink at him. "Can I ask a question?"
"Sure?" he says with a shrug and lop-sided smile too lazy to be a smirk.
"Do you ever get... jealous? You know..." I make a motion with my hand.
His eyebrows lift, and then he smiles his killer smile with incisors a little too big. "Yeah. Of course. Especially now that I'm on the road, and she doesn't always get to come with me since she's in the studio recording a lot these days. But it's mostly because I miss her. A lot. She's a piece of me. But I also know she's happy and being taken care of, and I know when I come back, we'll make up for lost time." He wiggles his brows, and I let out a huff of a laugh. "She makes sure I know I'm loved when we aren't together. Damon, too. Sometimes they fly out to surprise me, and we video callevery nightwhen I’m away. I got lucky. My soul mates love me and each other. They take care of me, too."
"And Mav?"
"He's an asshole. At first, I was jealous of him. Mostly because I didn't trust him for a long time, being a former FBI and all that. But he proves himself every time and every day. So, no. She loves us equally and differently, just like we love her differently. It helps that we each bring a different skill set to the table. If anything, you'd have to ask Mav if he ever gets jealous and how he deals with it. He's kind of... beastly and territorial sometimes. Then again, Raven loves it."
I nod, taking it all in. The kid's alright. Jonas weirdly has that age-old wisdom he probably shouldn't have at only twenty-three. But I do know he's adopted. I'm guessing somewhere in there, is a kid that really wanted loveand family and now that he's found it, he'll do anything in his power not to let it go.
"Did you ever have to convince her that... she isn't...” I search around the room while I search for the right word, but there isn’t a better one “broken?"
Hazel eyes consider me curiously, but they soften. "I feel like I had to convinceotherpeople around her that she isn't. She tried to push me away way back when... well, when it was really dangerous for her, but I put a stop to that. She stopped trying to fight us," he sighs and then, "it gets hazy for her sometimes. Has issues with trying to figure out if the nightmares she wakes up from are just that, delusions, hallucinations, or real. But we have it down to a T now. We know how to bring her back to us." Before I can ask how, he grins again and says, "It's usually Damon's dick."
I let out a laugh, "what the fuck?"
"Have you ever heard of somnophilia?"
I have a feeling I'm about to learn.
Eden is a gaudy, loud, um,experience.
It feels like stepping into the past. The walls are sage, there’s gold trim where the walls connect to the ceiling. An appropriately sized fountain with a statue of Aphrodite is off to the corner of the large gambling room that’s filled with slot machines, blackjack, poker and roulette tables. Some couples are going upstairs to the second floor that I’ve learned is a type of strip club. The third floor has VIP rooms for God only knows what, and the rooftop is also a VIP club.
“It’s like stepping into mini-Vegas,” Jonas murmurs, and I catch the way he takes it all in like Raven is - with eyes open wide and slightly wincing at all the noise. It’s jovial. It’s fun.
It ain’t for me.
Jonas tucks Raven protectively into his side while looking over all the… fun happening. He asks about the rings, and Sabrina answers for us to follow her into an old-timey elevator. She holds her breath before stepping in. I stay beside her, wanting so badly to touch her, to put my arm around her shoulders and tuck her into my side. By the time I get the balls to do it, the iron doors are already opening, and we're stepping out to a land of chaos.
There's a fight already going on, where spotlights are highlighting in the dark what could be considered a fucking dungeon. If I thought they were overdressed in gowns and a suit, I was fucking wrong. Fight Night is exactly that. From what I can see, it's nothing but the elite, and celebrities, and their friends and family members cheering for more blood. Waitresses in scantily clad red and black lingerie are passing out drinks, the garters around their thighs are full of bills tucked into them as tips. The energy is powerful, there’s tension everywhere, and even though it’s all crimson and blood, it smells like fucking money.
Whoever is winning has the crowd going fucking wild as a bell rings, just as the guy gets knocked out with a kick to the face. He makes a wet thud when he hits the ground, and it all goes silent for just a split second before the roar of the crowd is almost overbearing. I glance at Sabrina, her gaze finding mine. I know she sees my worry for her, but she taps her ear once, and I know my baby put her ear buds in.
Whatever it takes, I'll make sure she's at least eighty percent comfortable in her surroundings, even if that includes putting them in her purse every time she goes out.
Raven lifts her hands to us and signs for our seats. Well,theirseats. I'm just a sconce on the wall here. Sabrina leads them to the front as a medic comes out to take the guy that was knocked out, and staff come through to clean up the blood and disinfect before the next fight.
Maksim's fight.
Except once the staff gets out, more people go around the ring, pulling off the ropes and poles. Then, a black cage comes down, and they make their way around it again, making sure the fence is locked tight. There are excited murmurs and gasps going about. I internally shake my head.
The lights dim andFeel Somethingby I Prevail blasts from the speakers. A spotlight shines on a fighter making his way down the aisle from one set of double doors. The idiot willing to fight Maksim gets into the cage, throwing off his robe. The name SALVATORE is on the back in red, white, and green letters. Tattoos cover him from neck to knuckles, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he looked like Maksim's cousin–tall, built almost the same, with tan skin, dark eyes, and dark hair. The fact he seems ready to kill as he walks around, wrapping his wrists, eyeing the crowd, makes him look a little more lethal.
I let my mind sift through the small file of fighters I know in the city and remember why Salvatore, first name Dario, is so well known. He went professional for only three weeks until he accidentally killed his opponent while he was high on blow. He lost all sponsorships immediately and was dropped. But boxing wasn't his thing. MMA was.
Now the cage makes sense.
It’s gonna be a dirty fucking fight.
The song switches toGo To Warby Nothing More, and the spotlight shines on Maksim. The shadows around him seem to cling to him. With every step he takes, they seem to highlight his statuesque physique, along with every ridge and tattoo on his torso. Something fills the air as he gets closer, an ominous feeling, like Death is on the prowl. I see when Salvatore tenses, even from where I stand. Salvatore shakes his head as though shaking away the thoughts and the anticipation or slight panic running through him.