Page 14

Pain or Pleasure

I quickly look away, letting my eyes run over the people on the top layer.

Luckily, I recognise no one else. Looking back to where he was standing, I notice he has disappeared.

A tension I didn’t realise I was carrying disappears with him, but something in me was happy to see him again.

I never knew why he came to all my fights, I was always too afraid to ask him.

His stare felt like he could see into my soul, when everyone else flinched and whispered words like ‘monster’ when meeting my eyes, he looked proud.

It was the time in the changing room that confused me more than anything.

I had just finished a fight. It had been easy, two low-level scavs trying to prove themselves.

I only got a couple of wounds, one being a split lip.

I was in the middle of changing when the door opened.

I turned to give whoever it was a bollocking when Dray walked in like he owned the joint, his cold eyes already on me.

He drank me in like he was a starving man as he prowled straight up to me.

He asked if I wanted my freedom, I said yes.

He told me to agree to his contract and he would free me.

I was confused as hell, but nodded anyway.

I would do anything to be free from Ivar and this place.

I heard the sound of the gate to the pit opening again, and he must have too.

He put his finger to my cut lip and rubbed it, brushing my blood across my lips like lipstick.

My lips automatically parted, and he smiled, full of promise.

He told me he would be back, and then I never saw him again. I won my freedom the next month.

Most people would be terrified to have his attention.

After all, his reputation alone is enough to make a grown man piss himself.

He is wild like the world we live in, and something in me loved that.

Maybe my own wildness. He didn’t apologise for his brutality and it called to the darkness in me.

The way he watched me, his eyes never leaving me while burning a path across my skin, drew me to him.

I wasn't stupid enough to try and get involved, knowing it would result in my death, but it would have been a hell of a ride .

“No one you need to worry about,” I pass the bottle to them and gesture for them to drink.

“So, who are you here for?” Drax asks. I go to answer when a hand lands on my shoulder, the heat and rough skin burning into mine like a brand.

It echoes Maxen’s move from earlier that triggered me, but I’m able to control myself to a certain extent this time.

I instantly unsheathe my knife and spin, putting it to the person’s dick.

I look up into those cold eyes that I had just been thinking about.

Dray, The Seekers’ leader. My heartbeat speeds up, I can never tell whether he wants to fuck me or fight me.

I don’t think he even knows. He rubs his dick against my blade and I lick my lips without thinking.

“Haven’t seen you in a while?” His voice is deep, deeper than even Thorn’s. It’s smooth like honey and there’s a lilt to it that I could never work out. Like the remnant of an old accent. I focus on his words. He’s right, I haven’t been back to The Ring since I won my last fight.

“Why are you here?” I tilt my head to him, keeping the knife on his balls. Not that he cares. In fact, he seems to like it.

“Got a fighter.”

I feel a little silly with my knife to his balls, but I’ve heard the stories of him ripping people to shreds; so yeah, the knife is staying. He leans down and whispers against my cheek.

“Your knife is turning me on.”

Again, not lying, the evidence is pressed against the sharp tip of my blade. I thought I was crazy, I don’t have a patch on this guy. He stands back up.

“You going to chop my balls off?” he seems more curious than anything.

“I’m thinking about it.” With a sigh, I drop the blade and lean back into the table, keeping my eyes on him. He’s like a wild animal, and you don’t ever turn your back to a wild animal. He licks his finger and leans towards me. What the hell?

He swipes my cheek and it comes away red. Ah, the blood from the guard.

“This yours?” He doesn’t seem overly bothered. I shake my head mutely. He pouts. This grown ass mass who has two swords strapped across his chest actually pouts at me. Sands below, I’m terrified and turned on all at the same time.

“Shame.”

“Who is this?” Maxen asks from next to me.

I manage to hold the narrowing of my eyes in slightly.

What the hell did I say to him about not talking?

Dray’s eyes flick to him, a different kind of predatory gleam in them.

He’s looking for a fight tonight, the menace rolling off him in waves.

His muscles are tight and strained. Did I mention he’s shirtless?

Why does he have to be so hot? He has those delicious V lines that make me want to drool - or stab him - I haven’t decided.

He strokes the blades strapped across his chest like you would stroke a cock.

Okay, why am I turned on by this? I wasn’t always this fucked up, I promise.

Or was I? Either way, my panties are toast. They don’t notice my internal debate, but carry on.

“Who are you, high school musical?”

My mouth drops open. Did he just call Maxen high school musical? I don’t even know how to respond. Clearly, Maxen has the same issue.

“Who’s your fighter?” Safe conversation changer. He sighs, and stops stroking his blades.

“Some lowey. I need him to die.” He leans over me, grabs the bottle from the table, and takes a swig. I watch as he swallows. Jesus, even that is making me all hot and bothered. It has definitely been too long.

“You look like you’re ready for a fight,” my voice is low, the one I use when threatening someone. Or fucking. He looks me up and down and licks his plump lips.

“You offering?” The lust in his voice not covered at all. I’ll admit I’m curious about who would win, but not that damn curious, and I’m not even going to think about the fucking part. I feel like that would be a fight all in itself, but my nipples have other ideas and pebble beneath my shirt.

“I’m retired,” I keep eye contact, not showing any weakness. It’s a game I learned early on. One of his lackeys comes up to him. I know it’s one of his because of the similar cut down his face. It’s said it’s a ritual for when you pass into the higher ranking of his clan.

“Two fighters up for you,” his voice is even and he flicks his eyes at me before flicking them down.

A submissive move. My lips twitch. Dray unstraps his blades and hands them over to me.

His lackey looks shocked. I bet he’s not the only one.

To offer someone your weapons is the highest honour. Only lovers or clan brothers do it.

“Hold these.” Not waiting for a reply, the bastard struts to the pit edge and expertly jumps over the short wall.

My eyes are locked on him, unwilling to look away.

I’ve only ever seen him fight once; it was magnificent.

He was sleek, fast, and brutal. I’ll admit to watching some of his moves and trying to replicate them for myself.

He doesn’t bother with any show boasting or playing the crowd. He stands there on the balls of his feet, hands loose at his sides, with a crazy smile twisting his lips. If I had walked into the ring to that, I would run the other way.

Two big men step through the gate, less gracefully than Dray did, and stand next to each other. One has his hands balled into fists at his side, the other has a knife in his hand. The bell rings and I find myself unable to look away from the brutality that is Dray.

He plays with them, circling, and sneaking in for the odd punch.

Dray darts out of reach every time and laughs as they try and corner him.

The one with a knife manages to get a cut on Dray’s arm and it’s like something breaks free in him.

His smile is more a flashing of teeth and I can barely breathe as he sprints at the two men.

Grabbing the knife from one man, Dray stabs him in the eye.

He falls to the floor, covering it, and screaming.

Dray turns to the other, who is standing there, looking horrified.

The man tries to run, but Dray isn’t far behind.

He grabs the back of his shirt and flings him like a rag doll across the arena.

He’s on him in a second, pummelling him with both fists.

Even from here, I can hear the bones crack.

Blood splatters everywhere and coats him like some kind of demon.

Finally, he stands, his chest heaving and his fists clenched at his side.

He rocks his head back and howls. It’s returned by his brethren in the crowd, who start stomping.

The man on the floor lays dead at his feet.

Dray turns back to the other man and glides towards him.

The guy tries to scramble backwards, but it’s too late. He has his prey in sight.

He yanks the knife out of the other man’s eye, taking it with him, hanging onto it like a trophy.

“Stand,” he says loud enough for everyone to hear.

The crowd stops stomping and silence reigns.

No cheers or claps for this fight. The man somehow obeys, but I can see his body shaking like a leaf from here.

I also see it when he pisses himself. Dray stabs the blade into the man’s stomach.

Disembowelling him, he lets him feel the pain for a while as he plays with him.

Stepping back, he eyes his handiwork before sliding forward and slitting the man’s throat.

Dray turns his back on the man and drops the knife on the ground.