The Cage King

by Danielle Monsch

  “Had someone follow you from the match. How the fuck could you be so close and I never knew it?” His other hand wrapped around her neck in a gentle caress, and using his thumb he forced her chin up so their eyes met. “Why are you defenseless?”

  “I can take care of myself.” The rejoinder was automatic even after the space of years, but the annoyance of that familiar argument was not enough to dull the return of sensations that were raw and deep and sharp.

  Instead of answering, he began to stroke along her neck, his fingers taking in the curve of her cheek, the small cleft in her chin, his eyes drinking in every spot his fingers passed over. His head dipped lower, the temptation of those lips – gods, that talented mouth – coming ever closer.

  Nalah jerked back, the motion so forceful it left her dizzy for a moment. No, no this was not what she wanted, no matter how her traitorous body responded. Five years ago, she left, for reasons that still existed.

  She cleared her throat and turned to go into the kitchen, for space rather than overwhelming thirst. No time to think how to play this…this thing. And now Esh was here, and if there was one thing she could never do with him around, it was think.

  “Why did you come to the match?” He had slipped behind her without her notice, bending over her, his large frame enveloping hers, hot breath in her ear.

  She grabbed the counter in front of her to have something solid beneath her fingers. What made her think she could ever do this? Time hadn’t dulled a damn thing, not that she ever thought it would. “I wasn’t thinking when I came to the match.”

  He closed in, his arms brushing the sides of her breasts, his hands resting next to hers. “Why did you come?”

  She clenched her jaw hard so the groan wouldn’t escape. Five years, and it was as if not an hour had passed. She moved so no part of her body was touching him, though he was still so near. “I work for the Guild now.”

  His body stiffened and his tone lost its seductive undertone. “Fuck you mean, the Guild? How could you be involved with them?”

  Touching him was always a risk, but she pushed past his arm as quick as she dared to get away from the heat, the smell of him. Willpower was overrated. Safer now, leaning against the arm of her couch, Nalah said, “I needed to leave and they offered to get me away.”

  Esh had always been able to read her. He knew when to back away, when to bring her in closer. That ability was intact as, instead of crowding her again, he placed himself across from her, leaning against a wall, a vision of strength. “Tell me everything.”

  There was the old commanding tone, and she was grateful for it because now anger was coming forward, pushing back the sexual awareness of him. “You know everything. You were there. You were there when Jac got in trouble, and you were absolutely there when you left him to his fate.”

  “And he made his own choices,” Esh replied, his own voice calm in contrast to her rising one. “I told him several times to stay away. I told them those matches were shit. He’s the one who went anyway.”

  “One fight could have saved him.”

  “You’re not stupid,” he said, his own anger bleeding through. “It’s never one fight with pieces of shit like that.”

  “We could have figured it out after he was safe!” The urge to bang her head against the counter hit hard. It was always his way. Make the decision and to hell with any further thoughts. He never listened to her. She exhaled, some of the fight going with it. Calmer, lower, she said, “We could have figured it out.”

  “Except I don’t – get – involved!” Every word he spoke was salt rubbed deeper into the wound. “I don’t get mixed up, and I don’t put my neck out. Jac knew that when he made his choice, and he needed to see it through.”

  She saw it all, as clear as that day. Her brother bursting into their little apartment, the nicest one they’d ever lived in. The fear on his face, in his voice. Falling to his knees, begging her to talk to Esh.

  Esh’s face – hard, unyielding. Refusing the fight, no matter that her brother had been his best friend for years, no matter that her relationship with Esh had been venturing from schoolgirl crush to hot-and-heavy. They’d only kissed and petted, but five years later those moments were still the hottest sexual experiences she’d ever had.

  But their relationship hadn’t mattered. Still he refused. Still her brother fought. Still her brother died.

  “Since you didn’t come to the match because you wanted to see me, why did you come?” His face and voice were now as inviting as a brick wall. There would be no more talking about the past, at least not now.

  She was alone in this world, but she had two things she could be proud of and cherish – the work she did and her mother’s ring. The Guild’s inner workings, well, they made the crime lords she grew up around look like cuddly stuffed animals in contrast, but because of them her life and her gift had meaning. And her mother’s ring was every good memory in her life of her beloved mama. Mama left too soon, wasted away from illness, but until the end she read to Nalah before bed every night and never once snapped at her when she asked once again “Mama, why?”

  The past wouldn’t change, and today proved her damned sexual attraction to this man wouldn’t either. Neither mattered though, not compared to the importance of reclaiming the ring. It was what Fallon had been telling her today, and the message at last had made it through. “I was there on Guild business. A situation has developed, and we need your help. I want you to work with me on an assignment.”

  Not Happy was an understatement if his darkening countenance was anything to go by. Esh’s fingers stretched wide before curling in a loose fist and with measured movements he stepped away from the wall, began circling her little apartment. “Five years not a word, but once I’m a useful thug, all is set aside and you’ll bother with me again? Did you bring a leash as well?” He was still walking, still too calm.

  The flinch that struck her body hit hard, as hard as if he’d laid hands on her. That tiny piece of guilt she’d pushed far back in her emotions wiggled free now, reveling in its moment. No matter the justification for leaving or the importance of the mission that had driven her to see him again, it was the truth. Before the break-in at headquarters and her subsequent assignment, she…well, she’d always thought about Esh and kept up with his exploits through the grapevine, things not even the anger could get her to stop. But going to see him, approach him? No. Before the break-in, that part of her life had been dead. “If anyone else could be here, I would never have brought this back in your life.”

  Esh’s voice was mocking. “But of course, out of all the Guild, you are the only one who could come, and the fact that the woman I loved needs my help isn’t a manipulation to get me to agree.”

  Loved broke through her, her body flinching at the past tense. Unbidden, images rushed through her – a first kiss when it had been pouring rain, Esh’s mouth so soft on hers when nothing else of him could ever be described as soft. Looking up from a book only to find his face inches away, and his smile saying he’d been there for some time, only she hadn’t noticed. A ten-year-old boy glaring at a gang of bullies as he stood over a seven-year-old girl, protecting her and making her safe in a way her brother could never quite manage.

  She shoved them away, brought her mind to the present. That was over, and only what happened next mattered. “We both know it is, though given our history, I told them not to count on it being an effective one.” She held up her hand to stop the words he began to voice. “No, let’s not go over it again. Let me tell you the job, and we go from there.”

  He spun on his heel and went to the kitchen, finding her stash of whiskey in an upper cabinet on the first try. Much as she wanted a drink herself, she said nothing as he belted back a shot. Once done, he licked his lips, and she could almost feel those lips on her neck, traveling downward as his teeth came and nipped along the path.

  Nalah turned away before he caught her staring. Not good to give him any ammunition. From behind her, he spoke
. “Okay, clear your conscience.”

  She did her best to keep any emotion out of her voice. “The Guild has discovered Beylor has purchased a very important magical artifact, one the Guild wants to get into our possession. Word is he doesn’t realize what it is or the power it possesses, so the main focus is to get it back before Beylor finds out what it does.”

  “The Underground Tour. You want me to get you in,” Esh said, grim humor in his voice.

  Grateful she didn’t have to explain further, Nalah fell silent to allow Esh to work it out in his own head. In the underworld of cage fighting, the Underground Tour was legend, the match all fighters dreamed of. Only a few ever made it, and Beylor, the operator of the Tour, was by turns revered and feared by most.

  Except Esh didn’t have any interest, though he received an invite for each Tour. I’m not a dog to bark on command. He never trusted it, and as he once told her, he wouldn’t be part of anything where he couldn’t see all the pieces in play. And if anything was shrouded, it was the Tour.

  The fact that his continued refusal made him a legend and had people coming from all over to both fight him and see him was an unexpected side effect.

  After long moments he spoke again. “Why can’t the Guild show up and force the return?”

  She turned to face him. He was still holding the glass, giving it the occasional slow spin so the liquid arced and rolled within the cup. “Too many things are in play. Politics, for one. The Tour draws a lot of important people. Beyond that, Beylor is slippery. The Guild has bits and pieces of information, but they’ve never been able to get enough to pin a location down until after the Tour has moved.”

  “No wizards can magically find him? That much power in one place – don’t know how it could be missed.”

  “Not that simple. The theory is Beylor operates the Tour in what are known as blackout zones. No magic works in or escapes those areas.”

  He cocked his head in question, ready to learn more, like always. While Esh had never read on his own, he’d brought her every book he got his hands on – though how he got them she never asked. And at night, he’d listen for hours as she discussed whatever she’d learned that day. “He protects himself by sticking to areas where magic is useless and he’s surrounded by fighters and warriors. Man’s not stupid.” He drained the glass and set it on the counter before coming to stand in front of her. Anew, desire shaped itself low in her stomach as the scent of sweat and leather and that something that came to be labeled Esh in her mind hit her, but Nalah dug deep and refused to back away. She wouldn’t concede any ground to him. “Why are they sending you, outside of the very important reason they’re hoping you’ll convince me to get you to the Tour? Did you turn into a master thief while you were away? Because if you aren’t, can’t see how you going matters.”

  And here it was, the moment she’d been dreading. Laying herself bare in front of the one man she wanted to be shielded from. “Remember when I was a kid and always talked about feeling things? We thought maybe I had some magic in me but I never passed any tests and we decided that wasn’t the case.”

  “Yeah, except for that old fortune-teller. She always said you were in contact with the spirit world. I don’t know how the hell anyone took her seriously when she smelled like a bar.” And for one moment he smiled, open and free and emotionally intimate, and it was the three of them again, making a scruff of their neck escape and laughing about it once danger had passed, and the jolt that passed through her chest when Esh turned that smiling gaze to her.

  “Well, anyway,” she said, not responding to his smile, breaking the moment, and his face settled back into harsh lines, though he didn’t back away. “I can’t cast magic – I’m not a wizard, that’s true – but I can sense magic, and I can break it. I can unwind it, reverse the spells, make it like they never existed. It’s known as being a Magic Breaker.”

  Esh’s eyebrows rose, though no other signs of hesitant disbelief appeared on his face. Considering she’d never heard of Magic Breakers until the Guild entered her life, she wouldn’t have blamed him if he laughed outright at the thought. “You can’t cast spells?”

  “Nope,” she said, popping the p at the end.

  “But if you come to a house that has a magical lock on the door…”

  “I can open it, twist the handle and go right on in. It’s amazing how many people will lock up their houses with layers of magic but not use a ten-dollar deadbolt.”

  Esh crossed his arms over his chest and breathed deep, as if settling everything he’d learned inside him. “So the Guild thinks Beylor, what, lives in one of these magic-free zones you were talking about and they expect you to walk in and grab this piece of jewelry?”

  He looked skeptical, and she didn’t blame him. “Not quite. I’m not going to be alone. There’s a thief I’ll be meeting there. I need to find the item, and they’re going to steal it.”

  His hands went to his hips and he widened his stance, and damned if she was going to admit the dominating aura did anything to her insides, because like hell she’d ever give him that type of ammunition. “If they got a thief, why do they need you?”

  “Beylor is known for making multiple fakes of his valuables. Multiple fakes in multiple vaults, so I’m needed to lead my contact to the correct item.”

  “And it’s got to be you because you’re a Magic Breaker?”

  “Exactly. A wizard would be useless, but what I’m able to do isn’t the same, so I’ll be able to function.”

  His stance was still aggressive, those large hands resting on trim hips. “That’s all well and good, but you’re not a warrior. Beylor’ll have an army of thugs wandering around.”

  “I’ll deal with it.”

  Wrong thing to say, because he went from calm to pissed, veins in his neck raising beneath the skin. “Like fuck you’ll deal with it! You think I’ll let you just walk into that shit? Beylor has access to the best fighters, and none of them would have a second thought about hurting a woman.”

  Ten minutes after walking in the door, and he thought he had the right to an opinion? Like hell. “What makes you think you have any say in my life? I’ve been doing just fine.”

  “And if I don’t help you?” he challenged.

  “Then there’s plan B,” she responded, flinging her hands up in frustration. “They might have determined this to be the best plan, but I guarantee they’ll have someone else I can travel with. I don’t need your help.”

  She turned, but his fingers wrapped around her upper arm stopped her from leaving. She twisted to face him but didn’t get a chance to speak before he claimed her mouth, his lips on hers and his tongue demanding entrance.

  Familiar yet new. So many times he’d done this, evoked fire in her body, flames that started low in her belly and spread to engulf her whole body. He dominated her, taking possession with his mouth, forcing her to receive pleasure as he deemed to give it.

  Only white existed in her thoughts. She was all feeling, all senses. His touch, the calloused hand rough and tender as it slid along her back. His scent, sweat from the match still on his skin, woodsmoke, and the musky male undertone that was pure Esh.

  Nalah’s hands were weak, trembling, as she pushed at him, breaking free enough to whisper, “We can’t. Esh.”

  He groaned as she said his name and retook her mouth, a languid conquest where he drew out sighs and groans from her against her will.

  It was his hands sliding down to cup her ass that brought back damned reality to the forefront. This time her push against him was harder and caught him off guard, enough that she was able to escape.

  The clench of his jaw and the heavy breathing told of bringing himself under control.

  They studied each other for several moments. He would do this in the cage, this focused deconstruction, those few moments before the match started, and Nalah would swear that these were the moments he was most dangerous. The fights might be more spectacular, but this was where Esh figured out his enemy – ho
w they were weak, how to strike, how to break.

  Yes, anyone with sense would fear him most in these moments.

  And never let it be said Nalah didn’t have sense.

  When his body relaxed, that was when Nalah’s guard went up. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll accept my leash and take you to the Tour.” And just as she was about to breathe out in relief, he added, “With conditions.”

  Of course there were. “What conditions?”

  Esh crossed his arms over his chest in a way that stretched his T-shirt over his chest, every muscle defined under the cotton, and her mouth watered a little. “The only reason a fighter would bring a woman was if she was his, so for the duration of the Tour, you’re mine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I said.”

  He was arrogance personified standing there, and damned if that wasn’t a good look on him, the bastard. “Pretend I’m stupid and spell it out.”

  His eyes burned as they raked over her body, as strong as a physical caress, and the sensations that hadn’t dimmed since their kiss burned brighter. “No fucking,” he said. “I’m not going to fuck you until you beg me. Everything else, that’s allowed.”

  “Everything else?” she asked in spite of a very dry mouth, needing and dreading clarity for that statement.

  “My mouth on yours,” he started, and began to walk toward her, slow and steady, winding and hypnotizing like a snake before it strikes. “My palms trailing over your breasts. Teeth biting into your skin, marking you for everyone to see. My cock rubbing over your ass. Tongue on your clit, and my fingers deep inside you as you come all. Over. Me.”

  He was in front of her now, their gazes locked, both breathing heavy. “That’s what you agree to give me if I do this. From now until you get your item, you stay by my side, and I have the freedom to claim you as mine.”

  Chapter Five

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  “You know who you called.”

  Beeeep