The Cage King

by Danielle Monsch

  Her tone picked up at the end, giving the statement a hint of question, and of course her brain would pick up the talk went smoother than it should. “He wants me as one of his men, spoke about it before the fight. He’s not going to run me out until that’s settled.”

  Nalah’s face showed no change, which meant she’d already considered that. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Knew it would happen if I accepted their invitation to come.”

  That caused her head to jerk up, eyes wide with a hint of confusion. “And you came anyway?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her eyes shifted back and forth, like she was reading from an invisible book for answers. “But why?”

  The truth of what she was to him still didn’t register with her. He’d hoped that kiss earlier meant it did, but they weren’t quite there yet. “You were going to be here. No way you were coming without me.”

  She huffed, grabbing up the supplies and moving to put them away. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a few years now.”

  “No, you haven’t.” Before she could interrupt and make a retort, he hurried on. “You’ve been back-up, or you did research. This is different. This is you in the front lines, and not where you should be.”

  There was only one area on Nalah that darkened when she blushed, the tips of her ears, and right now they had the red hue that spoke of her embarrassment. “I’ve still been on my own.”

  “Don’t take it badly. Doesn’t mean you aren’t brave as hell. Always were, even if you gave me and Jac heart attacks sometimes. You never ran when we told you to run.”

  “That’s not fair!” She tossed the basket of supplies on the table and went into her hands-on-hips pose. “I couldn’t live with myself if I ran and you two were hurt. If I could do something, I wanted to be there to do it.”

  “We’d rather of been hurt than see you be a human punching bag – or worse.” Memories crowded his head, him and Jac passing a beer and bitching about yet another group beatdown they’d fought through because of Nalah’s mouthy help. “We probably got into twice as many fights because of you, cause you wouldn’t run and instead defended us. Took on groups no other dumbasses would’ve.”

  “I was so young,” she murmured, gave a small snort of laughter. “I never meant that. Attitude took over when someone insulted my two favorite guys.”

  “Fuck it, don’t worry on it. It’s probably why I’m able to fight so well. Good early training and all.”

  Nalah smiled, the sun and moon and stars in that smile which contained only the good and no bad from their shared memories. He had to protect that smile. He had to get that ring and get her out of here.

  And if once they were out she decided they should separate again? No, fuck that. Wasn’t going to happen. He’d convince her, somehow.

  She went to move away, but as she passed he caught her hand and brought the palm to his mouth, placing a small, biting kiss in the center. “Esh, stop that. Your nose is probably broken.”

  Definitely broken. Pain didn’t matter. He’d been through worse before and would be through worse again. “No worries. It’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll do stuff tomorrow.”

  He growled and pulled her into his lap. “How about we do stuff now. Kiss and make it better.”

  Her hand was gentle as she pushed against his chest in a playful smack. “Oh, is that what I’m doing? Should I go put on a nurse costume?”

  Oh hells yeah, once they got away from all this. But for now… He pointed at his nose. Her squinty-eyed glare was not effective when paired with her lips curling up. Finally, she gave a deep, dramatic sigh, and with that, Nalah leaned forward and with the lightest brush possible, touched her lips to the broken nose.

  That worked, so next one. He pointed to his shoulder. This time was less hesitation and a bit more pressure, but light enough to express his injuries still worried her.

  Changing tactics, he pointed to an area on his chest with no bruises, scrapes, or bloody patches. The squinty-eyed glare was replaced with a half-open mouth, the tongue touching the corner in a gesture that was pure habit and hell on his rising cock.

  Her soft mouth descended on the unbroken skin, and Nalah no longer needed direction. For every bruise she found, her tongue came out to run over the skin, leaving a trail of heat behind. She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

  “Adorable and fuckable,” he murmured, and her ears went red. “What are you going to kiss next?”

  The brush of her palm over his cock. “Does this hurt?”

  “So much.” And that was the absolute truth. He was vibrating, anticipation rushing through him in a great wave, leaving him breathless in its wake.

  She nibbled her lower lip, the movement reddening her mouth and bringing a groan to his lips. “I think you might be taking advantage of my medical care of you.”

  He took her hands and pressed them to his cock through the jeans. Her fingers moulded around him, working him through the fabric, and the sight of those long, dark fingers had sweat beading at his hairline. He needed to see her skin on his. “Never,” he got out, his voice little more than a croak. He cleared his throat. “I just want everything checked.”

  Those gorgeous, wondrous fingers undid the zipper, letting his cock spring free, hard and ready for her. His earlier hopes were answered as she curled those fingers around him and gave a long, lazy pull. “No underwear?”

  “Didn’t want to slow you down.” Her stroke was feather-light, barely-there, yet to him it was a brand.

  She slipped off his lap, her expression sensual and mischievous all at once. Her head dipped, and that pink tongue slipped out, and, oh fuck… She licked him. She licked him like he was an ice cream cone and she’d just discovered the treat. Little licks, but nothing tentative about them. They were sure and often, and the came all around the head, driving him fucking nuts because it was too much and not enough, and she was going to kill him.

  Her mouth surrounded the head, the first pull of suction eliciting a groan. With slow, sure strokes she went deeper, swallowing more of him, pulling him further and further into her throat.

  His hand came to rest on the back of her head, directing her, and he fought with himself not to force her down, and to put all of his cock in that incredible wetness. But he didn’t have to, because she deep-throated him in one smooth movement. And she did it again. And again. And again.

  And between how she worked him with her throat and the long-desired sight of her sucking him off, he came quicker than anyone older than fourteen ever should, his head thrown back and his vision gone white.

  When he came to, her head was in his lap, and she was stroking his cock, petting it like it was a kitten. Or a pussy. Petting a pussy sounded like a good idea. He made to pull her up. “My turn.”

  “No.” She was adamant, pushing him back when he would have risen from the chair. “Nothing else tonight. You heal.”

  “I’d rather bury my face in your pussy and see how many times you come in an hour.”

  Instead of crawling on the bed and opening her legs, she bust out laughing. “You have a broken nose. Do that and you’ll suffocate.”

  “Worthwhile way to go.”

  “You’re cute when you’re trying to be naughty.” She got up and kissed him on the top of his head, and it warmed him in a way not even the feel of her lips on his cock had done, the warmth more valuable than any sexual heat ever could be to him. “I’ll make dinner and we’ll turn in early. Tomorrow will be interesting, and I want us both ready.”

  “Nalah.” She paused from getting out a pan and looked at him, her eyebrows raised in question. “From here on out, if I tell you to run…run.”

  She blinked once, twice, long slow blinks under furrowed brows, and he was grateful she was taking it seriously. In the end, she said, “If I did that, I wouldn’t be me, would I? Besides, where could I go? It’s together or not at all.”

  And even with the fear that churned his gut at th
e thoughts of what could go wrong, that didn’t sound too bad at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

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  Esh was gorgeous in the basic white tailored shirt and black pants combo, and the complete boredom on his face as he talked with the various guests made him better looking, not less. The women certainly thought so. Or maybe they just took it as a challenge. Either way, Esh was surrounded.

  Not that Nalah didn’t have her own gaggle going on here. Tiffany grabbed her and dragged her from group to group without letting her do more than sip from her drink between sessions. If Nalah could have gotten away with it, she’d give them all an Esh-level scowl and huff off. All the women talked about were clothes and make-up and hair. Gods knew at this point she’d take Laire over any of them. Sure, Laire usually talked about clothes and make-up and hair as well, but at least she threw in the occasional story about blowing something up.

  Fifteen minutes later, Esh was still surrounded but she saw a chance for escape and took it. Free of the women, she breathed deep and gave another look around. The Pale Lady wasn’t here, but Nalah would place money every other guest was.

  Tiffany was wearing the ring, and every sighting of it poked at Nalah, mocked her because she had no idea what to do, other than smack Fallon the next time they were together for not sending a better thief. There had to be a back-up plan. Esh’s disdain and her own frustrated grumbling aside, the Guild always had a contingency strategy in place. All she could do was keep her eyes open and be ready for when it appeared.

  Well, that, and hope it was sooner rather than later. Not only were they now dealing with Esh being in Beylor’s crosshair and a psychotic guard obsessed with both of them, but the dark magic around here was battering the hell out of her magical shields. She hadn’t felt this exposed since those first days of training, but now was worse. Now, she knew what it looked like when someone’s mind was torn apart because their shields fell. That her shields were crumbling and she couldn’t quite keep them shored up was a terror she had to keep to herself, because Esh would make them leave.

  It wasn’t because of the ring that she was determined to stay, either. She wasn’t so naïve that Esh could hold the truth from her. Once Beylor made that offer, Esh was either leaving here as one of Beylor’s men, or he wasn’t leaving, unless the Guild stepped in. If he tried to get her away now, Beylor would take that as open season.

  She wasn’t going to risk him like that. She’d deal with the shields, keep them up somehow, but she wasn’t going to give him yet another reason to make himself a target.

  A new woman approached her, a clone of Tiffany except her hair was dark and wavy and her eyes such an electric green they had to be fake. Unlike Tiffany, there was nothing of genuine feeling in her smile, and when she spoke, her voice was malicious regard. “You’re Nalah? I had to come over and meet you. I never thought the Cage King would get a woman. I know women who’ve been trying for years and there’s never been the suggestion of anything outside of him bedding them for a night.”

  Really, that was appropriate? But she pushed down the urge to take out her earrings and gave the most obvious fake smile in return. “Yes, I’m Nalah, and yes, I came with Esh. Who are you? I don’t remember Tiffany introducing you.”

  The woman didn’t bother to answer and gave a negligent wave that highlighted her manicure. “How did you get him?”

  This woman was pushing every one of her buttons with the attitude. “I wish the story was exciting, but it’s pretty boring. We knew each other as kids, and we reconnected as adults.”

  The woman leaned closer, eyes sharp and looking for any weakness. “And you weren’t scared off by his violent reputation?”

  “He fights in the cage. So do many others. Doesn’t make him a thug.”

  Stroking the rim of her champagne glass with one red-tipped finger, the woman smiled with malicious delight. “You can’t tell me you don’t know the rumors involving him and Vitto. Why, if you don’t…” she gave an exaggerated shudder. “You might feel differently about him once you hear the truth.”

  All the blood fled from Nalah’s limbs, leaving them icy cold in the wake of hearing her brother’s killer’s name. She’d blocked that name for five years, never let it be heard even in the deepest recesses of her mind.

  But, what were the rumors she was speaking about? Esh never fought for Vitto, not before her brother died, and there was no possible way he fought for that man after what happened with them. This woman was talking crap, and Nalah was done. “I’m not interested in rumors. Excuse me.”

  The woman grabbed her arm and forced her to stay, and as Nalah’s hand balled into a fist, from the corner of her eye she noticed Esh turn towards her. The woman continued. “He’s a murderer. They say he single-handedly destroyed Vitto’s organization. They say he killed Vitto himself.”

  Nalah was rooted to the ground, buzzing in her ears as the woman’s words ricocheted in her head. That couldn’t be true. Esh would have told her if he did something like that.

  A large, calloused hand wrapped itself around hers, and the back of her mind registered Esh coming beside her, glaring at the woman and pulling her away, leading her out of the party and towards their rooms.

  The buzzing in her head quieted until other sounds could penetrate. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the radio she had left on from earlier, a jazz song playing, low and mournful. “We keep leaving his parties. Beylor’s going to get a complex.”

  He retreated to the wall, leaning against it and staying silent. He looked like a mistreated junkyard dog, watching a new arrival and just waiting for the blows to start.

  The tension stretched between them, the weight of that last week – the week that started with her brother falling to his knees in front of her and ended with his body being lowered to the ground – crushing them underneath. “Is it true?”

  “It’s true I killed Vitto. That his organization fell afterwards wasn’t on me.” Esh’s voice was clear and steady and neutral. It was a statement of fact, concise, the way he approached everything.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The question hung, suspended in the air. He lifted his chin, like fighters did when they were daring their opponent to take a hit. “It wasn’t meant for you to know. I didn’t kill him for you. Unless it’s convenient for you to attack me with, you seem to forget Jac was my best friend. Vitto was an evil bastard who killed my best friend, and by doing that, destroyed my life.” In a sharp motion he brought his hand to his hair, clenching the strands between his fingers before smoothing the hair back. “Why would you think I wouldn’t kill him after that?”

  “Because you don’t get involved. Because doing that marked you.”

  She didn’t mean the words as an attack, but the way his body tensed told her he took them like that. “Well, maybe you weren’t the only one who didn’t care what happened afterwards, as long as the pain ended.”

  No. Gods no, she never thought Esh…she never wanted him to be in that dark place, with nowhere to turn and no one to believe in him.

  And she had put him there. She didn’t mean to do it. She was thoughtless, mired in her own pain, but even in her darkest times she never wanted Esh to hurt.

  His gaze was sharp, defiant. “Got anything to say about that? Like, it was what I deserved? Too bad it didn’t work out that way?”

  Standing like that, for one moment he was the little boy she’d known, standing rebellious and daring everyone to judge him, daring her to put him down once again for his choices, but underneath the attitude was fear. Fear he would be rejected. Fear he’d end up alone again.

  The thought of him going off alone, it struck her hard on her breastbone, crushing her chest and making it impossible to breathe. Any mistakes he made were the same kind she had – thoughtless, maybe prideful, but never malicious.

  No, never malicious. She never told him she knew that, when they were starving in the streets, he would give her his portion of food, telling her he’d eaten ear
lier. Or he made sure she was blanketed even if he faced the cold nights in nothing more than a thin T-shirt. She’d watched him work long into the night with Jac giving Jac the only help her prideful brother would ever accept, help on making himself a better fighter, even nights that Esh had watch and wouldn’t get any sleep afterward.

  A street kid who managed to hold onto that goodness would never let his best friend go into a fight that would kill him, no matter what consequences faced them. She’d been so wrong to put so much blame on him.

  All because she didn’t want to rail against Jac. Her brother had been so reckless, so careless, so weak. Weak that he’d get himself into these situations without care of the cost the rest of them were always paying.

  No, her brother wasn’t malicious either, but he was weak, and in those last days, she had begun…

  She’d almost started…

  Gods help her, those last days, she’d hated Jac.

  “Nalah.” Esh’s voice was concerned, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks, and only with that did the wetness on her cheeks register in her memory-dimmed mind.

  Five years they’d been separated, but as she looked to see his gaze on her, she saw what she always had – love, concern, happiness that she was near him. He was so easy to read, at least to her. Five years and nothing had changed. Not for him.

  Not for her.

  The bands she’d unknowingly placed around her heart snapped free, and with their destruction all the love and affection she’d been holding back burst forth, flooding her with warmth and contentment and joy because she was back where she belonged, with the boy who protected her and the man who challenged her, and both of them always, always loving her.

  She lifted her head and placed her mouth on his, and in that kiss she let everything she felt run free. As she licked at his lips and was allowed access to go deeper, she poured everything running rampant inside her into that kiss. Adoration, joy, hopefulness, and above all the love and happiness she’d denied herself so long, in a misguided attempt to punish herself.