by Austin Bates
When his brain finally came back online, he was draped across Eli's chest, sweat drying on their skin. "Wow," he said, kissing the patch of dark skin near his lips.
Eli laughed, his body shivering against Van's cheek. "Yeah," he said, his voice strained.
The shivers didn't stop and Van raised his head to find Eli wiping tears from his cheeks. Van scooted up to kiss the salty tracks and hold him tight. He pulled the blankets up and let Eli hide his face in his favorite spot against Van's neck.
"Sorry," Eli said a while later.
"Nothing to be sorry for," Van said, yawning. "Round two after a nap?"
Swallowing hard, Eli nodded. "Have to get more condoms."
Van waved his hand around, trying to reach the light without moving. "Get room service to bring some up."
Eli pulled back and stared at him. "You think they'll do that?"
"It's Vegas," Van said with a smile, turning off the light and plunging the room into darkness.
Chapter Ten
"If you don't go, Kim is going to kill me," Van said, making no move to unwrap his hands from Eli's waist.
"I could take her," Eli said, leaning in for another kiss. "She's tiny." He felt like he'd been through the wringer in the best way, his body sore in places he'd forgotten he had.
Van laughed. "She could kill you and twist it around so much that people thanked her for doing them a favor. My sister's the same way. Women like that are going to take over the world."
Grumbling, Eli tore himself away. "You're probably right. Besides, the reporters will be a nightmare if I miss my press conference. The last time I skipped one, some guy actually climbed into the ring to stick a microphone in my face."
"You better get going then," Van said, leaning back against the door. He looked good enough to eat in an unbuttoned shirt and workout shorts. All Natalie's hard work was paying off big time.
"Promise me you won't move a muscle." Eli couldn't resist going back in for one more kiss.
Pushing him away with a hand on his chest, Van shook his head. "You can't seriously expect me to skip the fight." He glanced at the clock and smirked. "You're going to be late."
Eli tore his eyes away from the bite mark on Van's chest and swore. "I'm going," he said, taking the stairs two at a time. "You coming to the meet and greet?"
"Couldn't pay me enough to stay away," Van called after him.
The elevator doors reflected Eli's goofy grin back at him, and he did his best to tone it down before he hit the main floor. He'd given up keeping it off his face entirely when he'd realized that Van hadn't been back to his own house in four days.
Van had come out of the bathroom saying that he needed to bring some clothes over and get his spare uniform cleaned before he went back to work in a week. Eli, drinking his morning shake, had almost choked.
"How can you stand those things," Van had asked, his face scrunching in disgust.
"Practice," Eli had replied, feeling his lips stretch wide. He hadn't stopped smiling since.
Stepping into the press room was like a pulling on an old workout shirt that hadn't been washed in way too long. Eli could feel himself settling in his skin at the smell of too many people crammed into the space. The familiarity was strangely comforting, even as he wanted nothing more than to be back upstairs.
"Eli."
"Kevin, man, what are you doing here?" Feeling his face stretch into another broad grin, Eli bounded up onto the stage and pulled the big Thai fighter into a hug. "I thought Ari was due any day now?"
The usual serene smile on the other man's cheerful face was tinged with excitement. "Not quite. He's assured me that he will wait until after the Championship match. We have tickets," he said in his soft voice. Kevin Thum was absolutely the calmest person that Eli had ever met. It made him a deadly fighter in the ring, and some of their best matches had been together. "The organization has decided that a joint press conference will raise the hype."
Eli grimaced. Some of the guys really went in for the joint conference thing, playing up the drama and shouting slurs at each other across the room as their PR people held them back. He and Kevin hated it, as much as Kevin hated anything.
"I can't wait to see Ari. He must be half the size of a house now," he said, swallowing the complaint that rested on the tip of his tongue. Kevin was a great guy, but he tended to handle complaints by dispensing Buddhist wisdom, and Eli didn't feel up to being one with the universe today.
"Don't let him hear you say that. He says his hormones are making him crazy," Kevin said, his eyes twinkling. "This morning, I caught him hugging the towel in our hotel room and crying." He chuckled when Eli's eyebrows shot up. "The staff had folded it into a pig," he said with a shrug. "It was too adorable, apparently."
Shaking his head, Eli clapped him on the back. "Sounds rough," he said, the envy a barely-there burn in the back of his throat. He thought of Van getting showered back in the room, and felt it fade even further.
With a shrug, Kevin gestured around them. "Much like this, we endure because the end is worth the journey."
Scanning the reporters, Eli pasted on a professional smile. He hadn't exactly forgotten they were there, with the constant background buzz of conversations and paper, but it had slipped to the back of his mind. "We should take our places,” he said as he watched Kim and Kevin's PR agent, Michael, headed toward them.
"Yes," Kevin said, bowing. "I will see you in the ring, my friend."
"May the best man win," Eli said, bowing stiffly in return.
Kim didn't even pause as she hooked her arm in his, pulling him along with her until they were as far from the microphones and cameras as they could get without leaving the room. "I need you to tell me that this is going to be okay," she said, her voice tight.
Bewildered, he nodded obligingly. "This is going to be okay."
Lips pinched, Kim scrubbed a hand over her carefully styled hair, making pieces stick up every which way. "This is not going to be okay," she snapped. Her nail polish was chipped where she'd been chewing on it; a habit she had mostly broken.
Eli's gut clenched. "What's wrong?"
"The event planner is insisting on a joint conference, and I can't get Talbot on the phone," she said, her voice trembling as she talked faster and faster. "This is a violation of your contract but, if you leave now, it will look like it's still affecting you. I didn't even know he was here until twenty minutes ago, and they have him staying at this hotel. Talbot can't know about this because he was the one that insisted you add the stipulation to your contract."
"Kim." Eli grabbed her by the shoulders, his stomach churning. "I need you to breathe."
"I can't," she hissed. "Richard Blake is here."
Eli froze. "Rick is here?" He hadn't seen Blake since security had dragged him past the shattered remains of Eli's hotel door three years ago.
"Yes," Kim said, wringing her hands. "Talbot is on a flight back from New York, and the only way I can get you out of this press conference is for you to walk out of here right now."
"That's a terrible idea," Eli said, his voice distant. "Rick will just play it up that I'm too afraid to face him."
"I know," Kim moaned. "But the alternative is to do the press conference."
"So I do the press conference," Eli said, pleased that his voice stayed even. "He's not going to pull anything in a room full of witnesses, Kim."
She stared at him, both of them breathing too fast. "Are you sure?"
"No," Eli said automatically, then paused. Van was rubbing off on him. "I can do this," he said, straightening his shoulders. "Just... Get Van down here? If nothing else, it'll help to have a cop as a witness." He smiled, but the irrepressible happiness of minutes ago was gone.
"Ten minutes. I'll get him here in ten minutes," she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. "You can do this."
"I can do this." Turning, Eli marched up to the stage like he was headed to the gallows. Kevin was watching him, his dark eyes sober, and he tried to sm
ile.
There were four podiums, he noticed now, spread along the front wall with space between them. The two on the ends were placed just far enough around the corner to face each other. Eli's name was on one of the middle podiums, and he could see Kevin's on one end. His stomach churned, bile welling up in the back of his throat. Rick was going to be standing right next to him.
"Excuse me." Eli glanced up as Kevin leaned over the podium, snagging his nameplate. "This is not an auspicious location for me." Shuffling over to Eli's spot, Kevin winked. "This is a much better one."
Eli's eyes burned as Kevin completely rearranged the order of the boxers, putting Eli on one end with Kevin beside him.
"Yes, this is much better," Kevin said, resting his folded hands on the podium. "Now I can see everyone."
The reporters watched him in amusement. Thanks to his tendency to quote Buddhist poetry very liberally during interviews, Kevin had gotten a reputation for eccentricity, and he wasn't above using it.
"I see how it is," he said, his voice rough. "Stick the Champ in the corner."
"You'll live," Kevin said sweetly.
"I'll pay you back in the ring." Eli slipped into place behind his microphone just as the door opened. He tensed, sneaking a furtive glance in that direction, but it wasn't Rick.
Toby Arnold was an older boxer; two time Champion himself back in the day. He'd retired from boxing fifteen years ago only to come back to the ring in the last few years as a special engagement. If Toby was Rick's opponent, it meant his original match had been disqualified. Now that he thought about it, Eli could recall something about one of the up-and-comers from back east being injured in a car accident.
The crowd would go nuts for that match; Toby's methodical strength against Rick's showmanship. Toby was no slouch, even after fifteen years, and Eli had even odds on him laying Rick out flat.
He waved at the crowd as he walked over to the stands, taking up the spot opposite Eli. They'd never actually been in the ring together, but Eli had seen him fight dozens of times as a kid and had nothing but respect for him.
The reporters were starting to get restless, the clock on the back wall reading five minutes past the hour when the big doors swung open with a bang. Richard Blake strode in like he owned the place, his arrogance oozing through the crowd ahead of him. Once, Eli would have mistaken it for confidence but, comparing it to Van's easy strength, he almost gagged.
Still wearing his sunglasses, Rick hopped up onto the stage and tapped his microphone. "Let's get this party started. I've got an old man to beat the shit out of."
The press lapped it up, jumping into shouting questions at him. That had been one thing Eli had been grateful for during their brief relationship. Rick loved the attention so much that he'd automatically taken all the heat off of Eli during press encounters.
"Richard, what are your plans for winning this match?" one reporter asked. She was pretty in the way that Rick liked; just good enough to make him look better by comparison.
"I'm just going to do what I always do, sweetheart. I don't have any plans besides taking the other guy out." He smiled at her over the top of his sunglasses. Even at a distance, Eli could see how he dragged his eyes over her badly tailored skirt suit.
Across the way, Toby rolled his eyes as the reporter blushed. "Not gonna make it so easy for you, kid," he said, his mic flaring to life. Eli had to cough to hide a laugh.
"Nobody asked you, old-timer," Rick snapped back. "You forget your walker somewhere?"
Toby smiled, a slow stretch of his lips. "At your mom's house. Tell her I send my love."
The reporters giggled at the childish joke, and Rick flushed red. "Fuck you, you ancient bastard."
"Next question," Michael said, scrolling through his phone from his spot behind Kevin. He almost never looked up from his phone if he wasn't walking somewhere. Eli had found the man rude until he'd realized that Michael worked tirelessly to keep Kevin's family and reputation safe.
"What do you consider the most difficult obstacle to winning your upcoming match?" The question was directed to Kevin by a tiny reporter at the front of the room, her voice heavily accented. He vaguely recognized the foreign logo on her chair as being from Kevin's homeland.
"Well," Rick jumped in, "getting through this press conference is probably going to be the hardest part of my day." He grinned, showing even, white teeth, but no one laughed.
"I think," Kevin said, as if he hadn't spoken, "that if one focuses only on the destination, then one is missing the joy of the path. Eli is an excellent competitor, and I always enjoy testing myself against him."
Eli flinched as Rick glanced his way.
"Boring," he said, leaning forward on the podium. "If you're not in it to win it, then why waste everybody's time, you know?"
"This coming from a high schooler who's never won a Championship in his life," Toby drawled.
"Hey, old man, you want to finish this right here?" Rick was up in a second, stalking a few steps toward Toby with his shoulders bunched. He stopped before security could get to him, just like Eli had known he would. Rick was all about appearances.
"Bring it, kiddo. I got better things to do than babysit."
"Next question," Kim said, her heels snapping on the tile as she stalked into the room. "Keep it civil, gentlemen." She'd fixed her hair, and Eli could see Van sliding into a seat behind her. Some of the tension oozed out of his spine, and he felt a tiny warmth settle in the pit of his stomach.
"Anything for you, gorgeous. You know how much I love it when you use that tone of voice with me," Rick said, subsiding with a leer.
"What is it like coming back into the ring after being retired for so long?" the reporter from ESPN asked Toby.
"Like comin' home," he said, leaning against his podium lazily. "Like gettin' back to a wife you been gone from too long. Like a really good workout and a rollercoaster ride all in one." He smiled contentedly at the reporter, folding his hands over his stomach.
"Sounds like you need to get laid, man," Rick said, smirking.
"Next question," Kim said, her voice clipped.
"How is the advanced pregnancy of your partner affecting your concentration, Mr. Thum?"
Kevin smiled. "Ari has assured me that he and the baby have an agreement; there will be no hospital until Dada has finished his season." The reporters laughed.
"That's so cute." Rick clapped slowly, sneering at Kevin, and Eli's stomach clenched. "It's like you've gone all soft for some fat piece of ass."
The whole room went quiet, even Toby holding his breath. Kevin slowly turned his head, his eyes narrowing.
"Shut up, Rick. We all know you couldn't land an omega if you tried." Every head in the room swung Eli's way in surprise, and Eli felt adrenaline burn through his veins. What the hell did he think he was doing? He knew better than to engage.
"I got you pretty good," Rick retorted, draping himself over the podium to smile at Eli. "Not that you count as an omega, you mutated gorilla." It had been one of Rick's favorite insults, and Eli was grateful that he'd developed an immunity to it over the three months Rick had dragged him through the mud.
"So, if I don't count as an omega, then my point still stands," he said, his hands clenching around the podium. He had to force his fingers loose so that it wouldn't end up in pieces.
Rick fumed for a second, the muscle just to the side of his mouth twitching as he clenched his teeth. "True," he said. "Hey Thum, maybe after I beat the shit out of this old man I'll go check in on your ball and chain, give him a test ride."
When Eli was thirteen, he'd broken a man's nose for dragging his kid around by the hair. The next day, his mom had signed him up for boxing lessons, and he'd never felt that wash of pure, mindless fury again. Until now.
"Over my dead body," he growled into the microphone. A small corner of his mind was amazed at the absolute stillness that had fallen, not a single reporter even twitching.
"That can be arranged, baby," Rick said, grinning.
"You think you've got the balls to meet me in the ring, Champ?" He popped the last letter across the room like a slap to the face. "Last I heard, you were still too chicken to face me."
"I'll kill you before I let you lay one hand on another omega," Eli said, his hands white-knuckled on the podium.
"If you wanted me back so bad, sweetheart, all you had to do was say. I'll give you a nice long ride once I've finished this fight." Straightening up, Rick made a show of adjusting himself.
At the back of the room, Eli could see Van glaring daggers, and he took a deep breath. Rick was in the past. He had other things to look forward to. "In your dreams," he said, forcing a note of amusement into his voice.
"That's what I thought," Rick said. "When I win my way to the finals, you gonna back out of that fight too?"
"Boy," Toby said, leaning forward, "it will be my pleasure to make sure that you don't make it any farther than the ring tonight." He brought his hand down on the podium and it rattled, something cracking.
Rick ignored him, staring across the room at Eli with a predatory grin. "You gonna hide behind Grandpa here, baby? I thought you were gonna take me on to protect all those poor stupid omegas. You remember little Johnny, the neighbor boy? He's eighteen now, and a sweet ass you'll never see. I bet he'll bend right over for me if I tell him that you did it first."
Eli remembered. The boy had been all knees and elbows, following Eli around like a lost puppy when he'd worked out at Rick's million dollar San Diego mansion. He saw red, his clenched fists slamming into the podium. There was a massive crack, and it fell to the floor, the main board snapped clear in two.
"Bring it," he said, stepping over the cheap pieces of wood to a chorus of splintering wood. Kim was there in front of him immediately, holding him back with one delicate hand on his chest. He stopped, but he didn't want to.
"Oh, I'll bring it, baby boy." Rick leered at him, fondling himself. "What room are you staying in?"