by Kit Rocha
It'd been different, that second time. He'd held back, letting her slide on top of him and set the tempo. But even flat on his back with her riding him to her own orgasm, he managed to seem utterly in control. Indulgent, as if he'd give her anything, but remain effortlessly dominant.
He started to smile, but the expression faded as he studied her face. "Everything okay?"
With a deep breath to steady her--not to mention the comfort of Bren's presence--she crossed the space between them and planted herself firmly in front of Dallas O'Kane. "I want to fight in the cage tonight."
Dallas raised both eyebrows, but Bren was too busy surveying the warehouse to catch the man's quizzical look. "Did something happen?" he asked, stepping closer.
So protective, and she didn't know if it soothed her anger or stoked it higher. This was what she'd never had through all those terrible months of Elvis and Riff and Cain sitting by, doing nothing. Someone who gave enough of a shit to do something. "It's not like that."
"But, all of a sudden, you want to fight?"
She didn't point out that she'd always wanted to fight, because he'd still want to know why tonight was the night she stood up for it. "Someone's going to kick Elvis's ass tonight. I want to do it."
Dallas spoke. "I'm sure Bren'll do it for you, honey. Free of charge."
Ignoring him, Six held Bren's gaze. "I can do this," she told him softly. "It's how you guys clear the air, isn't it? Elvis and I have a hell of a lot of air to clear."
His jaw tightened. "You climb in the cage when you're pissed, and things can go south real quick. I've been there. You make mistakes."
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Dallas waving toward the corner. Summoning Lex to wrangle her back into place, no doubt, so Six grabbed Bren's arms and stepped toe-to-toe with him, digging desperately for the words to convince him. "I'm pissed," she admitted hoarsely. "But this isn't all temper, I swear. They took something from me, and if I don't get it back on my own, it won't matter. It won't be mine."
"They?"
"Trent. All of them. They made me a victim." Lex was already heading their way, and Six's seconds were numbered. "Help me be something else again."
Lex walked up and slipped her arm around Dallas's neck. "What's up?"
Bren spoke, his eyes still locked with Six's. "The lady wants to fight."
"That so?" Lex whispered something too low to hear in Dallas's ear.
Whatever it was, it drew a heavy sigh from Sector Four's king. Six braced herself for disappointment, the only thing that kept her from bristling when Dallas snapped his fingers at Bren. "Has she got a chance in hell?"
"Against the pretty boy? You bet your ass."
"And when that pretty boy lands a hit or two on her? It'll look bad if you climb in after her to dismember him."
But Bren shook his head. "I'm square. Besides--it wouldn't be a fair fight, a good one, if he stood there and let her whale on him."
Six's heart lurched painfully. "You believe I can do it."
"Because you can." He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Watch your ribs while you're swinging, don't telegraph your moves, and get this out of the way. He looks like a hair puller."
Dallas groaned. "Jesus fucking Christ, it's the end of fucking days all over again." He moved Bren aside with a hand on his shoulder and forced Six to face him. It was hard--Dallas O'Kane had what Wilson Trent had only dreamed of, the kind of sheer presence that carried easy power. He took up too much space and radiated the sort of danger that made you want to roll over in pure animal submission, anything to keep him pleased with you.
He didn't look pleased right now. He watched her like she was a splinter shoved under his thumbnail, and he didn't know if he could dig her out. "I knew you were gonna be a pain in my ass," he said finally. "You kick the shit out of that fucker, you hear me? I don't have time for Bren to go swearing blood vengeance on my new sector."
She'd mostly wrapped her head around the notion that Bren would protect her. The idea that he cared enough to go on a rampage after the damage was already done was strange and intimidating, but she didn't hate it. "You heard him. He wants a fair fight."
"So he's telling himself." Dallas shook his head and jabbed a finger at Lex. "You better be right."
For a moment, Six thought the woman might just bite him, but she only smiled slowly. "Does it ever go well when you doubt me? A king should have a little faith in his queen."
Laughing, Dallas sank a hand into Lex's hair and dragged her to him. "This is more than a little faith, love." Then he was kissing her, hot and rough and wild, and for once Six didn't avert her gaze.
Lex lingered before breaking the kiss with a sharp bite at the corner of his mouth. Then she ran over to the cage, using the momentum of her speed to hop up on a crate beside it. "I hope you bloodthirsty bastards brought your betting money tonight. We've got a fight night first--a lady in the cage."
Hoots and cheers greeted her words, along with one punk at the fringes of the room who yelled, "Cat fight!"
"You wish, you stupid fuck." Lex's cool smile shut him up, and a new hush fell over the room.
It wasn't a joke, the kind of show put on for money next door at the Broken Circle. No naked mud-wrestling, but a fucking fight, with blood and blows--and wagers.
Six stripped off her boots and dug into her pocket for her precious wad of cash. Not all of it--she'd found a dozen hiding places to squirrel away her valuables, all of them readily accessible if she ever needed to run. But the largest bills she kept on her, and she pressed them into Bren's hand. "Make me some fucking money, huh?"
"I'll place the bets. You win the fight."
"Done." And because it meant that much, she rolled up on her toes and kissed him once, quick and fleeting, before spinning away. There was too much excitement roiling through her already to add the taste of him to the mix. Besides, Lex was watching, waiting for her to climb into the cage and call Elvis out.
Pulse racing, she hauled open the cage door. The concrete was cool under her bare feet, and the audience seemed oddly removed, their faces bisected and obscured by the crisscrossing metal. She was the object of everyone's attention, as scrutinized as she'd ever been on a stage, but this was different.
This was where she felt strong.
Twisting in a slow circle, she scanned the crowd until she found the familiar blond hair and pretty face. "Elvis," she called out. "You're here to fight. Let's fight."
He held both hands out to his sides. "You've got to be shitting me, Six."
It didn't matter that smiles were still awkward for her. One came easily now, and she knew how she must look, grinning wildly in Lex's leather pants. Dangerous. Untouchable. "Don't worry, it's not to the death or anything. You can tap out when you've had enough."
"No way. You've lost your fucking mind." But he kicked off his shoes and tugged at his shirt in spite of the denial.
The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts as money flashed and bets were laid. Elvis climbed in the cage, and Lex slammed the door shut behind him.
Just like that, the crowd was gone. Everything outside the ring ceased to exist, leaving her and him and the unforgiving cement that one of them would be kissing before too long. "How 'bout a wager, El? Just between you and me."
He eyed her warily. "What kind?"
"If I win, you go a month without saying a single lewd thing to any O'Kane woman. Or leering at them, either."
"Done. We don't even have to fight."
It didn't make her feel better. It made her feel naked, because the emotion lurking behind his eyes wasn't fear or dislike, it was pity. A few years ago, he would have faced her with anticipation and determination and wary respect, because Trent had picked her for a reason. She'd had a reputation.
No one remembered it. They looked at her now and saw a victim, and as long as she had to face that reflected back at her everywhere she turned, it was all she'd ever be. They'd smother what was left of her pride in well-meaning sympathy.
/>
Words wouldn't change it. Action would. So she feinted, just enough of a swing to give him a warning, because she didn't want anyone saying she'd taken a sucker shot. He brought his hands up, ready to block, and she twisted in under his arms and drilled him in the ribs.
"Ow, fuck!" He staggered back with another, harsher curse.
Her body shifted, ready to press the advantage on instinct, but she held back. "Fight me. Don't you fucking dare hold back."
"I don't want to hit you, you crazy bitch!"
"Why not?" She swung again, smacking him in the side with only enough force to irritate, not injure. "You watched other people do it for months."
"You think I liked it?" He deflected her third blow with a sweep of his arm. "You think we didn't sit around and try to think of ways to get you out of there, me and Riff and Cain?"
"Yeah, I'm sure it sucked for you." She rammed her shoulder into his, pushing him against the cage bars. "Did you sit around and think about ways to get all the other girls out, too?"
He finally struck back this time, shoving her toward the center of the ring. "We should have fought him, right? Easy way to get dead."
"Then you made your choice." He blocked her next jab, smacking aside her wrist hard enough to bruise. Bren would be pissed if she ended up with too many, but she didn't dare spare a moment to look for him.
Instead, she aimed the next punch straight at Elvis's perfectly chiseled jaw.
He took the blow and struck back, hitting her hard in the midsection. It knocked the air out of her lungs and sent her stumbling back, but the pain had another meaning this time. It prickled through her, awakening every nerve, and left a wicked clarity in its wake.
Not pleasure, but something better. Purpose.
Maybe she couldn't be like Bren and push toward the pain like a lover, but she knew how to weather it. So Elvis was still pulling back when she swung around and knocked his face in the opposite direction.
A roar rose in the warehouse, loud enough to penetrate the blood rushing through her veins.
No, not just a roar. Female screams of approval cut above the noise, and she saw a swell of movement over her opponent's shoulder. The O'Kane women, standing on the couches and cheering her on like she was their champion.
Like she was one of them.
She was gonna kick Elvis's fucking ass.
Sometimes, the hardest thing to do was nothing.
Bren held his ground during the fight--not because he'd promised Dallas, but because Six deserved it. A turn to test herself, to do battle against the shadows of her past and emerge not only triumphant, but bloody enough to know she'd earned her victory. It hadn't been handed to her. She'd claimed it in a fair contest, which meant no one could take it away. And if they did, she'd just fight for it again.
But oh, it was hard as hell to watch. He felt every blow in his bones, every scrape of concrete and burn of knuckle on hard bone, and only the knowledge that this was what Six wanted kept him from interfering when it looked like the tide was turning in Elvis's favor.
Then she laid him out, riding him down to pin his face to the cement until he tapped out in weak defeat, and Bren still had to do nothing, because the other O'Kane women swept Six away to celebrate.
"Well, I didn't have to have Jas or Flash sit on you," Dallas drawled beside him. "That's something."
Bren's hands ached from clenching them. "I've been teaching her. It's not like I threw her to the wolves."
His leader regarded him seriously for a few seconds before lowering his voice. "That's not what I meant, Bren. Not even close."
"Yeah." Then, because he had to, he confessed. "If he'd fought dirty, even a little..."
"I know." No judgment in those words, and no disapproval. "Hell, I would have helped."
Across the warehouse, Six accepted an open bottle of whiskey from Rachel--and smiled. Bren relaxed his hands and flexed his fingers. "I'm still going to kick his ass one day, but not tonight. Six took care of that."
"She sure did." Dallas slugged Bren on the shoulder. "Don't know how much of that was your training and how much was her, but the girl's got moves."
"Told you. So did Lex."
"So she did. She'll be insufferable tonight."
He seemed so pleased about the prospect that Bren had to laugh. "I better collect Six's cash. The odds were against her, you know. She won big."
Ace was sprawled at a table in the O'Kane section, counting a ridiculous stack of cash. The artist grinned and kicked back a chair in invitation. "Got your girl's money. And mine. I haven't made this much on a fight since Mad put a beatdown on the Armstrong brothers."
Bren sat, but his gaze kept tracking back to Six. She was wedged between Lex and Rachel, her eyes bright as the women toasted her. "She did good."
Ace laughed and nudged most of the cash across the table. "I was gonna point out that she looked good too, but I'm in no mood to get my teeth knocked down my throat. You've got that look, brother."
"Do I?"
"Mmm. Maybe it's because you finally got laid. I was starting to worry about your poor dick, all neglected and unused. You haven't exactly been partying hard since your girl showed up."
As if Ace had any worry left to spare after seeing to his own overtaxed libido. "I didn't before Six got here, either."
"But you burned through the tension." Ace swept his winnings into a haphazard pile. "If you need an outlet, I'm here. I know you two are punching each other in the face and all that, but just in case it's not enough."
Ace worked pain with a whip or a flogger the same way he did with his needles--skillfully. "I don't know, maybe. If Six is into it."
That sent Ace's eyebrows up. "Like, you want her to watch? Or...?"
"Or whatever she wants."
A slow nod, and Ace grinned. "Sure thing, brother. Lady's choice."
They didn't have to take him up on the offer right away. But Six was curious about it, the mingled pleasure and pain, and there was no better way for her to understand than to experience it firsthand.
"Yeah." He folded her money into his pocket, reached for the nearest bottle, and poured Ace a drink. "Lady's choice."
By the time Dallas chased the outsiders back into the night, it was clear to Bren that the O'Kane women had claimed Six as one of their own, ink or no.
They were out on the floor, dancing to the smoky melody pouring from a small set of speakers hung from the cage bars, smooth pre-Flare jazz instead of the usual hardcore bass rhythms. The music was different, and so was the dancing, swaying hips and closed eyes and low laughter.
Six was swaying too, crushed between Noelle and one of the newer girls--Ace's apprentice, Emma. It made a hell of a picture, Noelle sweet and soft and Six with her stark, hard edges and Emma a mixture of pretty and punk, covered in ink.
They looked like they came from different worlds, but they laughed like they were family. And when Six twisted around to meet his eyes, the slow smile that curved her lips was drunk on a feeling he recognized all too well.
Belonging.
He almost sat to wait for her to finish the dance, but he'd been patient enough, so he held out his hand.
Noelle whispered something in Six's ear that brought a flush to her cheeks, but she broke free of the giggling dancers and curled her fingers around his. "Hi."
"Hi." Her knuckles were still red and swollen, and there was a splotchy mark high on her left cheek that would bruise by morning, but otherwise she looked fine. Unscarred. "Congratulations on winning your first fight."
She glowed. "I kinda thought you'd be pissed I didn't flatten him at the beginning. I had to goad him into fighting back."
"Chivalry isn't dead. It's just misplaced."
"Whatever that means." Six shifted closer, until his chin brushed her temple and the tiny strands of hair that had escaped her braid tickled his cheek. "I don't know, maybe it's unfair to be mad at him. If he'd tried to stop Trent, he would've ended up dead."
Alone, probably--but he ha
dn't been alone. All it had taken to keep Trent's power base secure was for Elvis and the others to sit back and do nothing. "If that were true, not a damn thing would ever change. It's something he tells himself to sleep at night, sweetness. That's all."
"I guess." Another step and she was pressed against him, her lips brushing his throat with her next whisper. "Knowing you might get dead hasn't stopped any of you crazy fuckers yet."
The grazing touch sparked heat in his blood, and he pulled her closer with one hand splayed across her lower back. "Welcome to Sector Four."
"Are you my prize for winning?"
Things were heating up on the dance floor. An even sultrier song had rolled over on the radio, and the women had paired off into slow dances. Emma and Noelle were still whispering and laughing, but Lex and Rachel had a whole different vibe going, serious and charged.
Bren spun Six so that her back nestled against his chest. "If you're ready to leave the party."
Tension rolled through her body, but it wasn't the usual awkward stiffness. She felt restless underneath his hands, coiled tight. Alive. "I don't know," she whispered, low and husky. "Not--not yet."
Dallas was in the corner, talking to Jasper as people continued to drift out of the warehouse. But his gaze was on the women. On Lex. He was still high on the success of the evening, on their joint rule and shared, seamless power.
"There's nothing Dallas wouldn't give her tonight." Bren murmured the words in Six's ear. "If Lex wants Rachel, he'll do it."
Her breathing hitched. "What would you do if she wanted me?"
Does she? It didn't matter. His hand clenched in Six's shirt. "She can't have you. Not tonight."
"Possessive, aren't you?"
"She can't have you." The words ripped free of him again, rough and raw. "Maybe not ever."
Six shivered, all teasing gone from her voice. "What about everyone else?"
She liked to watch, but she'd never given a single hint that she wanted to join in anyone's sexual revelries. "We look," he said finally, "but I'm the only one who touches you."
She slid her hand over his, pressing his palm tight to her abdomen, and there was something almost soothing in the way she stroked his wrist. "I don't need anyone else."