by Laura Wright
“Was there anyone else locked in the cell with you?”
He shook his head. “I was alone, although I could hear the other prisoners. At the time I didn’t know what happened to my parents.”
Yeah. That she understood as well. “What did they do to you? Benson’s grunts.”
“I was tortured. Plain and simple.” The words were hard. Bleak. Emotionless. “Varied from day to day. Sometimes they used a whip on me. Other times a knife.”
Jesus.
“Hardly felt it after a while. Then something changed in me and I started to crave it. Every kick, every slash.”
Around them, the air was thick. With pain and desire and rage. Elyon’s hand slid from his neck to his chest, the tips of her fingers moving over the exquisite lines of his tattoos. She hissed as she felt the rough edge of a thick scar.
“At the end, when I would give them nothing, not a word, not even a motherfucking whimper, they would pierce my chest with iron rings and hang me from them.”
Her back to the mat, her eyes on him, her cat roaring and scratching at her skin with fury, Elyon knew, for the first time in her life, a deep and unwavering blood hunger for revenge. Forget the mind and what was left of his heart, torture like that didn’t leave the cells. Oh, Goddess, she hoped very much she crossed paths with the bastards who’d tortured Max. They would learn her definition of torture. For a very, very long time.
Forcing on a mask of composure, she asked softly, “Why do you think they’d do that to you?”
He smiled, but his eyes remained shark-like. “They wanted to see how much damage my body could take after they’d given me a dose of your Pantera blood.”
“Oh fucking hell,” she uttered on a low breath. No wonder… No wonder he’d called the blood infusion an infection. That was being kind. Polite. Restrained. Pantera blood running through his veins should be an honor, a great gift. But to him it was a constant reminder of a living nightmare.
She had to help him. In more ways than just the rescue. There was no turning back now. He had Pantera blood coursing through him. He was one of them now. And maybe, hopefully, in time, he would learn to appreciate what the infusions could offer him.
He was staring at her, studying her. “What’s going on in there?”
She shook her head. “I’m just…It’s bullshit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” he breathed, his expression brittle. As if he was holding onto his composure by a thin thread. “Not here.”
“What do you mean? Where—”
He cut off her words by dropping his head and kissing her.
Just like that.
Hot lips on her cool ones.
The rough stroke of his tongue against hers.
Magic exploding through her.
Holy shit. She groaned at the wonder of it and canted her hips, feeling the heavy, hard weight of his cock against her belly. Hunger raged through her and she almost felt like sobbing. Never in her life had she wanted something so desperately she’d be willing to kill for it.
“Someone’s coming,” he whispered against her mouth.
Suddenly, his weight disappeared as he surged to his feet. Elyon too was up, standing by his side in seconds.
Her body might be convulsing with lust, but her survival instincts were honed to a fine edge. She’d already caught the scent of approaching humans.
On full alert, she watched as the two men entered the gym. Both wore sweatpants with matching hoodies. One was in gray, the other in black. They had their heads shaved and the bulging muscles that came from steroids rather than nature.
Jaws tight and nipples tighter, Elyon grimaced. Tweedle-dumb and Tweedle-dumber.
As if to prove the steroids had exterminated any brain cells they might have been hiding beneath their thick skulls, the men sashayed over to the ring, eying Elyon with a blatant sexual threat.
Oh, brother.
“Well, lookie what we have here,” the man in gray sweats drawled, grabbing his crotch.
Seriously, why do men do that?
It’s just…creepy.
“We’re closed,” Max snapped.
The man in black sweats snorted. Silently Elyon renamed him Idiot One as he leered at her as if she might actually be interested in his sorry ass.
“I wondered what brought you to this shithole place,” he drawled at Max, but his eyes were pinned to Ely’s chest. “Now I know. Fringe benefits.”
Idiot Two laughed like that was the funniest joke in the world.
Seriously, this was getting embarrassing.
“How about you share some of those benefits?” Idiot Two suggested.
Max stepped forward, his body bristling with danger. And the musk of a male who was about to strike. “She’s mine.”
Elyon felt a moment of swoony goodness. His, huh?
As her cat was purring in delight, Idiot One was ruining the moment, clicking his tongue, and flexing his muscles as if afraid Elyon had missed fully appreciating them.
“Now that’s not nice,” he taunted, wagging a thick finger. “I thought we were friends.”
Max bared his teeth and seemed to grow even taller, if that was possible. Elyon arched a brow and just…admired him. Yum, yum. Did the male know just how Pantera he looked at the moment? Probably not. But it was hot as hell. Like the stuff of dreams.
Very wet ones.
Oh lordy, what was she going to do with herself? This was the asset, due back to Raphael ASAP—and she’d as good as marked him.
Cerviel was going to mock her ass for eternity, and Ram…well, he’d never forgive her.
“I don’t have friends,” Max warned.
“That’s true.” Idiot Two strolled closer. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t share.”
Max just shook his head. “I’d really advise turning around and walking away.”
Idiot One stepped up next to his friend. “You might be Victor’s current pet, but you can’t beat both of us.”
Elyon was so done.
She’d watched men like this bully and terrify women her entire life. There were few things she enjoyed more than teaching them how to act like gentlemen. And…if she was going to admit it to herself, there was the annoying fact that they’d interrupted some lip and tongue action that she would’ve really liked to have explored further.
“You want a taste of me?” Elyon asked them in her sweetest voice.
Eyes widening, it was Idiot One’s turn to share his version of the crotch grab thing. Really, she should just kill him for that alone.
“Oh, I’m going to have more than a taste, sweetheart,” he drawled.
Elyon rolled her eyes before glancing toward Max. “They’re mine,” she told him. “It’s just too good, you know?”
Max’s lips parted, as if he intended to argue with her. Then, meeting her gaze, he held up his hands in defeat. “Mind if I watch?”
Her cat was close enough to the surface to make her eyes glow and her skin prickle with heat. Pure power raced through her. “Oh, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” she murmured right before she pounced.
CHAPTER 4
Max folded his arms over his chest. It was the only way to stop himself from reaching out to grab Elyon and wrap her in his arms protectively.
This was some crazy shit. He didn’t understand himself, or the overwhelming urge he had to shield her from the two fighters. He’d never acted so possessive of a female in his entire life. Let alone one he’d just met.
But he was smart enough to know that she wasn’t a female who would thank him for his efforts.
Hell, she’d probably rip off his nuts.
Which was, you know, sexy as fuck.
Releasing a slow breath, he watched riveted as Elyon glanced from one man to the other, silently determining which was the more aggressive.
He knew both of them. Steve Hayward and his cousin Larry. They were local street thugs who’d been hired by Victor to enter the matches and take a beating from an up-and-coming contender. N
either had much talent, and even less brains.
That didn’t, however, keep them from being dangerous.
They were savage brawlers who weren’t above fighting dirty.
He watched, as with a sudden smile of anticipation, the female his body was even now crying out for, took one leaping step forward and soared over the top rope of the ring.
Damn, girl.
His eyes focused on her first opponent. Poor Steve. The guy was seriously stupid enough to assume a female was no match for him. Which was why he stood there with his arms open, as if he was going to catch her, instead of what he should’ve been doing.
Like running for his life.
Max thought he heard Elyon chuckle as she flew through the air, kicking out her foot to slam her heel directly into the idiot’s face. There was the crunching sound of cartilage being shattered, followed by a high-pitched scream of pain. Steve instantly tented his fingers over his bloody nose as he stumbled backward.
Without breaking a sweat, or a nail, Elyon landed lightly on the floor, her hands already raised as Idiot Number Two rushed forward and took a swing. She blocked a massive left hook, and feinted to the side. Larry followed, lurching off balance. Elyon swept out her foot, tripping him as he stumbled past.
Larry fell face-first on the floor, landing with a heavy thud. Elyon turned and flashed Max a wicked smile. Her face was flushed and her eyes nearly ate him up. White-hot pleasure, plus a weird sense of pride, jolted through him.
He’d growled the word Mine at the two dickheads getting their obituaries written right now. But had he meant…that? Exactly that? How could he? He’d just met her, spilled his guts to her…this Pantera female who’d been sent to rescue him…
His gaze moved over her. Sleek, sexy, badass. Her attention had returned to Steve, who was shaking off her initial blow. Smart girl. First rule of fighting was to always know where the opponents were. And what state they were in.
With a bellow of anger, Steve put his head down and charged forward, looking like an enraged bull. Elyon shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe he was that stupid.
Waiting until he was almost on top of her, she used her cat-reflexes to jump straight upward. At the same time, she aimed her knee directly at the man’s swollen nose.
Thud. Crash.
Exquisite. The shot and the girl.
Steve’s head jerked backward, blood flying from his nose. Max grimaced. The man might never breathe through that thing again.
Dropping to his knees, Steve cradled his head in his arms, clearly trying to protect himself from another blow.
“Seriously?” Elyon mocked, her voice filled with disapproval. “You whine like a baby.”
There was a muttered curse from Larry as he hauled himself to his feet.
“Think you’re tough, bitch?” he snapped.
Max thought about being pissed for the verbal cut the asshole had sent her way, but truly he felt more pity for the guy. He was about to get axed. Like sliced down the middle and put in a hole.
Elyon raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in invitation. Larry didn’t disappoint. Without pondering the inevitable consequences, he tried to wrap her in his huge arms. For a few seconds, Elyon allowed it to happen, wanting to be close enough to reach down and grab him by the balls.
For the space of a second, Larry grinned, unaware that he’d just lumbered into a trap.
Then Elyon squeezed her fingers and the man shrieked at a shrill octave that nearly burst Max’s eardrums.
“So you tell me, bubba,” Elyon said with a smug smile. “Do you think I’m tough?”
The man continued to scream as Max vaulted out of the ring and landed next to her.
“Elyon, don’t play with them,” he chided.
She sent him an overly innocent glance. “But it’s so much fun.”
“You’re getting blood everywhere.” He shook his head, his lips twitching. “And we haven’t finished your tour.”
“Fine.”
She heaved a sigh, released her grip on the man’s swollen ’nads and kicked him aside. Instantly Larry crumpled into a pile of quivering pain. Right next to his cousin who was still trying to stop the gush of blood from his nose.
Max shook his head, moving to lay a hand on Elyon’s lower back.
“Come on, Rocky, the cages are this way,” he said, steering her toward the heavy steel doors on the far end of the gym.
Wiping a splatter of blood off her chin, Elyon fell into step beside him. She wasn’t even breathing hard, Max noticed. Damn. Kickass, and sexy as hell. A lethal combination. In all his time in captivity, he hadn’t met a Pantera female. This one was truly something else, and he couldn’t deny his overwhelming attraction to her.
“We need to get out of here,” she whispered as he pushed open the doors and they stepped into the large, open space. Around the walls were rows of bleachers and in the center was a raised floor surrounded by ten-foot netting. At one time there had actually been steel cages, but as the sport became a million-dollar business, the sponsors of the matches had started to take care to ensure their best fighters weren’t accidentally injured during a battle.
The smell of bleach hit him first, revealing that they’d already cleaned the area, although the lingering stench of old blood and sweat could still be detected. As if it’d been embedded in the very fabric of the room. He recoiled as he always did. The fucking smell…
“I can’t leave,” he told her, leading her to the edge of the cage.
She leaned forward, pretending to study the heavy mat. “Together we can get past any guards,” she said. “Unless Victor has some secret security system?”
Max released a short laugh. “I’m not worried about the guards,” he assured her. “And I’m sure the hell not worried about Victor. I could’ve left this shithole any time.”
She sent him a puzzled glance. “Seriously? Then why do you want to stay?”
Want to stay? He almost laughed. Bitter and rage-filled. He was desperate to escape. But the price was far too high.
Although the gym wasn’t nearly as bad as the torture he’d suffered in Benson’s lab, he hated every minute of it. The isolation. The brutal fights. The knowledge that the minute he left his loft apartment upstairs he was constantly on camera.
It wore his nerves raw.
But from the age of fifteen, he’d accepted that his life would no longer be his own.
“They have my parents,” he said.
She straightened, eying him with an unreadable expression. “How long?”
“For years now. Too many goddamn years.”
She exhaled heavily. “Where?”
He shrugged. “In New Orleans.”
“Do you have the address?”
With a press of his hand, he urged her to move to the other side of the cage. At the same time, he studied her with a puzzled gaze.
Max frowned. He sensed that the questions weren’t just casual conversation. She was searching for information.
“They move them around,” he answered.
“Is there any way you can find out where they are right now?”
He halted, turning to face her. “What’s going on?”
She bent down, studying the area beneath the cage in an effort to keep anyone watching them through the camera from reading her lips.
“If you can give me a location, I can have them rescued with one text.”
Max laughed bitterly, then sobered as he took in her expression. “You’re serious?”
She arched a brow. “Always.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Mmmm… You probably shouldn’t.”
It was all she said. No convincing, no assurance, no nothing. Crazy. He released a shaky breath. What the hell did he believe? For so many years he’d been responsible for the welfare of his parents. Every morning he woke up with the burden of knowing their security was dependent on his willingness to obey whatever order he was given by his captors.
It was
staggering to imagine a future where they were free.
Or shit, himself.
But if it was possible…
With supreme effort, he squashed the urge to grab Elyon, look into her eyes, hard and desperate, then maybe kiss her in relief if he saw what he needed to see. Instead, he prayed he wasn’t walking into a trap, and carefully considered the best way to share what little information he had.
His gaze skimmed the room, landing on the electronic equipment that was set up in the corner. Victor made additional money on the fights by streaming them to paying customers.
“Let’s watch some TV,” he said.
She sent him a startled glance. “What?”
He gave her a slow smile. “Come with me.”
CHAPTER 5
Elyon absently followed behind Max, assuming that he had a plan. The majority of her brain was focused on his refusal to leave until he knew his parents were safe.
On one level she understood loyalty.
She would do anything for Raphael and the other members of The Six. But the fact that she’d been raised with no true family meant she struggled to fully comprehend the complexities of that dynamic. That bond.
Early on, guilt had been a constant knife in her gut. After all, if she had been a good female, a decent female, she would’ve gone looking for her mother and father as soon as she’d returned. Asked them questions, listened to their answers. Maybe forgiven them for not being the ones who’d found her. Or, if what she’d believed turned out to be true, for not searching for her every day that she’d been missing.
But things were different now. She rarely thought about them. She was…fine, good on her own. Great even. No burdens, no collateral damage if shit went south.
Max, however, had gone above and beyond. He’d remained imprisoned, been tortured and used, followed every order and demand, to keep his parents safe. He was clearly capable of true loyalty and deep love.
The thought made her feel a strange sort of longing.
“Here we go,” Max said, pulling her from her thoughts.
He stood next to a long panel and was already flipping on switches. When he was done, he pulled out a phone from the pocket of his shorts and pressed his finger against the screen. A few swipes later he had a video pulled up and was syncing it to the gym’s monitor, which was set at the end of the long table.