Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance (10 page)

“
A
nother day
, another dollar,” I mutter to myself, getting an awry look from Sage in return as he walks me down the oddly quiet line of spectators towards the cage.

I think I’ve scared the fuck out of them with what happened last time. Not that I can blame any of them, I don’t think I’m a pretty sight when I lose it the way I did with Sawyer and Salem. But it was them or me and I have a girl to fight for.

Instinctively, I look for Adrienne, and catch a glimpse of her light blue dress in the balcony as I’m let into the cage. I smile at her and she waves at me, hiding it from Wilson as she does so. Still the sweet little thing she always is.

Wilson better let her go after this bullshit or I won’t hold back the next time,
I think, almost absently as I let myself be sucked into looking at her for the few moments that I’m allowed.

Wilson’s grinning like a maniac next to her and as usual, I want to punch his lights out. No sign of Valerie today, which is probably a good thing. The wedding is soon – might even be today, I haven’t really been paying attention while trying to get my strength back for this fight – and she must be busy with preparations for her ‘happy day’.

I guess I should be thankful that Adrienne was allowed to come to the fight at all, considering everything. With her here, I think I have a good shot.

What am I saying? I
always
have a good shot. I guess the nerves are getting to me for once. This time, the fight really isn’t only for me. It’s for Adrienne,
only
for Adrienne. Her one ticket to get out of this dump. That’s the gift I want to give her.

And I will,
I add to myself, tearing my gaze away from her soft blues.

I frown, noticing that the cage isn’t exactly as it should be today. The crowd stirs as the other guy’s shown in. I recognize him. Travis Wells. Scary motherfucker.

I’ve seen him fight a few times during the tournaments, but only the ones I haven’t been in or where we’ve been separated into different leagues. They sometimes do that if the owners don’t want to lose their prized fighters. I’m not sure whether I should be touched or worried that Wilson’s so gleefully allowing me to go together with Travis.

He must have about as many kills at this point as I do.

A low murmur follows him as he walks down the path to the cage and then enters, tossing me a cocky smirk. Good old Travis. Always looking like he needs a good ass-kicking. I might just be the man up for the challenge.

I have to be.

Joe Pescopi climbs into the cage with us and the crowd hoots to welcome him. He raises his hands and greets his ardent ‘fans’ and I roll my eyes. Travis seems to be of the same mindset, thought he seems to be a little jittery. I frown. Odd.

“Hello, fight fans! I’m so glad to see all of you here tonight!” Joe slurs, clearly a bit drunk already.

He never gets in the cage with us so that can only mean bad things. I glance at the middle of the octagon, considering the two wooden pots on a stool there, with straps of linen cloth stacked up next to them. My stomach churns. I think I know where this night is headed and I don’t like it one bit.

“We have something special for you planned tonight! With our host Mister Cobb’s wedding coming up soon, he’s been extremely gracious in allowing us to use his facilities, but he also wants to give you a tasty treat for the finals! Tonight, it’s not just man versus man, but there’s a twist.”

Fucking yes there is.

Joe motions at the two canisters and both I and Travis take a step closer, recognizing them for what they are. One is filled with heated glue and the other with shards of broken glass in various sizes. Travis smiles in a feverish way and my expression goes stiff and steely.

They’re going to make us fight each other with glassed-up knuckles. Just to make sure there would be no end to the blood.

“What you see before you is the twist! Both fighters will wrap up their hands with cloth and dip them in glue and glass! Is that what you want to see, every hit tearing flesh, every punch bringing blood?” Joe roars, and the throng of bodies howls in response.

Grimly, I wrap up my hands and Travis does the same. He can’t stop twitching and when our eyes meet for a moment, the tall dark-haired fighter looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His eyes are completely bloodshot and his face pale. I know what it means though. He’s been shot up with something.

Suddenly, I think this fight is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than I was banking on.

“You afraid,
Angel
?” Travis asks, slurring my name a little and drawing it out.

At any other time, I would have reacted to it, maybe even thrown a punch. Now though? I ignore him and dunk my hands in the glue and glass, getting them nice and in there to create gloves of pure, sharp glass. I hold up my hands to him and cock my brow, moving my fingers a little to show the way the light dances off the glass.

“Not as much as you should be, buddy.”

I retreat from the center stage while Travis does his thing and Joe rattles off our ridiculous intros. I don’t think he even knows what he’s trying to say at this point, because over the course of the fights I’ve been a bull and a bear and now I’m apparently a hammer of some sort. Whatever, Joe. You do you, you crazy diamond.

Cracking my neck, I center myself, warming up my feet. Sage and Tommy come in to retrieve the pots and Joe in the process, who won’t shut up. As soon as the door closes behind them and the lock clicks shut, the bell is rung.

The crowd goes insane and Travis comes at me like a freight train, grinning wild and his eyes red and filled with bloodlust. I afford myself one more look at Adrienne and she has covered her mouth with her hands, watching in stunned horror at what’s about to go down.

This is for you, sugar.

I let out a breath and take a step forward, meeting Travis. His first hook goes wide over my head as I duck under it and I counter with a right to the abdomen, making him grit his teeth. He faints a few time with his left, but just as I think I’ve got his rhythm down, he hits me square in the shoulder.

The glass bites into my flesh, leaving blood and pain in its wake. I hiss out a breath and jump backwards. I know it won’t do me any good, but I can’t help but check out the damn wound. A thick line of red dribbles down my right shoulder, the same way that Travis is bleeding on his stomach.

The spectators eat it up. Why wouldn’t they, we’re nothing more than a glorified cock fight to them. They don’t care that there are men in here, fighting for their lives, willing themselves to survive.

Willing someone else to survive.

I want to look up at Adrienne so badly, but I don’t. I don’t want to see the fear in her eyes that is undoubtedly there, seeing me take a wound like that already. And I don’t have time anyway because Travis comes at me, fists swinging.

We meet in the middle again and I try to sweep his feet out from under him, but he dodges my foot and almost catches me in the left knee for it. The fucker’s good, I’ll give him that. Far better than he has any right to be, and it’s like he doesn’t even notice the wound on his abs at this point. I can’t see any bit of the man that’s supposed to be in him anymore, just the desire to win. Or maybe not even that. Frankly, there’s not much going on behind that vacant gaze.

A series of reflexes and trained muscle motions, heightened by the right concoction of drugs and fury. Fucking dangerous.

I catch Travis in the shoulder with my next hit and then in the forearms a few times, leaving horrific gashes in my wake. He doesn’t let me get off any easier, pounding into my raised forearms whenever he gets a chance, trying to go for my face.

That’s the thing with fighting with glass, you’re never safe. We’re trained to keep our guard up, our faces protected, but there’s no use to that if every hit you take regardless brings you closer to bleeding out.

I have to take a few steps back, put distance between us so I could get a chance to breathe. Though I’m giving back as hard as I’m getting, it’s like Travis doesn’t even fucking realize it. Like I could tear him limb from limb and he’d still barely bat an eye at it. He follows me right away, not giving me a moment to catch my breath. I grunt, taking a few more steps back, before blowing forward.

I come at him hard and fast, chomping down on my mouth guard so it wouldn’t fly out of my mouth. I catch him in the jaw after two faints and a hit to the abdomen and get pounded in my wounded oblique for the trouble. I can feel the barely-healed wound tearing up again and every hit sends pain rattling through me, but I have to ignore it.

I hear what I think is Adrienne’s voice, yelping as Travis knocks me in the jaw. The last thing I see before I hit the springy floor is Adrienne’s shocked eyes as she leans over the edge of the balcony, watching me go down.

I try to roll out of Travis’ path but he’s on me like a hawk. He sits on me, pinning me down by the hips, and pounds at me with this maniacal grin that I can’t even describe. It’s like he’s fucking possessed. His mouth guard flies out of his mouth as he slams punch after punch into my raised forearms, making them quake and the blood splatter around us and on me.

“Angel! Memphis!” Adrienne screams, and she sounds like she’s losing her mind.

“Just give up, you fucker,” Travis snarls, and I fucking ignore him.

I feel the pain begin to fall away and that’s a good thing for now. I twist underneath him and I have to drop my hands to give myself a chance to shove him off. Travis gets a few good knocks at my chest and I howl out in pain as the sharp shards prick through my skin and some of them become wedges in my flesh.

I shove my palms into Travis’ chest and send him flying backwards. He leans back from my hips and I can put enough momentum in the movement to knock him off of me. We’re both up on our feet a second later.

I can feel that rage brimming again within me. Throwing one reassuring glance up at Adrienne, I charge again. I have to do this; I have to give her this. She has to get out of this hellhole before it destroys her. This is no fucking place for her and I don’t care if I have to bleed out in the process, but I will win and I will get her the freedom she deserves.

So I lunge at Travis. I stop trying to defend myself and just go for the jugular. Hit after hit meets flesh and we’re both going at one another like rabid animals. I get a hook on his legs but he jumps over it, grinning. He doesn’t even fucking feel the pain. I send him into the fencing and pound into his face while he tries to hit my jaw and my groin.

The cuts are too fucking close for comfort.

Suddenly, I get an idea. I don’t think I can outlast Travis, not with what he’s hopped up on. But I can take him out another way.

Looking up, I see the gleaming barbed wire, glinting above us. I knock Travis in the face again and a tooth comes flying out. Momentarily, he’s dazed, and I put my hands on his shoulders and one foot on his hip, using him to scale upward.

My hands are wrapped up so I don’t feel it when I grab for the barbed wire and yank it down. Or maybe they’re just so fucked up at this point that I don’t sense it anymore.

The wire doesn’t break, just skims down from where I grabbed it. Travis opens his swelling eyes in time to see me loop the cord around his neck once and then twist and pull. His eyes almost pop out of their sockets as I spin him around, face-first into the cage wall, and hold him there with my knee and elbow as I yank backwards with my right hand.

Blood splutters and juts out from the puncture wounds in his neck as I choke him with the barbed wire. My forearms are shaking and every time I strain them, more dark blood seeps out of the wounds. The crowd is trying to gather closer to where I am holding Travis, like they want to be doused by the blood. It’s sick.

He struggles with all he has, but it’s not enough. I can feel him getting limper and when I pull again, a giant gush of blood flies from the side of his neck, coating my chest and shoulders with crimson. I finally hit an artery.

I let go and he slumps against the fence, slowly falling to the ground, lifeless.

I stand, barely, heaving in breaths, each inhale I take bringing blood from my nostrils or mouth into the back of my throat. I spit it out and it barely makes a difference on the soaked floor.

“Angel!” the crowd cheers, awe and fervent admiration in their voices. “Angel of Pain!”

That’s fucking right.

I turn away from Travis. He didn’t deserve this. None of us do. But I needed to win.

I look up at the balcony and Adrienne’s crying outright, hiding her face in her hands. I didn’t want her to see this, but I had no choice.

Wilson gets up and raises his hands and for a moment, the crowd hushes.

“Ladies and gents, we have a winner! My very own Angel!” he announces, and there’s more screaming as I fight to stay on my feet instead of keeling over. “This is Angel’s one hundredth victory! But don’t fear, this is not the last time you’ll see of him! Oh no! Angel has decided to stay with our little organization and in return for this, he has given his prize to someone else.”

That’s all Wilson says, but it’s enough for Adrienne to look up. First at him, and then as realization hits her, at me. Her mouth falls open and her brows furrow. I smile at her and I must look like a monster, dripping with blood.

“Memphis,” I see her lips whisper.

All for you, sugar.

My one hundredth win makes up for the last couple. It’s as sweet as I wanted it to be.

A
fter the fight
, Sage comes to get me. My whole body is shivering as I walk to Memphis’ cell.

I keep remembering the words Cobb said, about Memphis giving up his freedom.

They didn’t say it, but I understood who it was for. For me.

He gave it all up for me.

My heart pounds. I never asked him to do it, I never expected him to exchange his freedom for my own. But he went and did it anyway…

W
hen I saw
Memphis in the ring, he was hurt and bloodied, and I don’t know what to expect now. It was hard to tell how much of the blood was his and how much Travis’. Every time I close my eyes, I see the gruesome sight of Travis’ body slumped on the ground, blood pooling around him. The lengths Wilson has pushed these men to go to is disgusting and horrific.

I want to run to Memphis’ cell, to see how he is, to kiss him. Will he be alright, or hurt beyond what I can imagine? I don’t know, and it’s making my heart jump with fear and nerves.

“There you go, Miss,” Sage tells me.

Today, his usually stern voice has a hint of softness to it, and I briefly ponder how close he is with Memphis. I wonder whether they’re friends, and if he cares how badly hurt Memphis just got.

As soon as Sage opens the door leading into Memphis’ cell, I see a slumped figure on the floor, sitting next to his bed. I gasp and run up to him, Sage already forgotten. All I hear is the soft click of the lock as the door shuts in place, my mind racing as I kneel down next to Memphis.

“Memphis,” I breathe. “Are you okay? Are you… are you alright?”

He grunts, and my fingers trail a line down his spine. I can tell he’s hurt badly. His whole body is mangled. He’s cradling his head in his hands and I gently pry them away from him, gasping when I see the damage on his arms.

“I need to c-clean this out,” I stutter, getting up and nearly stumbling.

I feel so fucking dizzy, the sight of his torn up forearms making me want to throw up on the spot. Not knowing what else to do, I tear the sheets off his bed and run to the sink. I turn on the water, but the liquid that comes out of the rusty pipes looks nothing like what I’d expect it to.

I wait a few moments for the water to run clearer, the dirty brown liquid running down the drain. I finally run the sheets under the stream and get back to Memphis, sitting down cross-legged next to him on the floor.

“It’s going to be alright,” I tell him in a shaky voice.

He grunts again as I start to clean out his wounds, the sheet coming away bloodied and grimy. I know the wounds will be patched up later by someone else, but I guess Wilson didn’t care enough to allow them to patch him up right away this time. Maybe he wanted Memphis to suffer. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

I make quick work of cleaning out the cuts on his hand, and the old gash on his side. He’s hurting badly, and once I’m done, I’ve no idea what else to do.

“Let me help you get back on the bed,” I murmur at him.

He nods in response, accepting my help.

I somehow manage to support him and half-drag his body on top of the bed, now sans sheets. He helps me somewhat, and his heavy body fills the bed.

“Come here,” he orders me, finally looking at me with a semblance of the man I know him to be. “You need to be next to me.”

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if it’s good for him to be so close to someone else after all he’s been through. But his eyes don’t allow me to object, and I climb on the bed, lying down next to him and pressing my body to his.

The white dress I’m wearing is going to be horribly stained with his blood – not that I give a damn. All I care about is making Memphis feel better.

His shaky hand finds my cheek and he gently pushes a strand of hair off my face.

“Thank you, sugar,” he says in that deep, rumbly voice that makes me go weak at the knees. “Thanks for helping me. I was sure I was a goner this time around.”

“You’re okay,” I whisper.

His mouth hits mine with an unspoken demand, and I mold my lips to his, needing to feel him move with me. He tries to turn on his side, but growls instead, realizing he can’t move. I gently push him back on the bed, not wanting him to hurt himself further.

“I need you,” he grunts against my lips. “I need to feel you closer.”

“Lie back,” I order him.

For once, he actually obeys.

I slide down his body, pulling down his wrecked clothes. He’s already shirtless, but his shorts are in tatters and they all but fall apart when I try to get them off. He isn’t wearing boxers, and his dick stands to attention, thick and throbbing with need.

I look up at him for confirmation, and his hand tangles in my mane of hair.

“Come on, sugar,” he says, his grey-blue eyes ablaze. “I need to feel something other than pain right now.”

He tries to pull me back up, into his arms, but I won’t let him. Memphis indulges me and lets me settle between his legs as I look at his cock, wondering how the hell it’s going to fit…

Tentatively, I lean forward until my lips meet the head of it. As soon as my tongue is out to lick the bead of precum on the tip, he groans out loud, his fingers pulling on my hair.

“Don’t tease me like that,” he tells me. “I can’t fucking handle it tonight.”

“I’m not teasing,” I whisper against his skin, following my statement with a long lick of his shaft.

His hips move, and his cock pushes into my mouth, making me gasp for breath. All it does is make his cock go deeper, hitting the back of my throat. I nearly choke – he doesn’t fit. But the look of pure, hazy-eyed pleasure on Memphis’ face makes me want to suck him dry.

My hand reaches out for the base, the other one finding his balls. Memphis’ hands let go of my head and he runs them through his hair, groaning my name.

“Don’t stop, Adrienne,” he tells me. “Don’t fucking stop now. I need this.”

I lick shyly at first, but seeing the response his body has to my tongue, I get braver and braver. I start sucking simultaneously, getting him as deep inside as I possibly can. Memphis starts pumping his hips inside my mouth ever so slightly, and my fingers scramble for something to grab onto on the now sheet-free mattress.

“Fuck, sugar,” Memphis grunts. “Just like that. Just like that.”

I couple my licks and sucks with my hand pumping his dick into my mouth, and he nearly loses it. His taste is taking over my senses, claiming victory over every single taste bud on my tongue.

I’ve never done this before, and in that instant, I know I’ll never do it with anyone else, either. Nothing will ever match up to Memphis – the way he tastes and fills me up, like we’re two puzzle pieces destined to fit together.

“I can’t hold on,” he tells me, one hand tangling back in my hair. “I need to cum. Open your mouth, Adrienne.”

I do as he tells me, still pumping his cock with my hand. He reaches out for me and I look up at him, my mouth wide open. When I hear him say my name, the tone heady and full of lust, my lips go back to his cock, wrapping around his head and sucking, sucking, sucking.

“That’s right,” he tells me, his voice full of restraint that’s about to break any second now. “That’s a good girl. Milk it dry.”

I feel him throb and my throat constricts, so fucking desperate for his release. And in the next second, I get exactly what I wanted.

Memphis comes down my throat, releasing every drop of his cum in my mouth. And it’s not enough, so I keep sucking desperately while I swallow his seed.

“Fuck, sugar,” he tells me, grabbing on to my hair. “Just like that.”

He lazily bucks his hips, pushing his cock into my mouth. I feel him leaking the last few drops, and he growls as he fills my mouth for the second time. Once his dick throbs a final time, I feel his body go slack as he lies back.

I swallow one last time, making sure his cock is licked clean. He groans softly as I finish up, letting my tongue roll over my lips for one last taste of my man. Once I’m finally satisfied, I move back to him, and he twines his fingers in mine.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I whisper against his lips. “I just needed to make you cum… I wanted to give you
something
for tonight...“

His mouth claims mine in a thankful kiss, and I let lust and love overtake my body.

He strokes my hair and I settle into the crook of his arm. We lie like that for a long time, and I almost manage to forget about all the trouble we’ve yet to face. I feel almost sleepy, and I’m sure I could drift off, lying with him like this. But there’s more on my mind, and I need to get it out. Now.

“You gave up your freedom,” I whisper. “You gave it all up… for me.”

He doesn’t say a word, just trails his fingers up and down my back.

“Memphis…”

“Don’t, sugar.”

His voice is a growl, and he won’t let me go on. Every time I try to, he places a finger on my lips. He won’t let me object, and I won’t let it go. But I decide to change the subject for a second, maybe get his mind off the freedom thing, and come back to it later.

“I love you, Adrienne,” he says suddenly, his lips flush against my mouth. “My sugar.”

I blush, but make myself lock eyes with him nonetheless.

“I love you too, Memphis… My Angel.”

My heart pounds with his confession, and my own following it. We finally said it. The feeling that’s been building up inside of me since the moment I first saw Memphis finally has a name.

I giggle. Now I feel like I’ll never be able to stop saying it.

“I love you, Memphis Danvers,” I whisper.

“Yeah?” Memphis chuckles, kissing the top of my head. “You like my last name?”

“I do.”

I smile at him.

“Good,” he says. “Because it’s going to be yours someday, too.”

I grin, then sit on my knees, looking down at him. He looks a little bit better now, less pale than before. His wounds still look horrible but there’s nothing we can do about that for now.

His gaze travels down my body lazily, and I toy with the hem of my dress, giving him a view of my pussy, still clad in a light pink thong. Memphis growls at the sight of it.

“Don’t tempt me like that, woman,” he tells me, and I giggle again.

There’s a knock on the door. Next thing, the thing flies open and Sage barges in, looking at us impassively. If he’s surprised by Memphis’ nakedness, he doesn’t comment or show it.

“Time to go, Miss,” he tells me in that calm and collected voice of his, though there’s a hint of urgency to it.

I guess Wilson let him know that time was up.

“Could we have a moment longer?” I beg him. “We were talking…”

“’Fraid not.”

Sage looks at me expectantly, and I get up, leaving a lingering kiss on Memphis’ lips.

“I’ll see you soon,” I promise him. “Very very soon.”

“You will,” he confirms.

I turn to leave and he smacks my ass playfully, making me giggle. There’s nothing to laugh about, because he’s cut up to hell, my mother’s about to marry a monster and then I’m supposed to leave them both behind, but I guess we try to find the humor in what we can.

God, I’ll miss you,
I think, glancing at Memphis.

Sage pretends not to notice the silliness as he leads me out of the cell. I keep my head down, waving at Memphis one last time before I leave. I’m glad I made him feel a little bit better. After seeing him go down in that ring, I was worried he wouldn’t make it.

I should have never doubted him. Angel can do anything if he puts his mind to it, obviously.

I follow Sage upstairs and wait for him to lock the door of my room behind me. For some reason though, he lingers, and I look at him expectantly.

“Anything else?” I ask him.

“Just…” He clears his throat nervously, looking down the hallway to make sure we’re alone. “Be careful, Miss.?”

He starts to close the door, but I put my foot between it, looking up at Sage with a concerned expression.

“What do you mean?” I ask him. “It’s going to be better from now on, isn’t it?”

“Miss…” Sage tries to move past me, but I won’t let him.

Finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair and looking at me with worry plainly etched on his face.

“When Cobb wants something, he always gets it,” he tells me.

“I know.” My reply is bitter. “He wants my mom, and he’s going to get her in a few days.”

“I don’t mean her,” Sage says, deadpan. “I mean you, Miss.”

“What?”

I’m about to shoot a thousand more questions his way, but he gently pushes me back inside my room and I hear the lock clicking into place. I’m left alone, with all those unanswered questions making my head spin.

And I just know things are about to get worse.