You Are Mine (Forever)

by Kar, Alla

  Glancing up at the cage, I see Jason rooting the crowd on more. “What about it?”

  “Look at these girls, Layla. Half of them are half-naked, throwing themselves at your boyfriend. That doesn’t make you angry? You know he signs their posters, probably signs their tits.”

  I scoff. “This isn’t Rock of Ages, Damon.”

  He reaches for my arm, making me look up at him. “I just don’t see how you take it, that’s all. You deserve a guy that’s all yours.”

  “He is mine,” I snap.

  He sighs and removes his hand. “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”

  I open my mouth to say something when Cindy nudges me. I glance over at her and notice everyone in the arena is staring at me. What the fuck…

  That’s when I see Taylor standing in the cage, anger steaming off of him. He is shirtless, the ridges in his arms bulging. I can see his chest rise and fall in heavy breathes. He is pissed. Oh, no.

  Taylor points toward Damon and smiles. “Looks like we have one pissed off fighter tonight, people!” Jason screams, pushing the crowd to encourage the anger.

  “Oh, he is pissed,” Cindy whispers in my ear.

  Damon nudges my shoulder. “He looks angry,” Damon whispers. He looks almost pleased that he is mad.

  “Nothing to be proud of,” I snap. “He’ll beat your ass.”

  Damon bends over and slaps his knee. “Wow, what faith you have in me, Layla.”

  I shrug. “Well, you provoked it.”

  “How?” He turns toward me. “I’m sitting here, and he gets mad. Is he that insecure that he can’t have anyone sitting next to his girlfriend?”

  I turn my head away from him. I hate that Taylor is so jealous, but he says he has a bad feeling about Damon and it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to change any of that. Jason calls all of our attention back to the match. The guy Taylor is fighting, has muscles on his muscles. If I didn’t know Taylor any better than I did, I would say he was going to get creamed, but I know that’s not going to happen.

  “Let’s get this fight started, shall we?” Jason yells, hitting his hand over the microphone. He stands, like a fourth grader to two seniors, in the middle of the rings. Both men look like they could pulverize him. “Now, let’s start this out with a hand shake, okay guys?”

  Kevin spits on the cage floor, when Taylor offers his hand. A wicked smile crawls up Taylor’s jaw as he lets his hand drop to this side. “Now, let’s be gentlemen, lads,” Jason says, raising his hand in the air. “Ready, set, match,” he yells, backing up toward the cage door.

  Kevin takes a quick jab that Taylor dodges, and Taylor sends a right hook to Kevin’s cheek. His head swings back from the impact, and the crowd cheers. I could see the fire behind that punch. If I had to guess I would say he is pretending its Damon.

  “Nice jab, Taylor. Take me home tonight,” some girl in the crowd yells. Red runs to my cheeks, and I clinch my fists together. Damon is staring down at me. I don’t look up at him. I don’t dare.

  Kevin lets out a murderous growl and starts running full speed toward Taylor. I’m on the edge of my seat watching. Taylor steadies himself and sends me a quick glare before reaching out and slamming his fist against Kevin’s neck. He gurgles, falls over and holds his chest. The crowd is silent for a few, short seconds. When Kevin stands, the crowd starts screaming again.

  His cheek is bleeding, and he is barely keeping his hand in front of his face. It’s definitely a pride thing, not giving up.

  Taylor frowns, and I can tell he knows Kevin has had enough, but he has to keep fighting. Kevin is swaying now, his eyes rolling back in his head. He is obviously not used to getting hit. He is normally the hitter. Taylor gives him a few slugs that I know aren’t half as hard as he can hit, and Kevin goes soaring down to the cage floor.

  The room burst with applause, but Taylor is staring over at me instead of doing his normal victory dance. The sweat pouring down his body is making his muscle glisten. It’s terrifyingly beautiful.

  He turns his head to the side, cracking his neck. His gray eyes dart toward Damon. My stomach turns over, and I feel like I’m going to puke. When Taylor walks out of the cage, toward the V.I.P section, I give Brett a quick help me glance. There is no way in Hell I’ll be able to keep Taylor off of anyone, I can’t even keep him off of me. But, instead of beating Damon to a pulp, Taylor grabs my arm and pulls me toward him. His lips are soft on my neck, as he trails them up toward my ear. “Meet me in the locker room, now.”

  Then he disappears into the crowded room, people jumping and feeling all on him.

  “Well, if I were you I’d follow him,” Brett says, wrapping his arm around Cindy.

  I nod. “I’m going.” I turn toward Damon, but he isn’t standing by me anymore. I let out a little sigh of relief. Pushing my way through the crowd, I try to talk myself into a great way to approach Taylor. I finally come to the conclusion that saying nothing is probably the best way to go about it.

  A few girls are standing outside his locker room when I get there. One steps in front of me. She is about two feet taller than me, especially with her hooker heels on. “Um, no one gets into Taylor’s locker room, hon.”

  Aggravated, I push her aside. “He is my fucking boyfriend, now move,” I say. I hear her gasp, and a few girls start talking shit behind me. I don’t care; I just want to get this the hell over with.

  I don’t bother knocking. I just walk in and lock the door behind him. Taylor is facing away from me, shirt off, bent over the sink, pouring water all over his face. His hair is all over the place, sweat drizzling down his neck.

  “Oh, Layla,” he whispers, turning around to face me. I feel like a small child. I wrap my arms around my waist, to distract myself from the nerves fluttering around in my stomach. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw set tight.

  “You won,” I say lamely.

  He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, only stares at me. I feel my heartbeat quicken, and I bite my lip.

  “Do you know how I felt when I saw Damon sitting by you tonight?”

  “I think I can guess,” I whisper.

  He laughs, without humor, taking a few steps until he is in front of me. “I wanted to rip him apart. He is doing this on purpose.” His grip on my upper arm scares me, but I remain still.

  “Layla,” he whispers in my ear, letting his tongue ring flick against my earlobe. “I wanted to pound his face in. Do you understand that?”

  I nod, my body racing. “Yes. He just followed us in. He had a V.I.P pass and everything.”

  Taylor clenches his jaw. “Well, I’ll make sure he isn’t able to get another one. He likes you,” he says through gritted teeth. “And I won’t have it.”

  I tremble as his hand engulfs my waist. “He touched your leg. He won’t touch it again.”

  I bite my lip and glance up at him. “Okay,” I say.

  Taylor groans, tangling his fingers in my hair, lifting my chin up to face him. “He is bad news, I feel it. If I see him around you again, besides tutoring, I will beat the fuck out of him. Do you understand that?”

  Heat is pouring between my legs now, my blood racing against my veins. There is something so raw and dominate about him. It makes me weak-kneed. “Yes.”

  Taylor smiles. “You’re breathing hard, baby. What’s wrong?” He smiles, and he knows he is driving me crazy.

  I turn my face away from him, but Taylor grabs my ass and holsters me up onto his waist, pressing me against his locker room wall. “You want me?” he whispers into my ear.

  I relaxed onto the wall and nodded slightly.

  “Say you want me, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.” His hand runs down my neck and grips on lightly.

  “I want you,” I say in a breathless gasp.

  He smiles into my neck and shifts so he is holding me with one hand on my ass and the other in my hair. The softness of his lips makes me moan. After he kisses me senseless, he runs his hand over my nipple, playing with the p
eaked tip. I grind my hips against his, but he pulls me back a bit. “Tell me what you want, Layla.”

  “You.”

  “How?”

  “Hard,” I say, hoping for a release, that I’m sure will make my night much better.

  He growls and drops me to the ground. “Grab your stuff, follow me.” I’m half-way disappointed when he tugs me out of the locker room. Since when does being in a locker room keep Taylor from having his way with me? The few girls that were there before give me sneers. I flip them off, before Taylor pulls me out the back entrance. His Hummer is in the back parking lot that is designated for the fighters. He opens the back door and lays me down on my back, before locking us in.

  His breath is minty and his body warm. “I want inside you, Layla. Tell me you want me in there.” He tugs off my shirt and pulls my bra down, before running his tongue ring against my nipple. I shiver against him.

  “I want you inside me,” I moan.

  The tenderness of his finger against my jeans makes me fidgety. Sliding them down my legs, I open my thighs wide, waiting for him. Wanting him. Needing him.

  He takes me in, mouth agape, cock growing in his jeans against my thigh. “Jesus, Layla,” he says, before pulling my underwear to the side, sliding his fingers against me.

  I arch my back, loving the feel of his calloused finger against my soft, sensitive folds. He pushes it in and then back out, dangerously slow. “Please,” I beg.

  Taylor smiles. “I love when you beg. But, baby, believe me, you don’t have to.” Ripping his jeans down over his thick thighs, he pulls his cock out, hovering over me. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby.”

  I grin up at him. “You always do.”

  ***

  When we pull into the parking lot of my apartment building, I’m thrilled. My head is light and my body is humming from the time Taylor and I had in the back seat. I’m so high on him that I almost don’t see the letter attached to Taylor’s front door. It says nothing, only the picture of a scorpion drawn in the center of the white paper.

  Taylor snatches it down and pulls me inside.

  Chapter Five

  Layla

  I can’t breathe. My lungs feel like they’re filled with cement. He does know where Taylor lives, he knows where I live. How long has he been watching us? Is he going to make his move tonight? Tomorrow? The next day?

  Taylor bends down on one knee in front of me. “Layla, I need you to calm down and breath. You’re not breathing normal.” His eyes are soft, but his jaw is set tight.

  “What are we going to do?” I let out a soft sob, covering my face in my hands. They smell like sweat from the locker room. I don’t even give a damn.

  Taylor guides my head to his shoulder. “Shh, come here. I want you to go take a shower. We’re going to go to the cops.”

  Cops? Really? “Do you think that’s going to help? I mean, we have no clues, no evidence. They couldn’t find anything last time, what makes you think they will find something this time?”

  Taylor stands and shrugs. “It’s the only option we have.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later we’re sitting in the police department waiting for the detective to come get us. I’m not too thrilled about being here. First off, I’ve never liked cops. With me growing up around my dad hustling people, we’ve had plenty of dealings with them. My dad fought more than any other Dad I had ever met. At least they don’t know about my dad here, or me.

  Taylor is holding the first letter and the new one in-between his fingers of his interlocked hands. He is calm, which is more than I can say for myself. My leg is tapping fiercely against the tile floor, and my arms kind of feel numb.

  “I still say this is a waste of time,” I mumble out.

  Taylor sighs, but doesn’t look over at me. “What other option do we have? We have absolutely nothing to go on. He is invisible to us, Layla.”

  He isn’t invisible to me. I see him everywhere. At school, in my dreams, in our bed. He haunts me every second of every day.

  The office door swings open, and Detective Vice steps out. He is about forty, salt-and-peeper hair and helped us with the first incident.

  A cheesy smile rides up his face. I want to smack it off. “Back again, are we?” he asks. This is serious, and he takes nothing serious.

  Taylor stands and raising his hand with the letters. “More evidence. Found this on our door when we got home.”

  Detective Vice waves us in his office and shuts the door behind us. Taking a seat behind his desk, he gestures for the letters. His brow furrows when he glances down at the scorpion. “It’s only a scorpion.”

  I mentally kick him in the head. “Remember, it was on the first note. The other one,” I say, grabbing the letter from Taylor and handing it to him.

  He nods and scratches his mustache. “I see.”

  “A scorpion tattoo was on the guy that murdered my parents. It was on his face.”

  Detective Vice glances at Taylor then back at me. His large eyes are narrowed in concentration. “Weren’t you small when that happened?”

  Ugh. I know exactly what he is getting at. I was too small to remember exactly what happened. “Listen, buddy--,”

  “Layla,” Taylor warns, squeezing my leg. “Listen, is this enough evidence to go through the records and look for anyone with a scorpion on his face? This is his way of scaring us. Harassing us.”

  Detective Vice sighs and pats his thighs. “Maybe. I tell you what. I’ll look into this and see if I can find anyone with this on their face. I’ll call you when I find something, okay?”

  Taylor squeezes my hand and stands up. “Thank you, Detective.”

  He shakes Taylor’s hand and glances down at me. “I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, Layla. I’m just a man of facts, things that can be proven. I’m going to help you get this guy the best way I can. But, since we don’t have very much evidence, this is all we can do for now. I hope you understand.”

  I do understand. That the law system sucks big balls. “Okay, thanks,” I mumble. “Well, also, my apartment was broken into. We went to pick up some clothes and my room is demolished.”

  He sighs. “Okay, we’ll need to fill out a police report and check it out.” He sits back down at his desk, pulls out a pad and pen. “Tell me everything you know.”

  ***

  After thirty minutes of telling Vice everything we know, he says they will go check it out. My legs still feel wobbly, but I make myself keep going. Taylor escorts me out and wraps his hand around my shoulder when we get outside. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep us safe.”

  I sure as hell hope so.

  ***

  I’m standing outside of the library and no one knows but Damon. It’s Thursday evening and time for my next tutoring session. My fingers are gripped tightly around my econ notebook and book. My tongue feels dry, and I’m sure it’s because I’m lying to Taylor. Well, I’m not lying exactly. I told him I had tutoring today. He ignored me. So, I just told Damon to meet me in the library.

  He is sitting at a second floor table, right by the start of the book cases, when I walk up the stairs. He doesn’t see me at first, so I glance over him. He really is good-looking. He has the tall, dark and handsome thing going for him. But, he does seem like an arrogant pig sometimes. Then he turns around and goes all ‘hero’ on me at Taylor’s apartment. Making sure I’m okay.

  He finally sees me and tosses his head up in acknowledgement. “Didn’t think you were coming.”

  I sling my backpack on the table and take a seat in front of him. “I said to meet me here, I’m just running a little late. Professor kept us a little longer today.”

  He nods, then runs his fingers over his jaw. “You look a little pale. Are you okay?”

  I debate telling him. Most people at this school know about Rod, but hardly anyone knows about my parents. And especially scorpion guy. “Just some stuff, nothing too big.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

 
I shake my head, grab my book and open it. “No, I want to start before Taylor finds us.”

  “I’m not scared of him, Layla. Sure, he is the big guy on campus and could probably pound me into the ground, but that doesn’t make me scared. I would still hold my ground.”

  Why is he telling me this? I feel like he is trying to let me know he can fight and would if it came down to it. I don’t want anyone to fight. “I don’t want anyone to fight. That’s ridiculous.”

  He jerks his head back and looks at me like I’m crazy. “Your boyfriend is a cage fighter, Layla and you don’t like fighting?”

  “That’s different. Both are fighting to win, for applause, for sport. You’re talking about fighting because you don’t like Taylor, and Taylor doesn’t like you.”

  “I love Taylor,” he says, straight-faced.

  I try not to laugh but I do anyway. “Shut the hell up and help me.”

  An hour later, I’m fully caught up on econ notes. My head fills like it’s going to explode all on the library table. I think it may be a nice release. “Oh, I’m so glad I don’t have to think about econ for a while. Thank you for helping me catch up on this.”

  Damon waves me off and shoves his notes in his bag. “So, want to go get something to eat?”

  What? This is not a good idea, and he knows it. By the sly smile on his lips, I know he knows it. “Damon--,”

  “Hi Damon,” someone says beside me. I glance up and over at Holly. Holly is a senior, volley ball player, with long legs, blonde hair and tan allover. She glances down at me and gives me a small half-lipped smile.

  Damon glances up at her and waits for her to say something. “Hi, Heather. Do you need something?”

  She presses her perfectly painted pink lips together and leans over the table, her boobs spilling out of her shirt. “Yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite to eat with me.”

  “Nah, not hungry. Thanks though.” What. The. Fuck. He just asked me if I wanted to go get something to eat.

  She frowns, and her cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Okay,” she says before disappearing into the rows of books.