by Nicole Snow
All because I had to satisfy my ego against my billionaire father's.
I think about Claire. She'll never fuck me if I don't win this fight, and I can't blame her. It's not about being pounded to a pulp by a stronger man.
The only one beating me right now is my own fucked up lack of discipline and self-control. It's everything she scorns, and all because my dick's begging my brain to let him jackhammer between her legs twenty-four seven.
I can still move, so I'm not dead. I have to fight. I can't fucking give up.
Fat Boy's tiny eyes whirl with dark excitement. He's cold, stunned, frozen in disbelief. The bastard probably can't believe he's done it, beaten Ty Sterner on his own turf. The asshole has a few heavenly seconds where all the incredible possibilities of winning flash before his eyes.
That's all he gets before I bolt and uppercut the fucker's jaw with both fists, before the ref can call the win.
I hear the crack. It's loud and sharp as lightning. If I haven't broken his jaw, then it's splintered at the very least, and he's probably lost a few teeth.
The audience surrounds us in a deafening, chattering blanket as I jump, landing on top of him. Something primal rips through me. My senses are so overwhelmed I can barely see, but I don't need to as long as I can feel him underneath my fists.
I punch him in the guts and keep on going 'til I can't feel my own arms. It's a miracle I'm able to get up and fight like this after losing all my oxygen, but this fucker won't manage because he's not as lean and buff as I am. His bulk fucks him over.
The primal thing tears out my throat. I'm hollering like a chimp with rabies as I beat the bastard blind, holding back from killing him only because I think about the same scandal that'll erupt if I put his ass in a coffin. I have to protect this club.
My lungs won't work. My heart's about to crack my ribs with its damned thunder. My muscles are gone, and there's just stones fixed to my bones, hard and unyielding.
I fall down next to Fat Boy, face-to-face, staring into his barely conscious eyes. “What the fuck did you wanna say to me? Before the fight?”
He growls. I land one more punch and his head lolls back. “Just fucking tell me. Do it.”
“Wanted to say it's me. I was gonna be the man to beat you. Ty...fucking...Sterner.” The last part's like a whisper.
He stops trying to get me off him and goes flat, his huge body softening beneath me. The referee comes over and starts slapping the ground, doing the final countdown.
Shit, shit. I roll off him and struggle to get up. I manage to hold myself in a push-up position with my exhausted arms, anything to keep this from going to a draw.
Slap-slap-slap. The ref's palm keeps hitting the floor, and I lose count.
I barely realize it when he's standing up, speaking into the mic. “Ladiiiies and gentleman! It's been hella close, but we have our winner. It's Ty Sterner. Always undefeated.” He pauses for a second, but adds one thing over the crowd's hurricane force scream. “Undefeatable.”
V: Undeniable (Claire)
I've never seen anything so brutal in twenty-two years on this earth.
Just a second ago, Ty's beautiful blue eyes were fading, winking out like dead stars. His head was turned my way all through the commotion, even when the man was on top of him, beating him senseless. I can't believe he saw me through the pain and the blinding spotlights, but his eyes were searching.
Searching for me.
Karl, the Swede, was laughing before, chuckling and slipping me drinks when the match started. He went dead silent as soon as Ty went down. I never knew hundreds of people jammed into the same small place could be so deathly quiet.
Everybody forgot to breathe until Ty pounced and began punching the big man like something possessed him. I sat glued to my seat¸ watching my step-brother with a whole new worry.
His eyes were different. They flashed crazy, angry murder, alive with the same ruthless energy in his fists. I watched him smash the other boxer to bits, and it scared the hell out of me.
I'm still afraid he's going to kill this guy and wind up in jail.
Obviously, I didn't have a clue what I'd gotten myself into. When Ty said fight and slipped me those tickets, torturing me every hour, I came because I couldn't resist. I couldn't lie and brush off the attraction, the fire threatening to burn me alive whenever I'm in his arms.
I expected something rowdy, clean, and civilized. I didn't expect to see men bloodied and brought to the brink of death.
Guess the tough guy thing isn't just an act, a rich son slapping his richer asshole dad in the face. No, the crap happening in front of me is as real as it is dangerous.
It should disgust me, send me running, prove that everything I've feared is totally right. But it doesn't.
I can't help but swoon when I realize he's won the fight. Karl climbs the seat next to me, screaming his lungs out. When he's finally done, he reaches into the cooler at his side, and passes me another wine cooler. I'm screaming too, even as I twist off the cap, yelling like a mad woman until Ty's finally out of sight, the attendants helping him off the stage.
I normally don't drink this much. Hell, I'm normally not this violent. I don't know what I am anymore, and I'm not sure I'll figure it out before I give into this throbbing urge to feel my step-brother's lips on mine.
I'm confused. There's something in the air tonight, something thick and sultry and otherworldly. I can't even describe it better than that.
“Hang tight with me, Claire,” Karl says. “We'll get into the bar much easier once we let the crowd clear out.”
He grabs my hand and makes me settle back into my chair. Probably a good thing. As soon as I stood up, my body rocked. I'm seriously tipsy, drunk like I haven't been since drinking with Dana.
I'm glad Karl's here to help. With this many drinks flying around, amping the crowd up alongside the testosterone and adrenaline, it might be dangerous going out there alone without all my wits.
I take a good, long look at the blonde haired man at my side. I've got to admit, he's kinda cute in a rogue way. He doesn't have the body Ty does, and the buff arms sticking out his sleeves don't have a single stripe of ink.
My mind's screaming through all the excitement. The big Swede's looking better with every new sip I take. Good enough to be my escape from throwing myself at my own step-brother, if I really want him to be.
I'm drunk, dizzy, and burning like never before. Honestly, I'm terrified of what I'll do when I'm alone with Ty again.
I can't really give into these insane urges, right? Jesus, I'll never live it down if I let him fuck me, if I let myself give away my virginity and my body to a fucking relative. No, we're not blood related, but he's technically my brother. That makes it wrong enough.
I have to keep my mind off the taboo. I just need to focus on having fun, treat it like any other girl's night out, maybe invest a little more energy in the handsome man at my side.
Except he's looking more and more like a disappointment with every step we take. I don't know what I'm going to do with Ty, but I know I don't really want his co-worker. Getting my V-card punched by a total stranger's worse than the asshole I know.
Karl flashes me a thick smile and grabs my wrist, this time a little more forcefully. “There's more waiting for us in the VIP lounge. We'll catch up with your brother later. Come on. Looks like it's all clear.”
I follow him down the winding path and then upstairs, evading a few drunken stragglers bobbing in the halls. We head back toward the closed room where I ran into Ty fucking those whores the first night we met. There's another door just before it, not far from the restrooms. Karl jerks me inside a smaller, darker room that feels like a grotto.
It's elegant, dimly lit, and the walls must be awfully thick. I can't hear a damned thing in here, not even the hundreds of people milling around in the lounge.
There's only one other couple in there with us. The look up, give us an uneasy look, and then return to their drinks and hushed conversat
ion.
Karl holds out an arm so I can pass by and take my seat at the small VIP bar. “What'll it be, Claire?”
“Something stronger than the wine coolers. We've still got like four or five hours until closing time, right?” He smiles and nods.
Yeah, I really want to drink tonight. It's either that or fuck my step-brother raw. Maybe a few drinks will help clear my head before I make the mother of all mistakes.
Karl lingers near the bottom shelf, as if he's showing off his backside. It's nice, but I've seen better. He comes up a minute later with a massive bottle of vodka and some pomegranate grenadine. He pours them together and shakes it up like a pro. His muscles ripple as he preps the drinks, and I'm all kinds of conflicted.
I grab mine a little too eagerly and knock it back. Karl laughs, pops the vodka bottle, and pours more into my glass straight. “Something tells me you don't need the sweet stuff.”
Staring like an idiot, I lean back and smile, tossing my hair. “I know how to put it back. Most valuable skill I learned in college.”
Actually, it's not far from the truth. I spent my last year drinking with friends just as hard as I studied, and I'm dangerously close to carrying the same habits into the grown up world.
It's been such a long week. Why not get a little plastered and spend some time here before I need to confront my damnably sexy step-brother?
Why not cut loose and stop worrying this confusion boiling my brain? God, why not find out if there's more to this blonde boy with the sexy accent besides a nice distraction from Ty?
I can't make up my mind. One minute, I wish he'd lay me down and fuck me before Ty does, and the next I'm steaming for nobody else but big brother.
God. What the hell is wrong with me?
I slam my empty glass on the counter. “Another.”
Karl laughs louder. His eyes are on my tits and I don't even care. He stares, not even hiding it, and I give my body a nice long stretch. It's refreshing to cut away from all the family drama, plus the new job.
This night isn't going like I expected. My head's so warm, burning up with alcohol now. I'm about to add some more fuel to the fire.
Two more shots, and everything whirls, melting into a blurry puddle of drunken goodness. I'm starting to worry why I haven't seen him yet. Ty was supposed to greet me shortly after the fight – does he even know we're back here?
My diligent bartender holds the bottle up again when my glass empties, but I put my hand up. “Where's Ty? Is he really going to be okay?”
“He's being checked over. We always have a medic standing by for these events in case anyone ends up seriously hurt. I think you understand, Claire, what we're doing here is risky, but we do everything we can to minimize the chances of any lasting injuries.”
He slams down his own drink. Grabbing the bottle, he steps out from behind the bar and takes the stool next to me – a little too close for comfort. Still, I give him a smile as he refills my glass. This time, he's not taking no for an answer, and neither is the pleasurable urge to drink more building in my head.
“Are the fights always so violent? I'm amazed he hasn't broken bones by now.” In fact, I'm wondering if an undiagnosed brain injury explains Ty's crude, impulsive behavior.
Karl tightens his lips and waves a hand, dashing my concerns. “No. The boss knows what he's doing. He's trained for years, and he doesn't slack on anything. I'm not sure why Fat Boy had the edge for a little while. That's never happened before. Tyler's mind has been somewhere else lately. He's not himself.”
Not himself. The Swede's words stop me cold. I remember how my step-brother stared at me while he was in the ring, his eyes blazing with a determination even fiercer than I'd seen when he was right in my face the other morning.
We were so close. I touched his rock hard torso, and I didn't want to stop.
Closer than any real brother and sister have any business being. It's suddenly cold in the lounge, or maybe the vodka's heat overloads my stomach. A shiver rolls off my back.
Karl's big arm goes around me and pulls me close. I'm so shocked my face almost hits the bar.
Okay, it's been fun fantasizing about him. He's obviously a safe and sane choice stacked up against Ty. But with my mind drifting back to the asshole who's the entire reason why I'm here at Club Zing tonight, I don't think I really want to sleep with Ty's underling.
I gently reach out and give his arm a push while I pull away. My other hand reaches for the vodka, just what I need to cover up the awkwardness. Ugh.
Okay, scratch those crazy thoughts about getting closer to this guy. I don't trust him. I kinda want to get up and go out on my own.
“I think I need to take off soon, Karl,” I say softly. “I need to find Ty.”
“What's the matter, lovely?” There's venom in his voice. “Don't you ever want to do anything besides talk about your brother?”
“I...I don't know.”
I really don't.
Karl laughs coldly. “Ah, you're quite a tease, aren't you? I've dealt with women like you before. I fucking know what you really want, princess. Let's go.”
Snarling, he grabs my wrist and pulls me off the bench. I'm too blitzed by the latest vodka pouring into my veins to fight back. Shit, I barely realize what's happening, only that my knees are moving on auto. I can't stop as he leads me through a metal door next to the private bar, into a chilly room stacked high with liquor crates.
I thought we were isolated before, but now? Not good.
The door clicks shut and he pushes me against the wall. I'm about to scream when his hand covers my mouth. His breath stinks. We lock eyes.
What the fuck's going on? Why's he gone all Jekyll and Hyde? I remember all the drinks he knocked down during the fight. The only time he even paused was when it looked like Ty would lose.
I've heard of mean drunks before, but I've never really seen one until now. He called me a tease too. Surely, he can't really believe I owe him something, much less sex?
I try to clear my mind and look at him, hoping I'm badly misjudging all this. But then he speaks, and the cruel tone in his voice confirms my nightmares.
“Don't bullshit me, girl. I know you're the reason he's losing it. Boss wants you bad. He can't focus. He's going to get us into trouble if this continues. Now, I see why you make him crazy. I see what a nasty little tease you are.” His free hand reaches down, and I sense him fumbling with his belt, or maybe the zipper to his jeans. “Let's make this fun. I'm going to give you the fuck you've been begging me for with your pretty eyes all evening. I'm not just doing it for our pleasure, Claire. This is doing the whole club a favor, everything Tyler's worked to build.”
He draws his hand off to finish dropping his jeans, and I'm too drunk to scream. My stomach rolls violently. I wonder if throwing up all over him will get me out of this, or if I've screwed up so bad my first time is going to be with this wasted maniac.
He shoves me against the wall again – this time harder. His hands go places. There's no pleasure, only sickness, pain when he squeezes my nipple. My mind tosses and churns between hate and horror.
I feel him everywhere – on my breasts, around my back, cupping my ass, between my legs. I moan, and he mistakes it for pleasure, but really I'm crying for help. I'm sick to death. Scared.
I'm about to black out when the door snaps open and a wild animal comes crashing into the room.
Or that's what I think, at first, in my fucked up state.
Next thing I know, I'm backed into a corner, watching the screaming men at my feet. The bigger one completely covers Karl and holds him on the ground, flattening him while his fists go at the Swede's face. I recognize the wavy tattoos flowing down his shirtless back instantly.
Ty.
“You sneaky sonofabitch!” My brother's voice explodes, and several wine bottles break in the commotion, falling onto the floor from the impact of his fists. “Did I fucking tell you to touch her? You were supposed to be the one asshole in this place I could trus
t not to make a move!”
His voice is slurred from the beating during the fight, but he takes Karl easily because he's sober. Ty doesn't give him a chance to answer. His fists keep coming down, this time without any gloves. There's nothing between the Swede's face and my step-brother's bloody knuckles.
Karl moans, tries to sit up and plead, tell him it's all a big misunderstanding. Ty pushes him right back down.
It's worse than watching the fight. There's no referee here, nothing to save the bastard who tried to force himself on me from Ty's righteous blows. My heart flips.
I'm drunk, but I know he did wrong. I want him to pay for it – suffer for what he would've done. But then I hear the sickening snap as his nose fractures, and I think I'm going to be sick.
“Ty...” I whimper meekly. It doesn't get through.
He grabs Karl by the collar and hoists him up, but only for a second before smashing him down on the hard floor again. “Pick your sorry ass up and get the fuck out! You're done here. Drag your fucking carcass back to Europe, and I won't press charges. It's not a choice. I'll make sure you never work in this goddamned city again!”
His voice rumbles low, booming, savage. Scarcely human. I don't try to squeak out another word, even if I want to.
“No, no, no, boss,” Karl blubbers. “She's a tease. She brought me here. Boss, please! Boss!”
I cover my face with one hand. Fuck it. He deserves everything the mad dog protecting me wants to give him.
Karl never gets out another word. Ty picks him up and drags him across the room, through a narrow space formed by boxes stacked to the ceiling. A door I hadn't seen before swings open in the back. I catch a glimpse of some loading docks, and that's where Ty throws his manager.
Well, former manager. The door slams shut while the man is still screaming, and he whirls around.
Now, I'm face to face with the devil himself. But if he's a devil, then Satan has the coolest, most beautiful blue eyes anyone can imagine.
I feel like I'm facing a firing squad. Only, instead of catching a bullet, I'm going to catch nothing but pure hell, or else a twisted ache between my legs.
