Savage: A Bad Boy Fighter Romance

by Isabella Starling

  “Welcome to the Dungeons, sweet thing,” Wilson tells me with a grin.

  I feel like a trapped animal, glancing around to try and figure a way out of this place.

  “You’re going to love it here.”

  He walks up to the row of men lined up in front of the wall, stating their names as he pokes them between the ribs. I see several guys snarling at him, barely able to hold back their rage as he pokes them like that. But I also notice none of them make a move to stop him from doing it.

  My eyes wander down the line of soldiers as Wilson tells me their names.

  Snake.

  Monster.

  Killer.

  Their names ring true in my head as I picture all the ways they could hurt someone. I hope that isn’t what I’m here for, but between their hungry eyes and Wilson’s self-assured gaze I’m already certain I’m not going to like this one way or another.

  I focus on the faces of the men. They all look the same to me. Close-cropped hair, strong, almost grotesquely muscular bodies. Their eyes are cold and lifeless. They all look the same for me.

  All their gazes are hungry, desperate and - the worst of them all - careless. They don’t give a shit about what happens down here. They have other things to worry about.

  And then finally, I come to a stop.

  There is a pair of eyes that stands out.

  Not because it isn’t hungry.

  Not because it doesn’t look like he’s going to spring out and savagely bite into my skin at any given moment.

  No. There is something else in his eyes, but it’s not compassion, or concern. There is pain.

  And that is something I’ve become very familiar with in the past week or so.

  I recognize it. I live it. I feel it.

  I drink his eyes in. Dark and stormy, grey and blue. Dangerous and promising. Making me shiver and making me clench my pussy at the same time. I stare at him for a long time before I look at the rest of the man.

  He is, in a way, just like the rest of them. Muscular. Tall. Broad shouldered. He is painfully handsome, his scars, tattoos and bruises only adding to his appeal. His lips are full, his nose broken in several places, but somehow that suits him. He looks like murder, he looks like he tastes like blood.

  I lick my lips as I drink him in, only realizing what I’m doing a moment too late. By that time, Wilson has reached the man I’ve fixated on, and jabbed him in the ribs.

  “Angel,” he says with a grin, looking at me.

  Seeing the expression on my face makes him stop for a second, his finger jammed into the man’s side.

  “Ooh, my sweet thing likes this one, doesn’t she?”

  I blush deeply, averting my gaze. I’m cursing myself inwardly for showing him anything that he could use against me as he approaches me, his eyes boring into mine.

  “I think we’re going to have fun down here, sweet thing,” he tells me, his voice low. “Do you know what’s going on in the dungeons, or are you too old to play guessing games now?”

  He tips my chin back with his finger, obviously getting off on the look of fear in my eyes.

  “Three strikes and you’re out,” he growls in my face.

  I refuse to answer, keeping my eyes trained on his. I don’t look at Angel either, even though I assume he is the most human out of everyone down here. If there’s anyone who could save me from this hellhole, it would probably be him. I don’t think he cares, though, and why would he - I’m just a girl, and he’s a trained killing machine.

  “Sweet thing doesn’t want to play!” Cobb lets go off my face roughly and I rub my left cheek, still feeling the searing touch of his fingers on my skin.

  “Well, let me make it easy for you, then,” he continues, walking back up to the row of soldiers.

  He grabs one of them by the cheeks like he’s a prized animal, ready to be bought. The way he treats other human beings disgusts me, and the urge to smack that grin off his face is back in full force.

  “These are my men, and they fight every night in the ring to make me money.”

  Cobb is talking about it proudly, almost like he owns a bunch of racing horses. Fucking disgusting. His complete disregard for humanity makes my skin crawl.

  “Every night, there is a fight down here,” Cobb continues. “Every night, there is a winner, and every night, someone dies. And every night, I make a lot of money.”

  He chuckles to himself as if he just told us the joke of a century, and once again, I feel bile rising in my throat. I glance towards Angel.

  He looks… troubled. Like there’s something bothering him and he wants to fix it badly, but he also knows he’s not supposed to break the rules and do it. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here any more than I do, but his motivations seem different. I can’t quite figure out why a man like him would be down here.

  Why did you bring me down here?” I ask Cobb. “I don’t understand what I have anything to do with your disgusting business.”

  “Oh, you’re about to find out very soon,” Cobb smiles at me.

  He steps back over to Angel, letting go of the other guy. He inspects him closely before asking him a question. Not really asking, more like barking it at him.

  “What do my fighters get when they win?” he asks.

  Angel’s eyes connect with mine again and I take a deep breath. I don’t think I want to know.

  “We…” His voice is deep and strong. It makes me feel protected, even though I assume his words will be the complete opposite of the feeling he evokes from me. “We get rewarded.”

  “How?” Cobb’s question is more of an order.

  “We…” Angel’s eyes linger on mine, and I see that sliver of pain in them again.

  I wonder if Cobb’s responsible for putting it there.

  “We get girls to mess around with,” Angel finally says.

  “That’s right!” Cobb sounds ecstatic, once again reminding me of a lunatic circus leader.

  All he’s missing is a hat. I assume he already has a whip, and he’s not afraid of putting it to good use.

  “The winner gets a prize. And we’re going to have a very special prize, and a very special winner this time around,” he announces in that half-maniacal tone of his.

  “We’re going to have a tournament. Winner takes all. We will choose one man to represent me, and the rest of the fighters will come from other... establishments.”

  He gets all up in Angel’s face, grinning that wicked smile.

  “Can you tell me what the grand prize is going to be?”

  Angel hesitates for a moment and I look at them both with confusion in my eyes. Then, slowly, it starts to dawn on me.

  He’s talking about giving away women as prizes to these fighters, God knows what for. And he brought me down here…

  My stomach churns as I realize he’s going to give my mother to these monsters. He’s going to let them have their way with her, and after my father’s passing, I know it’s going to break her.

  “No,” I manage to whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

  Cobb looks at me with genuine curiosity. He leaves Angel’s side and comes stand closer to me.

  “Do what? I’m not doing anything at all. This is all you. This is all your fault.”

  “You can’t let them have my mother,” I manage to get out. “They’re going to destroy her.”

  Cobb looks at me for a long moment before erupting in laughter. He’s grinning as he faces me, gently stroking my cheek. His touch makes me want to scrub my skin raw.

  “Oh, but sweet thing,” he says in that syrupy voice.

  “I’m not giving them your mother. I’m giving them you. You shouldn’t have tested me... No one fucking messes with Wilson Cobb.”

  He turns back towards the soldiers, stepping to my left side.

  “Players, I give you your prize in the tournament. Adrienne Hanson. Whoever wins gets to do whatever the fuck he wants with her, and I know she hasn’t done much. More fun for you to break in.”
<
br />   I can only stare at the men in front of me. Some of their faces are consumed by desire, something like hunger, and the worst one of them all, blood lust. My eyes finally land on Angel’s, turmoil swirling in me.

  I see even more pain in his eyes than I did before. I see he wants to lunge forward and punch Cobb, but the fact that he doesn’t speaks for itself.

  I start to feel light-headed as the men looking at me. I feel like they’re advancing on me now, the whole room dancing in front of my eyes. I think I’m going to be violently sick, but instead of throwing up my last meal on the cold, grimy dungeon floor, my vision goes spotty and I into a heap.

  Everything goes dark, and the last thing on my mind are Angel’s stormy grey-blue eyes.

  I come to, cradled in someone’s arms. The fact that they don’t instantly make me feel disgusted makes me think they don’t belong to Cobb, and as I slowly reclaim my senses, I look up through blurry eyes. Once again, my gaze connects with the stormy grey-blues I’ve come to know in the past hour or so.

  “Angel,” I murmur. “You’re Angel.”

  He scowls at me and I close my eyes, too tired to understand what’s going on. I hear voices following us, and Angel is carrying me somewhere - I hope somewhere far away from Cobb. Of course, that fantasy dies a quick death when I hear Cobb’s voice joining in with the others.

  “Put her down on the bed in her room,” he barks. “She’ll come to any moment now. I don’t want you fucking around here when she comes back.”

  Angel grunts something in response, and I hear doors opening, after which I’m set down on a soft, downy surface. I open my eyes only a little, stealing one last look at the shirtless man who carried me up here. He looks like a monster come to life, but there is a kindness to him that makes me want to dig through the layers of filth and anger to discover his true self.

  He smells like blood and sweat and something so incredibly masculine that I can’t help but drink it in.

  “Thank you,” I mutter sleepily.

  He only stares at me for a moment before retreating from my room. The cloying presence in the air suggests I’m not alone, and I open my hazy eyes to find Cobb standing at the foot of my bed.

  “Rest well,” he tells me with his signature smirk. “Enjoy your days of freedom. There won’t be many of those in your future.”

  Four

  Memphis

  I can’t get her out of my head.

  The whole way back to my room, I’m deep in thought, trying to memorize every little bit about that girl. Adrienne. Even her name is fucking gorgeous.

  I haven’t seen anything, anyone, like her since I came down here. I’ve had someone like her in my arms even less. Since I gave my life to Wilson, I have sort of been convinced that there’s no place for beauty in this world. And yet there she was, standing like a goddess in the middle of darkness, lighting up the whole place.

  “Memphis,” Sage calls, making me screech to a halt.

  I almost walked past my room.

  He gives me a look and I shrug my shoulders.

  “Must be the fight,” I say nonchalantly, offering him one of my trademark smirks.

  “Sure. It’s not like you came in here with everything alright in that thick head of yours,” Sage mutters in response, already unlocking the locks.

  As soon as he throws the door open, Sabrina comes flying out like a torpedo, clinging to me. She practically climbs me, fluttering butterfly kisses on my neck and shoulders because that’s as high as she can reach, even teetering on her hooker heels.

  She’s dressed in one of those tiny little skirts that leaves nothing to the imagination – though she has great legs, I’ll give her that – and a tank top that and a push-up bra that shoves her tits way out ahead of her.

  Usually, I’m all for that kind of stuff. But today? Hell, I suddenly feel like I’m getting kissed by a hooker… Which, again, never usually bothers me.

  Compared to having had Adrienne in my arms just a few minutes ago, Sabrina feels dirty in a way, and I for touching her.

  Gently, I peel her off of me, putting my hands on her shoulders and then turning her to face away from me. She giggles like the ditz that she is.

  “I thought you’d never come back,” she says, sighing wistfully as she does so. “I missed you so much! But I’m all ready for you, if you know what I mean…”

  The smell of wet pussy hits me right in the nose and for the tiniest moment, I regret what I’m about to do.

  I push her towards Sage and step into my room without taking a look back. As I slam the door shut behind me, I hear Sabrina gasping, obviously hurt.

  “Not today,” I yell through the door.

  Sabrina launches into a volley of questions, her voice getting higher with each syllable. Good thing I can barely make out what she’s saying. The locks on my door clatter shut a second later to my great relief and then footsteps move further, Sabrina still arguing and whining.

  I sit down on the edge of my bed, almost feeling like I’ve come full circle.

  I scuff my hand through my hair before I lean back again, visions of sweet little Adrienne dancing in my mind. And not only her, but what Wilson told us as well. I’ve been here for a long enough time to know how things run, but tournaments are a rarity even for me.

  I’ve fought in a few, winning the ones I was entered in – being undefeated comes with certain boons, after all, like not being dead – but they’ve never been of this size. The way Wilson’s eyes hovered on me for most of his speech tells me that he knows what I know – I’m four wins away from being set free, according to our contract. If I win this tournament, I’m done.

  Alternatively, if I lose, I’m dead.

  I’m getting out one way or another.

  But now, I could have Adrienne too.

  I don’t know what it is about her that caught me so hard. Maybe it’s the sweet face, or the way she glanced around like a lamb being led to slaughter. She obviously doesn’t believe in this kind of existence and unlike the Sabrinas in the world, she would never be behind my door, begging to suck my cock because I’m a big man in the ring.

  No, earning the trust and the heart of a woman like that… well, that’s something I don’t think I’m built for. There’s not a kind, good bone in my body, despite my ridiculous nickname.

  I’m no angel.

  I close my eyes and her face and heavenly body come back to me immediately, how she felt so soft and delicate against my chest as I carried here. Those delicious curves, those perky, young breasts… those lips.

  Slowly, as if not thinking about it at all, I glide my right hand down my abs and under the band of my compression shorts, shucking them off as I lift my hips slightly. My palm slides along the shaft of my cock, already getting hard in my palm. My fingers are rough as I close my grip around my cock, my fingertips crossing only slightly.

  That’s why Sabrina likes me so much. She can barely get past the head before she’s gagging and drooling, her eyes rolling back in her head.

  But this time, I’m not thinking about Sabrina, or any of those other sluts. No, I’m thinking about Adrienne, how it would feel to claim someone so pure and good.

  I can imagine her tongue licking up the sides of my shaft, hesitantly at first, slowly moving up to taste me. When her tongue laps over the head in my imagination, tracing the slit, I let out a low groan, starting to move my hand up and down faster, gripping myself hard. I can see the little gasp of surprise so clearly when she tastes precum for the first time, the salty taste spreading on her tongue, making her want more.

  I swirl my thumb over my head, flicking over the sensitive skin a few times, and then jerk myself hard and fast. In my imagination, Adrienne’s on her knees, one hand between her legs, playing with that sweet pussy, while looking up at me with those bright eyes of hers. Wanting to please me, to serve me, to do anything I want her to do…

  Her head bobbing up and down on my cock, coating it with saliva, matches the rhythm of my hand perfectly,
and I let out a strangled moan as I imagine her whimpering as I slam into the back of her throat, filling her up. She shudders and I do too, wanting nothing more than to empty my seed into her thankful mouth.

  When I cum, I let out a growl, a deep, rumbling sound from the back of my throat. It takes me a few minutes to come out of the intoxicating mental image of Adrienne lapping my seed up, swallowing it like the sweet little thing that she is. I’d put her on her back then and eat her out like she deserves after that.

  And I’d do a hell of a lot more than that for her, too.

  Finally, I open my eyes, finding myself in the grey, depressing pit of a room again, with no Adrienne to lift up and cuddle up in my arms, but jizz drying on my hand and thigh.

  I could have had Sabrina here, cleaning me up and begging for more. And yet, for some reason, I can’t stop grinning, thinking about the vision that has been allowed into the darkness of my life to bring some light and warmth into it.

  I’ll win you, Adrienne. I promise you that.

  The next days go by fast. We have practice matches every day, a mini-tournament of our own to decide who will be representing Wilson in this bullshit competition. Despite my injuries, I win easy enough. I don’t know if it’s the lack of general desire to be killed by the brutes that the other mob bosses are sure to bring in, or if I’m just that good, but it feels like walking through a damn field of daisies.

  All of my opponents go down fast and hard, dropping like flies. I come out of the whole thing with one tooth slightly looser than it should be, and a couple of new bruises, but nothing to really worry me past that.

  Through it all, I have Adrienne on my mind. I can’t shake her. Her scared, hurt face comes to me every time I fight, and every time I walk out of the ring victorious. It feels like I have something to fight for, for the first time in a long time, and it feels fucking good.

  Just the thought of allowing anyone else to have her sends me into a blind rage, which admittedly has come in damn handy during the matches.

  I hear a knock on my door after returning from the last match. I frown, but then my expression clears as the locks are undone and Sage lets in Hannah, who looks as apologetic as ever as she carries in the bucket of ice water I hadn’t even noticed was missing.