Something Fierce [The Underground 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Jenika Snow

  Kash stood in front of Jackson, his stance the complete opposite of his opponent. His back was to her now and the dark swirls and lines of his tattoo made him seem even more menacing. Women beside her swooned and cheered for him, making crude comments about what else might be tattooed. She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell just from his body language that he was calm, like the weather right before a storm. When her mind started putting the facts together, it all made sense. The late-night job, the intensity about him, the way he knew how to throw a punch. Although seeing him here was somewhat of a surprise, Tristan wasn’t shocked. A part of her brain had considered this was where she would find him. She had thought she saw him duck behind that door after all, and seeing him here, in the flesh, mere feet from her, Tristan knew that she had seen correctly.

  So many questions slammed into her mind, questions that she doubted Kash would be willing to answer. As she watched with rapt attention the two men so close, yet so far away, she suddenly felt very nervous. In her heart she knew she had nothing to fear. Kash had proven himself an experienced fighter when he had taken Max on, but Jackson was not Max. Jackson knew what he was doing, had trained for this. The dark, controlled look on Jackson’s countenance put the fear of God into her.

  Jackson cracked his knuckles and started bouncing on the balls of his feet again, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Kash. She could see Jackson’s lips moving, but with all the noise she had no idea what he said. Was he goading Kash? If Jackson was smart he wouldn’t dare. Tristan had seen firsthand the wrath that was Kash, but as she looked around at all the screaming people, she had a feeling they had seen it, too.

  How many times did he do this a week? Was he getting into fights every time he was away, or was he training? She should have turned and left, because heaven knew she honestly didn’t want to see this, especially if Kash got hurt, but her feet stayed cemented.

  “Quiet down, you heathens.” The announcer’s voice boomed around her once again and everyone somewhat quieted. “The rules are simple. There are none.” The crowd erupted and Tristan winced at the noise. The two fighters stayed locked, not moving. Hell, she didn’t even think they breathed. There was no bell being rung like in boxing to let the fighters know it was time. After the announcer said that last word, they went after each other. Jackson was smaller than Kash, in stature and weight, but he was quick, damn quick. While Jackson bounced around, his fists up, Kash just stood there, looking calm. He had since shifted and Tristan could now see his face. Stone-cold concentration marred his expression. She was taken aback by how handsome he was.

  Jackson lunged for Kash, bringing his fist toward his face in hope of getting a punch in. Kash anticipated the move and stepped out of the way. Jackson turned around quickly and started swinging. It was like Kash knew his moves. He successfully blocked each one, and slammed his own fist into the young man’s face, side, kidneys, anywhere and everywhere. Blood started to pour out of Jackson’s nose from Kash’s last hit, yet the man she shared her home with seemed unfazed.

  How long has he been doing this that he doesn’t even react to the blood and violence?

  Back and forth they danced a dangerous tango, and Tristan could see Jackson’s form starting to waver. This fighting wasn’t like the UFC she had seen a few times on TV. This was so much more raw and unhinged. Jackson’s moves were sloppy and uncoordinated, and he was starting to sway on his feet. His fists connected with the air more times than not, and she knew he wouldn’t make it much longer. Blood poured from his nose and mouth, and a nasty black eye was forming. He looked like someone had beat the shit out of him and he was hanging on by a thread. In the distance, amidst the yells and shouts, Tristan could hear his girlfriend shouting for him, encouraging him. Tristan could only shake her head. She didn’t know much about fighting, but Jackson was not going to win. That was painfully clear.

  Everything seemed to slow at what she knew were the final seconds. Kash took a step back, reared his heavily muscled arm, and brought his fist to the side of Jackson’s face. The young man spun before slamming face-first onto the ground. Blood splattered out of his mouth and coated the mat like a grisly murder scene. Oh my God. Was he alive? Did she just witness Kash kill someone? Cold dread settled within her as she stared at Jackson and then looked back at Kash. Blood coated his chest, but she knew it wasn’t his. He didn’t have one mark on him. She turned her attention back to Jackson and saw several people checking his pulse and then rolling him over. They started applying ice and a compression to his face and she knew he would be all right. His girlfriend ran into the cage and no one stopped her. Tears streamed down her face as she ran her hands over his body.

  Tristan let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding it in. When her eyes went back to Kash she was startled by his expression. Although he wasn’t looking at anyone or anything in particular, she could see the cold detachment on his face. A minute passed and then he took the back of his hand and ran it over his check, smearing the blood that had splattered there.

  A man with a wide grin came up to him and handed him a thickly padded envelope and slammed him on the back. Tristan wasn’t a fool. She knew that was his winnings. He had a wad of cash from almost killing someone. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling light-headed. His expression as he stared at the money, at Jackson, and the crowd was something akin to heartlessness. It didn’t seem like him, not the man that she watched movies with, not the man she laughed with, not the man she so desperately desired. A wave of arousal slammed into her so hard she sucked in a lungful of air. She had to get out of here. This wasn’t right, he wasn’t right, and her desire most certainly wasn’t right.

  Turning on her heel, she started shoving people out of her way. Tristan gasped for air, suddenly feeling so claustrophobic. A hand on her arm stopped her and she stared into a pair of drunken black eyes.

  “Hey, baby. The fight’s over, but if you’re still up for a little fun—” He waggled his eyebrows and a wave of disgust slammed into her.

  She shook her head and yanked her arm so hard out of his grasp he stumbled back and spilled his beer. A cloud of anger slashed across his face as he looked at the beer that coated his shoes.

  “You fucking bitch.” He took a step toward her, but before he could touch her a hand locked on his shoulder and tossed him effortlessly to the ground.

  Steeling herself, Tristan turned her gaze to whoever stood beside her. She knew who it was even before she locked her gaze onto dark green eyes. Her breath sawed in and out of her, and she took in his appearance. Up close he was frightening. The blood, the sweat, all of it solidified her fear, her need to escape, but most of all her arousal.

  “What in the hell are you doing here, Tristan?” Kash’s voice was low, almost deadly. He looked around the room and shook his head. He placed his hand against her arm but she yanked it back. She was too frightened of what was happening. She shouldn’t want him like this, covered in crimson, smelling incredibly good, and looking like he could take her right there, in front of everyone.

  “Tristan.”

  The way he said her name, low, heated, full of confusion and need, did wicked things to her body. Disgust with herself slammed into her. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. What sane person ached for a man covered in blood? Before she could say anything, two large-bosomed females sidled up to Kash. They ran their hands along his bare arms and over his chest. Their hands encountered the blood and one of the females made a face of disgust while the other only had eyes for Kash. As he stared down at her, Tristan thought she might have seen a wave of sympathy or sorrow, but she had to be imagining it. The man before her was like steel, hard, unmoving, and certainly knowing nothing of uncertainty. He still had yet to acknowledge the women on either side of him.

  “Tristan.”

  He could say her name all he wanted to. She didn’t want to hear it. All she wanted was to get the hell out of there. As swarms of people came up to him, commenting on the fight and congratulating hi
m, Tristan darted away, through the crowd, and up the stairs. She ran like he was chasing her, yet she knew he had let her go. Oh God. How could she do this? She couldn’t tell Kylie, could she? Did her best friend already know? Did it even matter? Conflicting emotions washed through her. She wanted him, he disgusted her, she feared his power, she needed that power dominating her. Get a fucking grip!

  * * * *

  It took everything in Kash not to chase after Tristan. Despite the people starting to swarm around him, congratulating him on the fight, Kash could have easily pushed them away to get to her. Damn! What in the hell is she doing here?

  He wanted to go to her, to explain what she had just seen, but he knew right now she needed space.

  “Dude, you are a fucking beast in the cage!” A twentysomething man patted Kash on the back, his drunken, slurred words grating on his nerves. He shook the man’s hand off, his anger mounting. He should have told her that he fought, should have said something earlier. Damnit all to hell, he hadn’t thought she would ever find out. He was pissed that she had put herself in danger to begin with. Going to these fights put her in a position that Kash didn’t like. The crowds, the drinking, the fighting, all of that combined was enough to hurt someone, and not if they were in the cage. He had to throw some dickweed off of her. Hell, what if he hadn’t seen her, hadn’t gotten to her in time? It would have been a repeat performance. This was his fault and he needed to rectify it.

  He couldn’t go out the main doors, not covered in blood. The risk of compromising the Underground community was too great. There were just too many people in the main part of the club, too many that didn’t know what happened right below their feet. The cops would surely be called and then hell would rain down on his head.

  Pushing people out of his way, Kash headed toward the back exit. There was a set of stairs that led to a door on the side of the club, one that came out in an alley. Several people tried to stop him, especially women that wanted a piece of him. It was the same routine every night, and although he had enjoyed the lustful advances from many women in the past, the only thing on his mind was getting to Tristan. She was all that mattered, and that revelation scared the shit out of him.

  * * * *

  Once she was back on the main floor she weaved through the bodies and ran up to the VIP section. Kylie was adamantly talking to the bouncer, and when she saw Tristan a wave of relief washed over her face. She ran up to her, grabbed her arms, and shook the life out of Tristan.

  “What the hell happened? Where were you?”

  Tristan could see genuine fear reflected in Kylie’s eyes and she felt guilty for causing that worry. Tristan finally allowed herself to take a deep breath. What the hell was she supposed to say? Could she really tell Kylie? A part of her didn’t want to cause problems for Kash, but a part of her knew what he was doing was wrong. Who made a living from hurting people?

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to worry you.” She gave Kylie a reassuring smile but knew the action fell short. “I got sidetracked in the bathroom, then ran into some girl that talked my ear off about her boyfriend.” Not a lie, but also not the truth. She shook her head again, feeling like shit for scaring Kylie. Tristan knew how worried her friend had been since the incident, and she hadn’t even thought twice about what her sudden disappearance would do to her.

  Kylie stared at her for several long seconds and then relaxed her shoulders. “I’m just glad you are okay. I was about to send the Hulk out there looking for you.” She gestured with her thumb to the bouncer.

  Tristan smiled in gratitude. “I think I’ve had enough for one night.”

  “Me, too.” Kylie grabbed her purse and her coat.

  Tristan didn’t bother arguing with Kylie to stay. It wouldn’t have made a difference in the long run. No one could talk Kylie out of anything. After saying good-bye and apologizing to the bachelorette party, the two of them hailed a cab and headed back home. She just wanted to forget about this night, but she knew that was never going to happen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tristan shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Before Tristan had gotten out of Kylie’s car, her friend had been adamant about coming in and talking because she knew something was wrong. She had respectfully declined, knowing she needed a moment alone to process everything. Tristan was never good at hiding the truth from her, but she just didn’t want to talk about it. Over and over she asked herself what she was really upset about. Was it that Kash hurt people for a living or that she found herself immensely aroused because of that? The rational part of her brain tried to tell her it wasn’t like he was hurting innocent people. The men he fought signed up for it. Right now she could see Jackson’s excited face as he anticipated the fight. He had craved it for sure.

  She pushed herself away from the door and went into the kitchen. Drinking probably wasn’t the best thing to do at the moment, but her body was near to shaking with the revelations and emotions sweeping through her. Opening the freezer, she dug around until she found the bottle of whiskey she had shoved back there ages ago. With a shot glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, Tristan poured herself a drink. Without thinking, just acting, she threw the drink back and breathed out. It was like fire down her throat, but the pain felt good. It distracted her from other things. She repeated the process again and again until she felt a warm burn start to flow through her veins. She was on her fourth or maybe her fifth when she heard the front door open and close. She closed her eyes. She really didn’t want to do this with Kylie right now. When she turned around to tell her friend everything was fine, she felt her eyes widen and her mouth go dry. The person standing in the entryway was not Kylie.

  Kash’s expression as he regarded her was stoic. He was no longer shirtless, but he might as well have been since the white tee he wore did nothing to hide his body. She roamed her gaze over his face and cringed when she saw traces of blood. A flicker of emotion crossed his face but he was good at hiding it the next second. Had he seen her cringe or was he reliving what happened just a few hours ago? With her hand still tightly wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle, she wished she would have finished off the whole thing. Blissful intoxication would have been preferable to the slow buzz that didn’t seem to make reality tolerable. Even after everything she saw, the blood, the carnage, the pain, Tristan wanted him desperately. Her pussy was near soaked with her need for him. Maybe it was her own arousal rising up and not the alcohol? Maybe her body was tired of the feelings and needs she pushed so far inside of her that it rebelled with Kash so near?

  Even at a distance she saw him swallow. His Adam’s apple worked beneath his tanned flesh, and she found herself leaning forward, as if her body didn’t want to listen to her mind. Her gaze was riveted to the sight of his corded neck working up and down. Throb, pulse, tingle. Her clit had a mind of its own. The shirt she wore was impossibly thin, and despite the fact she wore a bra, she knew if he really wanted to look he would be able to see her nipples stabbing through. The death grip she had on the bottle seemed to ground her, but she forced her fingers away from the bottle that was now warmed from her hand and dropped her arm to her side. What could she say? Oh, a million different things slammed into her mind, but none of that seemed to matter at that moment.

  As if he thought the same thing, they both took a step forward. He was visibly breathing hard, the same as her. His chest rose and fell the closer they got to one another. When they were mere inches from one another, Tristan looked deep into his eyes. The same intense and raw passion was reflected back. Would he stop this again? She hoped not because if it came down to it she didn’t know if she would be able to stop. She knew she wouldn’t be below begging him.

  Take me now.

  Kash gripped the back of her neck, as if her silent command had somehow been ripped from her. The warm, big hand he placed on her nape was a wake-up call to the fact that this was really happening. He pulled her forward and pressed his mouth against hers. Had she spoke
n aloud? It didn’t matter anymore because the feel of his lips on hers, moving rough, hard, and demanding, had every rational thought leaving her brain. The way he held her, kissed her, made her feel wholly feminine and possessed. She felt the heat, the need in his touch as well as the way he ran his tongue along the inside of her mouth. She was helpless to stop it.

  His other hand pressed against her lower back and she gasped from the searing heat of that lone touch. When he pulled her closer, she groaned when his erection pressed against her belly. They were both frantic with their need and when he broke the kiss to remove her top and then her bottoms she didn’t stop him. Once the material was removed their mouths latched back together. Eyes closed, body lost in feeling, Tristan brought her hands to the front of his jeans and fumbled with the button. She couldn’t think clearly and her fingers were numb with pleasure. Thankfully Kash covered her hands with one of his and released the button. His erection pressed demandingly against the denim and all she could think about was what it would feel like in her hand. Mouth still latched in a demanding kiss, Kash backed her into the kitchen table with his body. Never removing his lips from hers, Tristan was vaguely aware of the sound of his zipper being brought down and material rustling. After a second that seemed to last ages, Tristan felt the scorching-hot length of him press into her belly. A groan ripped from her.

  She clawed at his chest as his hand landed on her breast. Her bra still covered the mounds and she desperately wanted the offending fabric gone. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, feel his strength against her softness. She pushed his shirt up almost frantically and once again their kiss broke apart for a split second. The air whooshed out of her when she glanced down at his exposed chest. Blood, now dried, still covered parts of his chest, mingling with the black ink of his tattoo. Disgust wasn’t the first feeling she had when she saw it. Raw, unadulterated lust was what reared its potent head. When their eyes locked, she thought she saw a moment of hesitation reflected in his green depths, but just as quickly as it had appeared it was replaced by a dark mask.