His Wrath: Underground, 2

by Jenika Snow

  His Wrath

  Underground, 2

  Jenika Snow

  HIS WRATH (Underground, 2)

  By Jenika Snow

  www.JenikaSnow.com

  Jenika_Snow@Yahoo.com

  Copyright © August 2018 by Jenika Snow

  First E-book Publication: April 2013

  Photographer: Wander Aguiar :: Photography

  Cover Model: Shane Mac

  Model image provided by: Wander Book Club

  * * *

  Editor: Kasi Alexander

  Line Editor: Lea Ann Schafer

  * * *

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.

  Contents

  Newsletter

  The Underground Series

  His Wrath

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Out Now: The Wolf’s Capture

  The Wolf’s Capture

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Newsletter

  Want to know when Jenika has book related news, and giveaways, and free books?

  * * *

  You can get all of that and more by following the link below!

  Sign Up Here: http://eepurl.com/ce7yS-/

  The Underground Series

  Something Fierce

  His Wrath

  Deeper: coming soon

  Brea Collins's past kept resurfacing no matter how hard she tried to outrun it. When she finally settled in a small town, working at a club to save enough for what she hoped was her final escape, she never expected to meet Adrian Holden, a man who made her feel something other than fear.

  Adrian's life has been far from a fairy tale. He fought in the Underground, an illegal cage fighting organization housed below an up-and-coming nightclub. It was his anger and grief that fueled him, that made him the barbarian he was.

  When he saw Brea, she called out to every protective, possessive instinct in him.

  But their happiness could only last so long.

  With two traumatic pasts and an uncertain future, there was bound to be something that drove them apart. But Adrian was determined to have Brea at all costs, and he would do everything in his power to ensure that, even if it meant raw knuckles and bodies at his feet.

  * * *

  Warning: Please note there may be sensitive content that triggers readers. Previously published under the title Adrian’s Wrath, this story has been revised, re-edited, and new content has been added.

  1

  Adrian threw another shot back and stared ahead. The club was packed, as usual, but he was impervious to all that happened around him. His thoughts were too raw, too real. He needed to drink tonight away and just be somewhere else, at a different time, not stuck in the fucking past.

  “Another.” He slid the empty shot glass across the counter. The bartender grabbed the whiskey and gave him a refill. This was his fourth shot, and Adrian had no intention of stopping. Maybe he could get drunk enough to forget about tonight, to forget about everything he’d lost.

  Through the mirror lining the back of the bar, Adrian could see her before she even sidled up to him. Her platinum-blonde hair was in need of a new dye job, and her lips were covered in this coral-red shade that reminded him of a clown.

  He slammed the glass on the counter for another drink, and it was refilled right away. She stood beside him now, her perfume overpowering as she “accidentally” bumped into him. They were all the same. They all thought they were someone special, that they had the pussy of the century.

  To Adrian they were not something he’d allow himself to get lost in.

  He drank the shot, loving how the burn from the alcohol had since diminished and all he felt was numbness.

  “I’m sorry. Can I just grab one of these?” Her ploy to get his attention wasn’t lost on him, but he wasn’t interested. He could have told her as much and saved her the time of trying to get in his pants, but right now his mind was blank, the alcohol making nothing really matter.

  Of course that had been the point.

  When she leaned across the counter, practically sitting on his lap to get a napkin, of all things, he could see her nipples poking through the thin material of her top. All it did was make him feel disgust.

  “Not interested,” he said without looking at her. Thankfully she didn’t argue, didn’t try and push herself on him even more.

  The club was popping despite the fact it was a Wednesday night. Fighting was the only outlet that helped to relieve the pain, anger, and all-out hatred he felt on a constant basis.

  Closing his eyes, he exhaled. He was tired, so fucking tired of the daily repetition that was his life. With his eyes still closed, his senses became heightened. He felt the vibrations of the music, smelled the overpoweringly cloying scent of sweat and sex. And then the scent of roses filled his senses despite the tang of spilled beer and arousal in the air.

  Instantly he knew who it was, and he didn’t stop himself from opening his eyes and turning to the right, seeing her. She was only a couple feet from him, a waitress leaning against the side of the bar, the tray in her hands overflowing with empty glasses. She looked tired … and sad. Hell, he knew all about the kind of sadness that consumed a person.

  She was a tiny thing, short and thin and way out of her element working at a place like this. That much was obvious. As if she sensed him, she lifted her head and met his gaze. Even from the distance and without adequate lighting he could make out the startling blue of her eyes.

  He would never be able to forget when she had looked up at him that night in the Underground, the crowd intense, the scent of blood filling the air. He’d ripped those men away from her as she appeared scared. When Adrian had heard her scream, even with the noise surrounding them and the blood rushing to his ears as he faced off with his opponent in the cage, every protective instinct inside of him had gone on high alert. Memories had assaulted him, and tunnel vision had taken over.

  He’d had one goal in mind. Get to her.

  When Kash had joined in, the two cage fighters had made quick work of the drunken bystanders. It had been a very long time since he’d felt any emotions for the opposite sex. But the bone-deep protective instincts that had slammed into him as she had looked up at him, silently begging for his help, had broken something inside of him.

  Brea, he’d found out, was her name.

  It sounded sweet and innocent.

  The walls he’d built around himself, especially his heart, had cracked at that moment. Never had he experienced such a strong reaction to a woman, and never so instantaneously.

  His heart ha
d started beating again, his blood rushing through his veins. He’d felt alive.

  It had been weeks since that night, and despite his inner pep talks that he needed to stay away from her, that he was damaged goods and she didn’t need that in her life, he found himself frequenting the club where she worked, if only to see her.

  He didn’t miss the way women stared at him, ones who had been to the underground cage fighting right below this club. They wanted him for the sole reason that he fought. It turned them on. How would they feel if they knew he fought to release his emotions, to experience something other than the tightness that squeezed at his heart?

  How would they feel to know he enjoyed giving pain as much as he relished receiving it while in that cage?

  He needed to stay away from Brea, but whatever it was about her, Adrian found the more he saw her, the more he wanted her. It was a dangerous combination, and one he shouldn’t even be contemplating. But when it came to her, something in him shifted and he found himself growing possessive and territorial of her.

  He found himself wanting her as only his.

  2

  Brea watched Adrian leave. Even after his massive body disappeared in the crowd, her heart still pounded wildly. Every night she saw him sitting on the same bar stool, slamming back the whiskey like it was water and he was dying of thirst.

  He wasn’t like other men. There was a threatening aura that surrounded him, not just on the outside, not just because he fought underground.

  No, there was something deep down inside of him, something that called out to the broken piece of her she tried to keep buried.

  When she’d been offered a chance to earn a hefty amount under the table working the floor during the illegal cage fights they held under the club, she’d been leery but hadn’t even thought of turning it down. Brea needed the money desperately, and working the fights meant she was one step closer to being stable.

  She kept to herself for a reason—a good one—but she also couldn’t deny the fact that the money that had been offered would go a long way in securing her release from her personal prison. Every little bit brought her closer to escaping the nightmare that had become her life.

  So, against her better judgment and all the internal warning bells that had gone off inside of her, Brea had accepted.

  It hadn’t been until she was crammed into the basement, sweaty, drunken bodies pressed far too close for her comfort, that the past assaulted her. She could have handled it, was doing a good job, too. But when the numerous hands had started touching her, forcibly pulling at her, everything around Brea had gone black.

  She’d been back in that room, his hands moving on her, touching her, whispering disgusting things to her. Every horrendous second had seemed like eternity, and then it had all stopped.

  The air thickening, stilling.

  She’d found herself on the floor, staring into a face that was hauntingly attractive but devastating all in the same breath. His sheer size should have had her cowering even further, but she found herself wanting to reach for him. Her savior.

  It had been years since she’d wanted to reach for a man. This man, this stranger she’d just seen fighting in the cage, had come to her rescue. He hadn’t known her, yet when she’d screamed, he’d been there. He was dangerous. That much was clear.

  “Earth to Brea.”

  Brea tore her gaze from the sea of bodies that Adrian had walked into and looked at Shan. God, she’d been standing here thinking about that night, that moment Adrian had saved her, rescued her not just from the present but from her past as well.

  “Hey, are you okay?” The redheaded bartender watched her curiously. Her tiny white top was stretched over incredibly huge breasts, her nipples obscenely poking through the material. Brea knew that shirt got Shan a shitload of tips, though.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m in my own world tonight.” Since seeing Adrian all those weeks ago, she hadn’t been able to stop wondering about him. As nonchalantly as she could, Brea had inquired about him around the club until she found out his name and that he was a newer fighter. But there wasn’t much else she knew about the haunted man.

  He might not have been the typical knight in shining armor, not when he was bruised and bloody from having just finished fighting another man, but still. He’d been there for her. Closing her eyes as her past threatened to consume her again, she tried in vain not to think about the one man who had ruined her.

  She would not let her past haunt her. It had taken her a long time to get to where she was, to be able to actually stand the sight of other people. Cameron’s face still haunted her dreams, but every day she was getting better, stronger. What she needed was a breather. What she needed was to put Adrian out of her thoughts and focus on the task at hand … on herself.

  After telling Shan she needed some fresh air, she stayed close to the wall and made her way outside. A door beside the kitchen always had an illuminated area right outside, and more times than not there was someone out there taking a smoke break.

  Once she had the door pushed open and stepped outside, the night air hit her. Brea shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as she leaned against the brick wall of the building. A few people were several feet away, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke making its way to where she stood.

  She stayed right under the large spotlight and brought her leg up to rest against the wall. Her head fell back involuntarily, and she didn’t stop her eyes from closing. All she wanted to do was go to sleep. Sleep away the past year, sleep away her fucking life.

  Brea just kept telling herself soon it would all be over. Soon she would be someone new and wouldn’t have to look over her shoulder.

  ****

  He ran his hand over his cock in fast, hard strokes. Adrian wasn’t ashamed that he jerked off. He sure as fuck didn’t care that he was currently pleasuring himself to the thought of one person.

  Brea.

  He found himself getting closer and closer to the edge, the water from the shower beating down on the back of his neck as he hung his head and closed his eyes. Placing a hand on the tiled wall, he braced himself against it as he pumped his hand over his dick harder, faster.

  He thought about her.

  Brea, with her long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and pure innocence that had every protective instinct inside of him roaring out, demanding that he claim her. It was like he was a damn caveman. She was dangerous to him, and she didn’t even know it. Even after the night he had kept the drunks at bay, she still looked at him with a certain longing in her eyes.

  That was a heady, dangerous combination.

  There was a feeling inside of him that told him she didn’t realize she looked at him like that, but regardless, it called to something in him. He would only end up hurting her in the end, his past tarnishing her, his baggage too much for even him some days.

  If he let her, Brea would ruin him. That much was a given.

  He might not know a whole lot about Brea, but what he’d found out just intensified his need for her. The way she held herself, spoke, looked at him was good and wholesome. She personified the word innocence. The idea that she could be a female he lost his heart to wasn’t so far-fetched.

  Groaning, he allowed himself to come to the thoughts of Brea. His orgasm pumped through him, a small reprieve. When he was sated, he braced both hands on the wall in front of him, letting the water continue to rush down his back.

  He always felt like shit after he jerked off. Or maybe it was guilt? Either way, this was his life, and damn it, it was fucking pathetic.

  3

  Brea closed the door behind her, reset the alarm, and tossed her purse onto the small wooden bench by the front door. The alarm beeped three times, alerting her to the fact it was locked in place, and she let a relieved breath fall from her lips.

  She’d invested in the security system as soon as she’d moved in, something that gave her a semblance of calm.

  This was how it was every night. Her fear kept a c
hoke hold on her, but it was that fear that kept her heart beating in her chest and the will to survive strong. How she lived now would ultimately be what saved her life if it came down to it. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let herself go there. Not right now.

  Cameron and his abuse had controlled so much of her life that she was drained, exhausted from it all.

  Tossing her shoes to the side, she moved over to the couch and sat down, rubbing her feet and groaning softly. It was bad enough working at the club, but when she constantly had drunks hitting on her, trying to grab her ass, and then spilling their beers all over her shirt, it made it ten times worse.

  She pulled the wad of cash out of her front pocket and let herself collapse against the couch cushion. Unfolding the bills, she started to count her tips for the night. The majority were ones, but there were a few fives thrown in.

  One hundred and eighty-seven dollars. Decent for a Wednesday night.

  She forced herself to get up and headed into the small kitchen. The light she turned on illuminated the yellow, fading linoleum and brown laminated cupboards. Her tiny green fridge was straight out of the seventies, as was the rest of the two-bedroom house she rented. The only modern thing in this damn place was the security system she had installed.