As I reached the furthest side of the room, the doors now in sight, I practically breathed a sigh of relief. With quick footsteps, I moved around a bare ass that was pounding into a whore bent on her knees over her pallet but paused when a familiar voice jolted me from my planned escape. Standing before me, leaning casually against a wall as one of the whores stroked a hand over his jean clad groin, was Shadow. I stilled and watched as he casually reached for the wandering hand and wrapped his big fist around her wrist, pulling it away from his body. Just as he did, his gaze rose and found me staring. He kept talking, his intense focus entirely on me, as the whore stepped into his body, her hands now roaming his chest. My fingers curled around the hilt of my knife, and my heart pumped furiously as rage filled my body. I didn’t understand my reaction; I wanted to kill the woman touching him, then I’d gut Shadow straight after.
“Nada,” Shadow murmured, interrupting whatever blathering nonsense the whore had been spilling. “I’ve been lookin’ for you.” The whore turned to peer over her shoulder before ducking her head and fast tracking it toward a mattress where she parted the hanging sheet that offered her privacy, and stepped out of my sight. Smart girl.
“I was under the impression you didn’t do business here . . . that you prefer to take them back to your room.”
Shadow’s eyes lit up with humor, his smile staggering. “You been talkin’ about me, tough girl?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but found the words wouldn’t come out.
Shadow took the few steps between us before resuming his casual stance, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his wide chest clothed in a black t-shirt. “I like that,” he murmured.
“What?” I snapped.
“That you can’t lie to me, and you have been talkin’ about me.”
“Regan was.”
Shadow was still smiling; his shallow dimples made his face look younger, softer. I was so incredibly intrigued by those divots in his cheeks that I had to force my fingers to remain still, rather than reach out and touch them like I longed to.
“Hmmmm, Regan. I never took her for a soldier’s girl. She does have certain qualities that a man might admire: big tits and that hair. You could wrap your fists around all that hair and hold her steady while you fucked her mouth.”
No longer searching for those intriguing dimples, my hand once again wrapped itself around my knife, and my eyes searched his, looking for the truth in his words. He wanted Regan? I hadn’t seen that coming. The thought of them together made me feel ill. There was no way a man like Shadow was getting near Regan. Her beautiful, soft, innocent nature would be lost forever under the corrupted soul of a man like Shadow.
“A man might find those qualities enough,” Shadow breathed, leaning forward until his lips were a whisper away from my cheek. “Not a brute like me, though. Ya feelin’ me, girl? A man like me needs strength in a woman, maybe even a little . . . defiance.” His nose dipped into the crook of my neck, right where my shoulder met the taut tendons, and he drew in a long breath, not quite touching me, but close enough to make me shiver. “I look forward to seeing Timber cry like a bitch. You make him bleed for what he did to you. Make me proud tonight, tough girl.”
With that, he backed away, his dark eyes eventually leaving me with something akin to reluctance before he disappeared from the room. Regaining my rattled composure took me a few moments longer. Shadow had said the words “make me proud” in such a way that I found myself wanting to. He wanted to see Timber go down just as badly as I did, and although Kingsley owned me inside the ring, tonight I’d be fighting for another man.
14
SHADOW
The crowd in the arena was thrumming with an energy that made me twitchy. It was the kind of intensity that bordered on barely contained chaos. Not a white could be found, obviously the tension and danger warned them away, but the blues, yellows, and reds were out in force.
Timber’s small legion of friends, and I used the term loosely, were crowded in one corner, cajoling the man with slaps on the back and last minute advice. Timber looked focused, though, his gaze set on the enormous steel doors that would soon open and reveal his opponent, Nada. I knew she hated the flashy entrance, but it was all a part of Kingsley’s show, another way to create drama and spectacle.
The preliminary fights leading up to tonight’s main event had been brutal, with two deaths and one maiming—a soldier lost his ear by way of vicious teeth. The entire feeling tonight was one of death and mayhem. The betting was furious and leaning just slightly in Nada’s favor. Normally, I would have placed a wager, but tonight, I didn’t want this to be about trade or sport. Tonight was about revenge in its most raw and unadulterated form. It was life in the Underworld, at its lowest depths, and I wanted to watch Nada fight for me. It wasn’t about gaining another box of shit for bartering; it ran a fuck load deeper than that. The girl was mine. I wanted her, and I wanted her to want me just as bad.
The crowd actually silenced as the doors were slowly pushed open, and though I couldn’t see her, I knew she was headed my way, the crowd parting like the proverbial Red fucking Sea as she strolled through it. Then she was there. My heart fucking caught for a second, and I thought it might stop as I took her in. She was wearing what looked like a damned body suit, clinging to her skin with those sexy as fuck buckled boots. Across the chest of the black outfit were leather strips, about two inches thick, crossing her body, each strip of hide a different color: white, yellow, blue, and red. It was definitely one of Regan’s pieces; the leather ensemble was similar to the outfits Nada had worn in the past. What the fuck was the girl up to? It felt suspiciously like rebellion, and from her defiant body paint for her public lashing, I knew it was Regan that was planting the innocuous signs of solidarity on the most inconsequential, yet at the same time significant, girl in the Underworld. Her hair was in the new Mohawk she liked to wear, which looked fierce and sexy as hell. Her dark eyes were surrounded in her customary smoky charcoal, and when that dark gaze finally settled on me, I saw the unashamed interest behind that mask of boldness. It was barely concealed, and no one else would look close enough to see it, but I did. I looked deep down into her soul until I saw her need for me, and I fucking savored it. It was dirty, raw, and promised more pleasure than I had ever found with another woman.
No words were exchanged as she passed me, our eyes only leaving each other when she could no longer keep my gaze, the push of the crowd at her back sweeping her into the cage. Regan and Dejohn took their usual positions at the steel door to the bloodthirsty ring, Regan holding Nada’s knives, Dejohn a stoic mask of strength.
Timber climbed in behind her. Both fighters ignored the thundering noise that echoed through the enormous arena. Gadget, in his familiar thick glasses, followed them into the cage. After briefly checking neither party was armed with a weapon, Gadget glanced towards the rafters, and I knew the moment Kingsley nodded his assent. Gadget grinned around his too white teeth and quickly scampered out of the ring, slamming the door shut behind him. There was no formal introduction for the opponents; as soon as the door was closed, the fight was on.
Timber danced on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders and neck, watching Nada as she stood like a stone statue before him. She was ready, though. Her feet were parted; her weight was positioned slightly forward; her body was seemingly relaxed, but the way her muscles twitched in her thighs indicated she was ready for anything.
Timber raised his hands and began to dance around Nada as she slowly raised her own fists to protect her ribs and face. Timber threw a few jabs, nothing more than a half-assed attempt to feel her out. Nada didn’t bother wasting precious energy. Her eyes continued to follow him, alert and ever vigilant. When Timber ducked and went in low, Nada slapped his fist aside and stepped away, Timber following in an effort to crowd her and force her back against the cage wall. Nada swept a leg and took out Timber’s feet, sending him sprawling to the mat. With a hiss of anger, he quickly jumped back up and resum
ed his boxer stance, fists curled back towards him slightly, chin dropped, right foot a little in front of the left. Nada’s fists were faced away from her face, her legs were bent, and she was bouncing slightly, her feet evenly balanced as she waited for Timber’s next attack. She didn’t have to wait long; Timber sent out a short jab followed by a long reach uppercut. Nada stepped away from the attack, and Timber tried to follow it in, trying to move her towards the cramped confines of the cage wall again. Like she had when training with me, she allowed him to step forward. Using that momentum, she went for his legs again, sweeping him off his feet once more.
I could almost feel the humiliation in Timber when he stood; the people in his corner laughed and yelled insults that only incensed the disgraced man in him. It was a good thing; an angry fighter lost to emotions would lose focus. Timber feigned another jab towards Nada’s still healing ribs, and when her fist lowered to protect herself, he hit hard, blood gushing from her nose as he punched again, this time landing a heavy fist to her now unprotected rib cage.
Not a word escaped her lips, but by the coiling of her body, I knew she was hurting. She brushed away the blood with her shoulder while Timber smiled. He was saying something to her, and I knew the words wouldn’t be pretty. Nada kept steady, though; no emotion slipped through her façade of pure focus. She simply found her stance once more as she circled the taunting Timber. This time it was the girl who went on the offensive, throwing a right hook, followed by a left jab before her legs moved, a kick aimed at Timber’s lower legs. For a moment, he dropped his hands to defend the heavy kick, and Nada turned slightly, following it up with another high kick, connecting with Timber’s face. She didn’t hesitate to punch him in the now bleeding nose, causing Timber to scream out some colorful fucking obscenities.
Looking a sight worse for wear, Nada kept focused while Timber spat blood to the dirty mat. The fight continued. Timber connected some punches that literally forced the air from Nada’s lungs, and soon, both were a bloody mess, Timber’s moves getting sloppy as his body quickly tired. Nada didn’t back off at all; though visibly exhausted, every executed move was done to perfection. Soon, she clearly had the advantage. Leaning back, she aimed a high kick to Timber’s face again, and he barely blocked it before she lifted off the mat, her body rotating as she landed a perfect roundhouse on the opposite side of Timber’s head. This time he found himself on his knees, and knowing she needed to take advantage of his vulnerability, no matter how much her body screamed for rest, Nada delivered a kick to the man’s balls that had everyone with a cock groaning in sympathy . . . except me. I fucking smiled as I watched Timber writhe in pain. Nada didn’t stop her brutal assault as she kicked him in the head and more bodily fluids splattered across the floor, further sinking into the stained mat. With a rough hand, she grabbed a fistful of Timber’s hair and dragged him to a sloppy sitting position. His face, racked with pain, was angled towards me. Nada smiled through a mouthful of blood before reaching over Timber’s shoulder and grabbing his dick. He screamed like no man should ever scream, unless he was an Underworld piece of shit who was caught eyeing underage flesh. Tears streaked down his face as his body twitched under Nada’s brutal grip, and she only let up when the fucker passed out.
I grinned right back at the girl as she pushed Timber to the floor and stood on sturdy legs. I knew she was dead-ass tired, but she wouldn’t show that kind of weakness in front of Kingsley. The crowd went crazy, jostling each other with unabashed anarchy as Nada was allowed to step out of the cage. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched Kingsley, his stony expression on Nada as Dejohn led her away. His dark gaze found mine before I was dismissed with a subtle nod. Turning away from Timber, who was laying in the center of the cage, I left the arena to find my Nada.
I don’t know if I wore a sign that said ‘I give a fuck’, but every person that tried to step into my path while I made my way towards Nada’s room caught my wrath. Rocket had wanted to speak to me about a trade; I stepped around his wide form and ignored him. Jones needed a fucking generator looked at; I pushed him out of my way. Bee and Sam wanted to fuck, all of us together, in one blissed out marathon of sex. While my stubborn cock wanted to pause at their offer, I knew it wasn’t either of their bodies that would satisfy me, so I stepped right between their big fake tits and dilated, NIM high pupils. It took me nearly forty minutes to make it to her room, and I punched the door hard when I found it empty. The gym was my next obvious choice, and as I approached the dark, grimy depths of the Underworld, I stilled at the sound of whispered words coming from inside.
“Come on, baby. Hurry up and get that fucking crazy-ass outfit off. I want to fuck you so bad.”
The unfamiliar male voice was low and throaty with a need I knew only too well.
“Just wait a fucking minute, Kye. I still have blood all over me.”
“That’s never stopped you before, baby. Come on. My dick is so fucking hard after that fight. I bet you’re slippery and wet for me.”
Any logical thought process fled my brain as I kicked in the partially open door and stormed into the room. Kye, his name not even vaguely familiar to me, sat on the long bench that ran the length of the room, his baggy jeans dropped to his knees, his dick in the palm of his hand. His startled gaze was on me, but my eyes were all for Nada, who stood before him, still completely dressed, her hand frozen on the zipper.
“You fuckin’ touch that zipper and he’s as good as dead,” I growled, the sound shocking even me.
Kye’s shit scared gaze swung between me and Nada. She sighed, turning just slightly to face me. Her face was battered and bruised, but she still looked beautiful to me. I could see the fire dancing behind her eyes. She might as well have sucked back half a dozen NIM canisters, her body obviously riding the high from her fight. When she crashed, it would be hard, but, in the meantime, I’d be fucked if I was letting her screw off her excess energy with anyone but me.
“You better tuck that cock away, or you’ll be workin’ off that ass of yours in the Whore Pit for a month. Pussy’s runnin’ low again, and King’s been talking about puttin’ some more young, dumb, full of cum dicks down there for the fellas who aren’t fussy.”
Kye didn’t even bother to zip up as he ran past me and out of the gym.
“I need him,” Nada seethed.
“You need a dick, baby, but I’ll be damned if I let you have just any dick. You’re mine, and if you need someone to help you come down, it’s gonna be fuckin’ me. You feelin’ me, baby?”
She didn’t argue. She didn’t back away. My cock hardened at her body’s defiant posture. She stood tall and proud, even though she was hurting.
“Turn around, tough girl.”
She didn’t move. Bold bitch. Moving fast, I gripped her shoulders and spun her around, pushing her towards the wall. A breath of air escaped her lips as I pressed my body against hers, my hand working the zipper down the back of her skin tight suit. I ruthlessly tore the clothing from her arms and down her legs as Nada wrestled and fought for control. Only once she was completely naked and exposed to me did she still, her chest rising and falling in a hard, heavy pace. From somewhere deep inside me, I tapped into a long forgotten gentleness. My fingers caressed her bruised flesh, up her arms, down her back and around the flare of her hips.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“If you don’t know, that fucker with his hand on his dick was obviously doin’ something wrong, but I’m gonna fix that, baby. I’m gonna show you what it feels like to be mine.”
15
NADA
They say when death passes before your eyes, you view your life in the way of snapshots, your brain firing off moments that are dredged up from a long forgotten vault in your mind. That doesn’t happen when you’re being raped; the only thought to enter your mind is panic. Pure, unadulterated panic that is so thick it drowns you. I remembered the fear from my rape like it happened only days ago, my perfect photographic memory happy to relive the horrifyi
ng moment my body was used in the worst of ways. But through the terror that was currently trying to drag me down into its murky depths, I noticed small things that were different this time. The cruel hands that had once snatched and grabbed could not be felt, the sounds of carnal hate and vicious threats could not be heard, and the heavy scent of NIM, body odor, and moonshine could not be smelled. Grabbing the threads of sanity before I succumbed to madness and panic, I allowed myself to note these differences. Shadow’s hands were touching my skin with a gentleness, almost reverence, I had never experienced, as they played over my body, touching me intimately. Shadow was all hard, male, and almost overwhelming if it weren’t for those differences. He was warm, his touch was soft, and his scent was clean and masculine.
“Beautiful,” he breathed in my ear. His words were so tender and honest, they surely could not be meant for me. Nobody ever used ‘beautiful’ to describe me.
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