“It’s done, Shay,” a voice bellows in my ears, arms hooked under shoulders to drag me off.
I could take this asshole too, but I don’t, it’d be too easy. Shaking him off, I smile down at my handiwork. The guy’s face is unrecognizable; swollen facial tissue, split skin and pools of fresh and congealed blood covering every visible slice of flesh.
Spitting a mouthful of blood to the ground, I jump from the ring, walking away without another word.
I don’t bother showering; sweat, blood, and grime coating my skin like a filthy moisturizer. I yank my shirt over my head with little finesse, my body groaning in protest. I relish in the pain, taking comfort in my own discomfort.
I collect my cash at the door, pissed off glances aimed my way as I stuff the bills into my pants without counting it. I don’t fight for the money, I’d do it for free, hell, I’d pay for the fucking privilege. But I’m not gonna lie, watching the hate spike in the eyes of these slimy fuckers... it’s an added bonus. Winking at the asshole who handed me my winnings, I smirk, knowing damn well he bet against me.
Dickhead.
“Gonna get yourself killed one day, Shay.”
“Like to see ‘em try.” I sling my duffle over my shoulder, walking through the door and into the cold night air.
“Face needs stitches,” he yells after me.
He’s not wrong. The split on my eyebrow won’t stop bleeding. The warmth of my idiotic need to feel pain scoring along my skin quicker than I can mop it up.
“Fuck, Roc,” Parker grates as I walk through the door, my shirt balled in my fist to soak up my blood.
“It’s fine,” I lie. “Just a little cut. Nothing a bit of tape won’t fix.”
His girl stands a few feet behind him, a grimace on her pretty face. “Doesn’t look fine.”
“Why are you here anyway?”
Parker shrugs, unperturbed by the sting in my tone.
He steps into my space, grabbing at my shirt to pull it from my eyebrow. “Codi’s sister told us to make ourselves scarce for a few hours,” he answers distractedly, worry lining his face. “Apparently we screw too loud.”
I smile, the gesture forcing more blood to spill from the open wound. “It’s true,” I grunt.
“You need a doctor.” Codi ignores us both, the shade on her cheeks highlighting her embarrassment like a neon sign.
My brother’s fiancée used to be as innocent as they come. Who even knew twenty-five-year-old virgins still existed? Especially ones as hot as Codi Rein. Park is doing his best to corrupt her though. Not that she’s protesting. It’s sickening.
“I’m fine.” I push Parker’s hand away, stepping back.
“Parker,” she pushes, ignoring me completely.
“She’s not wrong, Roc.” He steps forward again. “I don’t think tape is going to cut it.”
I sigh. “Doctors and hospitals ask questions. It’s a paper cut, just chill. I’m going to bed.”
They stare at me for a beat.
“I’m calling Ryn.”
“Like fuck you are,” I argue.
Codi nudges Parker.
"Dude,” he combats. “I’m either driving you to the hospital to have someone stitch your face, or Codi’s calling her sister.”
Whipped.
“No and fuck no.” I move away. “Don’t let me hear you fuck. Do it quietly, I’ve got a headache.”
I walk into my bathroom, stripping down to nothing. Stepping into the rain of the shower, my skin breaks out in goosebumps, the water like ice. It soothes my muscles and irritates my skin all at once. It only takes a second longer to warm up, a loud groan falling from my mouth in relief.
Letting the warm water run over my face, I wince at the throb of pain it causes. I watch the water—tinged in an orange the color of rust—swirl down the drain only to be replaced seconds later.
I wash quickly, needing to get off my feet and sit down before I fall. The room spins as I step from the shower, the effects of too many knocks to the head catching up with me. Towel tucked around my waist, I move into my room, pausing at the brunette perched upon my bed.
“Heard you were in need of assistance.”
“Parker,” I growl loudly enough for him to hear me.
“He’s chicken shit. He and Codi hid in his room as soon as they let me in. Seems they think you’re unstable. Don’t know what ever would’ve given them that idea,” she ponders sarcastically.
“I’m fine.”
“I beg to differ, you’re wearing blood like a sash. I’ll stitch your face and then you can go on pretending you’re inhuman and unneeding of medical assistance.”
“Why are you here?” I ask skeptically.
There’s no love lost between me and the oldest Rein sister. In fact, I’d bet my left nut on the fact that she abhors my very existence. Not that I blame her, I’m reading the same fucking page.
She stands as I sit, her fingers poking at the broken skin without prelude. “Codi asked me to come.”
“Here I thought you’d grown a soft spot.”
She snorts. “Let me be clear, I don’t want to be here. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be. I don’t like you. Frankly, I despise you. Codi called me panicked,” she explains absentmindedly. “I thought she was hurt. I could hardly turn around and go home without stitching your stupid face.”
“You could have,” I argue.
Her eyes, focused on the split in my eyebrow, don’t blink, her fingers working seamlessly to stitch my skin. She doesn’t speak.
I cough out a laugh, shaking my head. I’m in shock. My mind working tirelessly in an attempt to reconcile my current circumstance.
Camryn Rein, helping me.
She scowls when I move, her deep blue eyes settling on me in irritation. “Stay still, Hercules.”
“Calling me a god?” I whisper.
A soft blush heats her neck, skin darkening in awkward patches of embarrassment.
That gentle look of discomfort brings me a whole lot of joy. As pretty as she is, Camryn holds a shield of frigidity that deters her appeal. Shaking that shield tenderizes her, offering me the upper hand in this tug-of-war of animosity we’re playing.
“Maybe the god of stupidity,” she rebuts. “How did this happen anyway? How did the other guy get one up on you? You don’t seem like someone who’d get knocked around.”
I shrug, making her glower once again.
“I’m about to poke you in the eye with this needle. Stop. Moving.”
I roll my eyes. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you,” I offer.
Stepping back, she smiles at her handiwork. “You don’t know me, which means you have no clue whether I’d understand or not. Don’t generalize me by your misguided opinion of who you think I am.”
I blink in confusion.
“All fixed. Try to keep it dry. I’ll come back in a few days to check on it and remove the stitches. In the meantime, try not to let anyone else beat you up.”
With that, she’s gone, and popping a few Tylenol, I drop to my bed, feet still planted on the floor, welcoming the few hours of unconsciousness I’ll manage.