“I love this,” Kai says, bouncing around. He shakes out his hands to redirect his energy. “The feeling right before a fight. Nothing better.”
I nod and slap him on the back, more energy flowing through me. This is why I haven’t put the suggestion kibosh on boxing. I’m just as addicted to the high. It also helps that the kid has yet to take a hit in ten fights. I have a feeling the first time a fist connects with his jaw and knocks his ass out cold, I’ll change my fucking tune.
We’re almost to the stairwell that leads to the basement when he slows down, checking his phone.
“Hold up.” He turns back the way we just came, and as I look, the door at the end swings open.
In walk two burly dudes. One holds out his arm to keep the door open for someone.
And I sense her before she passes him.
“Are you fucking kidding?” I say.
He just shrugs. “She’s fucking hot, and I’m so close.” He holds up his finger and thumb, showing me just how fucking close, before he saunters down the hall toward Nyx.
I shake my head, bringing my hands to the back of my neck. My reaction isn’t only to the fact that I can’t avoid this woman, even when I try, but also to her outfit in general. A short black leather skirt and a tight white tank top. The clicks of her knee-high boots echo through the hallway.
Once she’s in reach, Kai pulls her to him, his hands running over her. His lips brush hers, then they move up her jaw. Our eyes meet as his mouth reaches her ear. She half-smiles at whatever he said and looks away from me to him, and my jaw clenches.
As they walk toward me, I glare at them both. “You plan on taking her in the ring with you?”
He waves me off, ushering her into the stairwell. “She’ll be fine with you.”
They disappear down the steps, and I follow, inwardly cursing myself for not locking him and Aves in a room somewhere. Again.
Kai ducks into a hallway, leaving Nyx with me at the base of the stairs.
I flip him off when he glances back and shouts, “Take care of her for me.”
“That bad of a request?” she asks.
I look down at her as she’s staring up at me. Melty. Fucking. Eyes.
“Not an easy one. You’re barely wearing clothes and about to be in a room full of dudes riding high on hormones.”
Shouting fills the stairwell when I push the metal door open.
Nyx walks through but stops just inside. Her gaze drifts over the sea of unwashed men spread in front of us and then down at her bare legs, and she crosses her arms over the peek of skin between her top and skirt. “Oh.”
Fantastic. Now, she has me feeling bad when she’s the one making my existence more difficult.
“You look fine,” I bite out. “I just wish Kai had told you to throw on a sack so I wouldn’t have to spend the night threatening every asshole who looks at you.”
Her eyes return to me. “Every single one?”
I shrug. “Everyone who isn’t me.”
Because I don’t know when to fucking quit, I add a wink.
She licks her lips to suppress a smile. “I’ll just have to keep you in line myself then.”
With her feelings no longer hurt, I press a hand to the small of her back, guiding her into the crowd. She latches on to my arm and plasters herself to my side to dodge people. It takes no time at all for the first set of bushy eyebrows to rise, the owner’s head following us.
In the center of the room, a chalk outline serves as a ring with a wall of muscle surrounding it to keep anyone from joining in on the fights. We push our way as far forward as we can before the bodies become so compact that I’d have to physically remove them to get us closer. I’m usually right at the front, but Nyx won’t stand a chance up there.
I stand with my arms crossed as they announce the fighters for the first round. Kai’s will come later when the room’s drunk and rowdy. Nyx cranes her neck, trying to find an opening to see the two shirtless guys being escorted toward the center. It’s only the second time I’ve seen her with her hair up, the back of her neck and shoulders bare. I swipe my fingers over the faded tattoo at the base of her neck without thinking—a ring created by a serpent swallowing its own tail. She stills at my touch, and I hang my head so my mouth hovers near her ear.
“Your tattoo,” I say above the shouting.
She turns her head to see me. “It’s the Ouroboros.”
I resist rolling my eyes. “I know.”
Depending on who you ask and in what century, the symbol represents fertility, the life-death cycle, rebirth. The correct meaning, though, is the original one. Immortality.
“But what are the lines?” I trace the ring before following one of the four vertical and wavy marks, inked overtop. It feels familiar—her skin under mine, but also the lines themselves. The spacing and staggered formation. I’ve seen them somewhere I just can’t pinpoint when in the past several thousand years.
Before Nyx can answer, someone shoves in front of her. She shifts into me, and my other hand catches her waist to balance her. More people scramble and cram into the space in the seconds before the fight starts. A swarm of locusts with us in the middle. Her back to my chest, ass against my crotch, our eyes locked. I should let go, except the warmth inside from the light rivals the heat coming from her. Both intoxicating.
Next thing I know, my fingers are sweeping again. This time, they glide over the exposed skin below the hem of her tank, skimming across her stomach. She tenses for a second but then spreads her hand over mine, resting her cheek on my chest. She stares up at me with her lips parted. The shouting turns to white noise as I bring my hand from her neck to her chin. I’m about to dip down when my angel senses tingle.
My head snaps up, the light inside of me sending my attention straight to the man on the far side of the makeshift ring. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms and ankles crossed, leering at me. While he looks like an asshole wearing a suit in a place like this, it’s not the outward appearance I give a shit about. It’s the darkness swimming beneath the surface. Flowing through him like the light does me.
Fucking demon.
After a second, his attention averts to the fight. I resist the urge to drop straight to Kai. The demon doesn’t seem all that interested in me, so there’s no fucking chance I’m pointing a giant neon sign at my charge. Most demons want nothing to do with Nephilim. Not even the upper-level ones, which this douche obviously is with his suit and styled black hair. Abaddon was the exception, and that asshole only tried to snag one for another sad—and failed—attempt at taking me out. For the Demon of Destruction, he’s shit at his job.
I scan the rest of the crowd for any other darkness, only half-aware Nyx is still standing in front of me. I’m not even touching her anymore. Like I said, my dick might act like it’s easily swayed, but strip everything away, and only three things remain. Charge. Light. Home. The fucking mantra of my existence.
“I have to go,” I tell her, not even looking down.
“What? You can’t leave me here.” She tries to grab my arm when I walk away, but I shake her off. “Chaz,” she calls. She says something else, but the fight is starting and her voice blends with the others.