“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking,” Mac huffs, forcing me to sit on the wooden bench in the locker room.
Worry creases his forehead as he inspects my cheek, prodding at the flesh.
“He’s going to be so fucking mad at you, it’s not even funny. You made a scene, love—a scene at a very well-known underground fight club. I mean, you’re lucky all you got was a bruised cheek and a tiny scratch.”
I blink, gulping around the knot of fear forming in my throat when a roar of anger fills the room. Mac stands protectively over me as if he’s worried Roman may hurt me. For a second, I am as well. He appears around the corner, his huge body racing toward me.
His gray eyes are black. His chest heaves up and down. A mixture of blood and sweat glides down his muscled chest. I want to run to him and wrap my arms around him, but at the same time, I want to run for the door.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he screams, his entire body shaking with rage as he steps into my bubble. Fear tickles the forefront of my mind, but it’s not really fear I’m feeling right in this moment. It’s anger. Angry he would bring me to an event like this and make me watch him kill a man. Angry he would risk his life for a little bit of money, which surely, he doesn’t need.
Instead of giving him what he wants, I shove up onto my feet and pull back my hand, slapping him straight across his bloodied cheek. A sting of pain lances across my palm, but the sting is a dull ache compared to the other emotions swirling inside me.
Hurt, and anger, being the biggest two.
“What were you thinking? You don’t get to come in here and ask me what I was thinking. I was worried about you. I asked you to take me home, not bring me to this stupid fight, and you brought me anyway. Tonight is all on you, Roman.” I’m surprised by my outburst, but I’m not backing down not.
I cross my arms over my chest to make myself look bigger, not that there’s any point. There’s no way I am going to intimidate this man, but I also refuse to be intimidated. Roman rubs over where I slapped him, and I almost smile with gratification.
“Mac, leave us,” he orders. Mac’s gaze moves from me back to Roman.
“I don’t think…” Mac doesn’t even get to finish before Roman steps into his face, pushing his chest against his.
“I didn’t fucking ask. I told you to leave. You aren’t her fucking gatekeeper—that’s me. Get the fuck out.” Roman’s body shakes.
Mac gives me an apologetic look before moving around Roman and slipping out the door, leaving me all alone with him. The air grows thick with tension, nearly taking my breath. Silence drones on as Roman stares at me.
“I want to throttle you. Shake the fucking shit right out of you,” he grits out.
“And I want to do the same to you,” I growl, feeling a slice of his anger slam into me. He walks right up to me, his gaze on my bruised cheek.
“You realize you could’ve been killed. Anyone who gets in that ring knows what the hell they’re getting into. One punch is nothing compared to how bad it could’ve been.”
I do know this, but the thought of possibly losing him, of him just lying there dying…I couldn’t let it happen.
“I know it could’ve been worse, but at least it got you moving. I wasn’t going to stand there like the rest of these idiots and watch you kill yourself.”
Whirling around, he slams his fists into the metal lockers behind him. The sound rings out, and I rush forward, grabbing him by the arm to stop him from hurting himself.
“No,” he roars, an animal trapped in a man’s body. Turning back around, he raises his bloody knuckles into the air as if he might hit me. “Get away from me...I can’t...I can’t fucking deal with you right now.”
He sounds as defeated as I feel. Tears sting my eyes, my anger fading to sadness. There’s no way for me to explain how important he is to me. The only thing I can think to do is kiss him. Charging forward, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close, reaching up on my tiptoes. The copper ting of blood and the odor of sweat overwhelms my senses, but the heat of his body meshing with mine is the only thing that matters as our lips crash together.
I hoped he would realize how much I want him…how much I need him. I thought he would wrap his arms around me and pull me closer. Instead, he pushes me away. The rejection hits me right in the stomach, hurting more than the punch I took earlier.
His long fingers dig into my shoulders as he keeps me at an arm’s length.
“What the fuck do you think this is?” His eyes are wild, his tone dark. “I should have never let you stay with me! I should have just had my brother send you back to wherever the fuck it is you came from! You don’t belong here, in my world…and you definitely don’t belong with me.”
A million punches would have been less painful. I step back, shrugging out of his hold. The hurt I feel inside my chest right now is so strong, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to think about the future, tomorrow, or any day going forward. It feels like I’m shattering, like I’m a plate he just picked up and threw on the floor to watch it break.
How could he say something like that? He knows how scared I am to go back, for my father to find me. He knows what was done to me. He saw the marks and bruises on my skin, and still, he said those things.
I look into his eyes. I don’t recognize the man who keeps me safe anymore. His eyes are almost vacant, void of all goodness, of all emotion besides rage. For the first time since I met Roman, doubt settles in the pit of my stomach.
How could he say these things?
Does he even care if my father finds me? Does he even care about me? I thought I knew him, or at least a piece of him, but it was all just a mask covering up the monster beneath. I twist around on my heels, ready to run out of the room...run away from him.
I have no idea where I’m going, I just need to get away, and any place is better than being here with a man who doesn’t really care about me. I make it three steps before Roman’s strong arms grab me from behind, looping around my torso, pulling me into his chest.
“Oh no you don’t. I’m not done with you. I might have made a mistake agreeing to take you in, but you’re my fucking responsibility. I don’t care how I make you feel, you’re fucking stuck with me until further notice,” he growls in my ear.
“Let go of me.” I struggle against his hold, wanting to break free. His words swirl around my head, eating away at my fragile heart.
“Keep struggling. It makes my cock hard.” His hot breath fans against my ear, and I shiver.
“I don’t want you to touch me.” I wiggle in his arms once more, feeling my strength falter.
“Funny, you weren’t saying that earlier when my fingers were grazing your cunt.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, willing tears away. I hate that he knows I wanted him, and that my body reacted to his touch in such a way.
I want to fight him…I want to hurt him like he’s hurting me, but I am just too drained. Emotionally and physically. I have nothing left inside me, nothing to give him. I let my body relax into his muscled chest and force him to carry my dead weight.
At least I can make it harder on him this way.
“I hate you,” I say quietly.
“We both know that’s not true,” he replies, and I hate that he’s right. I hate that he knows how much he means to me, and I’m mad at myself for giving him that knowledge.