Page 53 of Wicked Minds
Honestly, I’ve been right there with them.
I shouldn’t have been worried since he isdominatinghis fight against Bruiser. I never would have thought I’d enjoy this sort of animalistic thrill, but I’m captivated, unable to blink as I watch. Similar to when I’m at one of Logan’s games, there’s an energy in the atmosphere, everyone united in their baying for blood. It’s a palpable intensity that vibrates through you. The entire warehouse becomes a conduit for the raw power radiating from the ring until the air is thick with sweat, determination, and a primal energy that demands attention.
Just like the patrons at Lux watch enraptured during our performances, you can’t help getting sucked in as the whole world shrinks to the fight happening before you. My entirefocus has been on Royce as he delivered brutal blows to his opponent. The ferocity in his eyes is a testament to the unbridled anger simmering through him, driving him beyond his limits in pursuit of the pain he is seeking.
One thing I have uncovered in my sharp observation of him is that Royce fights not because he enjoys it, but because heneedsit. He fights to press pause on his life. To lose himself in something other than his thoughts. He seeks out the pain as a distraction. Relishes in the burn, for at least it’s a pain he’s inflicted on himself instead of one cast upon him.
I read all of this in the hard lines of his face, in the splitting of his knuckles, and the tensing of his body before he launches his next savage attack. But most notably, I read it in the lack of victory displayed on his face when he throws the final knockout punch that sets the crowd ablaze. Everyone around me erupts into a cacophony of cheers, but not Royce.
His chest is heaving, tattoos shining from sweat beneath the floodlights, as he stares down at his opponent. There’s no triumph in that stare. No sense of accomplishment. Only resignation that his brief moment of tranquility has come to an end.
Heart hurting for whatever it is Royce is running from, and the fact he feels the need to cause himself physical pain, I tear my gaze away and instead scan the rest of the crowd who are still screaming his name. I know none of them see what I do. Then again, the man in the ring is Ruthless to all of them, not Royce.
“Fucking hell, that was incredible,” Tara yells in my ear.
“Yeah.” That's all I can say in response. My own emotions feel as though they are bubbling just beneath the surface, and I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.
How plainly I can see Royce in a way no one else can. How comfortable I am in Logan’s presence. Howeasyit is with both of them. Yet, the way I feel about them both is anything buteasy. It’s confusing and messy. On one hand, being around them feels so innately right, and on the other, I’m angry at myself for feeling that way. It shouldn’t feel right. I shouldn’t feel this undeniable pull toward both of them after what they put me through.
And yet, I do.
“Oh shit, girl. I think you’re about to be in the best sort of trouble.”
At Tara’s teasing tone, I snap my head up, my gaze colliding with vibrant blue eyes. Royce is staring directly at me, his ever-present intensity searing me to the bone.
It’s the same vehemence he wears at Lux, but it’s also different. More, somehow. For the first time, there’s a question in his gaze. A palpable longing. One I feel, too. It tugs on my core incessantly, and I’m so sick of fighting it. Of resisting. Of him sitting on one side of the room with me on the other.
I’m not sure who moves first; whether I nod or he steps forward as our chemistry reaches a boiling point and we finally succumb to the undeniable force.
He ducks between the ropes, and the crowd parts like the Red Sea as he strides toward me, his long legs eating up the distance between us until thick, muscular arms band around me and I’m thrown over his shoulder.
Heart racing, I squeak out a protest, which is swallowed up by a renewed roar from the crowd before we barrel through a door. It swings shut behind us, somewhat dimming the chaos, and in the absence of noise, I become acutely aware that Royce King is manhandling me.
“Royce, what the hell!”
He hitches my legs around his torso before sliding me down his front until his firm pecs press against my chest and my legs are wrapped around his waist. His hands grasp the tops of my thighs, the corded muscles bunching in his shoulders as he holdsme up. My eyes drink in every inch of tattooed skin on display before I lift my head to meet his stare. Eyes that moments ago glinted with ferocity, now appear softer, warmer. Brimming with a different kind of passion.
I barely have time to notice the small cut on his lip from a hit he must have taken before my back slams into something cold and hard. The metal of a locker creaks beneath the strain before warm, supple lips descend on mine, and my mind is wiped clean of all thoughts.
The bitter taste of copper floods my mouth, the savagery of it sending me spiraling as every atom of my being narrows in on the six feet of tattooed muscle pressed flush against me. The raw heat that emanates from his body. The firmness of his hard lines pressed against my softness. The firing of neurons and exploding of endorphins set my body ablaze and have me pleading to the gods above that this moment will never end.
My hands slide over smooth skin as I pull him closer, my tongue dancing along his as I arch my back and moan into his kiss. The explosion of chemistry is indulgent, just as it always is when we collide. Royce and I are like opposing magnets—forever drawn to one another, and no matter how hard we resist, the overwhelming pull is ultimately undeniable. Each time, the impact is just as incendiary, and I’m only now beginning to understand that there is no extinguishing these flames.
Pressing me more firmly into the locker, his hand slides over my ass, my skirt riding up as I squeeze my legs, pulling him infinitely closer. His other hand perches flat against the locker door beside my head as he moves to scrape his teeth along my jaw.
His rough beard scratches at my skin, sending shivers of delight straight to my core where a pulsing has taken up residence, building with each tantalizing touch.
“What are you doing here?” The vibration of Royce’s lips against my skin elicits goosebumps as he sucks my earlobe into his mouth before descending lower along my throat. “I felt your presence the second I stepped into the ring.” My chest rises with heaving breaths. “All I could think about was getting to you.” His hand palms my ass and he rocks his thick, hard length against my core. “I had to hold myself back from obliterating him with one punch.” His tongue licks a path over my collarbone. “Couldn’t even look at you because I knew, one look and I’d be rock hard for the entire warehouse to see.” I gasp. “Still, I felt the radiant heat of your stare. Felt you watching my every move.” Running his nose up my neck, his voice is a deep, seductive rumble in my ear as he whispers, “Did you enjoy watching me play with my food before I killed it?”
Head too clouded with lust, Royce barely gets a response from me until he nips on the sensitive skin of my neck, and I moan out a “Yes.”
Cold air bites at my skin as he moves back, and my eyes snap open, finding him watching me closely. His fingers run along my collarbone before his hand rests at the base of my neck, this thumb gently rubbing back and forth across my pulse point.
“You really should have stayed away,” he murmurs, more to himself. “Because I can’t. I’ve tried…fuck, I’m trying, because I’m not what you need. You’re all pure and healed, and I’m… not enough. Yet every moment I’m around you, I lose the will to stay away a little bit more.”
“What if I don’t want you to stay away?”
His gaze drops to my lips at my question, remaining there as he half-growls. “Then I guess we’re going up in flames together.”
