Page 8 of Knuckles & Knives
Dom tenses beside me, but I don’t move away. Instead, I lean into Kieran’s touch slightly, letting him feel the heat of my skin. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m stating facts.” His thumb traces over my split lip, and the gentle touch sends an unwelcome shiver through me. “You’re Vincent Blackwood’s daughter, which makes you a liability to everyone in this room. The smart thing would be to eliminate that liability.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because,” he says, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, “you’re far more interesting alive.”
I should be terrified—Iamterrified—but there’s something else there too. Something that recognizes the predator in him and responds with heat instead of fear.
“Interesting enough to keep around?” I ask.
“For now.” His hand drops away from my face, leaving me feeling strangely bereft. “But I’ll be watching you, Raven Blackwood. Very closely.”
The dual promise and threat settles around me like chains made of silk and steel. It sends conflicting signals through my nervous system that I don’t have time to analyze right now.
“I’m counting on it,” I tell him.
This is going to be complicated.
CHAPTER 3
The VIP lounge feels like a gilded cage as Kieran’s words echo in my mind.I’ll be watching you.
“Fascinating as this reunion has been,” Marcus interjects smoothly, “I believe there are other matters requiring our attention downstairs.” He gestures toward the windows overlooking the main floor, where the crowd has swelled to twice its previous size. “Ghost has three more fights scheduled tonight, and the betting pool has reached impressive levels.”
Three more fights? Despite my knocking him out? They’re going ahead with those bouts? I’m not sure if that says more about this organization or about Ghost. Hmm…
Kieran’s ice-blue gaze flicks to Marcus then back to me. “Of course. Business before pleasure.” He straightens his cufflinks, a nervous tell maybe. No one can convince me otherwise.
My presence rattles him. He hadn’t expected me to show up tonight… or any night for that matter. Keeping him on his toes… having him sleep with one eye open… I intend to do all that to him and so much more.
“Ms. Blackwood, I trust you’ll find tonight’s remaining entertainment… educational,” Kieran adds.
“I’m sure I will,” I reply, matching his formal tone even as my pulse hammers against my throat.
Fuck. He rattles me too. Not surprising, of course, but I need to get a better handle on things.
Dom moves closer to my side as we’re escorted back to the elevator, his presence both comforting and suffocating. Tension emits from him in waves, the barely contained violence he’s holding in check for my sake.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs as the elevator descends. “Whatever game you’re playing, it’s not worth your life.”
I meet his dark eyes in the reflection of the steel doors. “My life stopped being worth much the night they killed my father. Everything since then has been borrowed time.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. We both know the truth when we hear it.
The main floor hits us like a wall of sound and sensation—screaming crowds, the metallic taste of blood in the air, and underneath it all, the primal electricity of violence barely contained by rules and ritual. My attention immediately zeros in on the octagonal cage at the center of it all, where a new fighter has taken the stage. I barely register the newcomer, though, because Axel Rivera moves like liquid mercury, all fluid grace and controlled chaos. He’s smaller than his current opponent—a hulking brute with prison tattoos covering every visible inch of skin—but size means nothing when you fight like the devil himself.
“Jesus,” I breathe, watching as Axel slips a devastating right hook and counters with a knee strike that drops his opponent like a stone. “How long has he been fighting?”
“Two hours,” Marcus answers, appearing at my elbow with the silent efficiency that makes him so unsettling. “You did better than most. The other ones he’s been up against havebarely made him break a sweat. Don’t worry. He’s good to go… although I’m sure his losing to you has only added fuel to his fire. These guys… He’s not going to hold back any.”
As if he knows we’re talking about him, Axel glances up toward where we’re standing, and those unusual amber-brown eyes find mine across the crowded space. Even at this distance, I can see the wild energy crackling beneath his surface, the barely contained violence that makes him so dangerous in the ring.
How in the hell did I manage to get the better of him?
He held back, the fucker. He didn’t go full beast-mode against me.
But I still put him on the made. I still made the crowd go silent, and that part was all me.
