The Cage King (5 page)

Ten minutes after walking in the door, and he thought he had the right to an opinion? Like
hell
. “What makes you think you have any say in my life? I’ve been doing just fine.”

“And if I don’t help you?” he challenged.

“Then there’s plan B,” she responded, flinging her hands up in frustration. “They might have determined this to be the best plan, but I guarantee they’ll have someone else I can travel with. I don’t need your
help
.”

She turned, but his fingers wrapped around her upper arm stopped her from leaving. She twisted to face him but didn’t get a chance to speak before he claimed her mouth, his lips on hers and his tongue demanding entrance.

Familiar yet new. So many times he’d done this, evoked fire in her body, flames that started low in her belly and spread to engulf her whole body. He dominated her, taking possession with his mouth, forcing her to receive pleasure as he deemed to give it.

Only white existed in her thoughts. She was all feeling, all senses. His touch, the calloused hand rough and tender as it slid along her back. His scent, sweat from the match still on his skin, woodsmoke, and the musky male undertone that was pure Esh.

Nalah’s hands were weak, trembling, as she pushed at him, breaking free enough to whisper, “We can’t. Esh.”

He groaned as she said his name and retook her mouth, a languid conquest where he drew out sighs and groans from her against her will.

It was his hands sliding down to cup her ass that brought back damned reality to the forefront. This time her push against him was harder and caught him off guard, enough that she was able to escape.

The clench of his jaw and the heavy breathing told of bringing himself under control.

They studied each other for several moments. He would do this in the cage, this focused deconstruction, those few moments before the match started, and Nalah would swear that these were the moments he was most dangerous. The fights might be more spectacular, but this was where Esh figured out his enemy – how they were weak, how to strike, how to break.

Yes, anyone with sense would fear him most in these moments.

And never let it be said Nalah didn’t have sense.

When his body relaxed, that was when Nalah’s guard went up. “I’ll do it,” he said. “I’ll accept my leash and take you to the Tour.” And just as she was about to breathe out in relief, he added, “With conditions.”

Of course there were. “What conditions?”

Esh crossed his arms over his chest in a way that stretched his T-shirt over his chest, every muscle defined under the cotton, and her mouth watered a little. “The only reason a fighter would bring a woman was if she was his, so for the duration of the Tour, you’re mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I said.”

He was arrogance personified standing there, and damned if that wasn’t a good look on him, the bastard. “Pretend I’m stupid and spell it out.”

His eyes burned as they raked over her body, as strong as a physical caress, and the sensations that hadn’t dimmed since their kiss burned brighter. “No fucking,” he said. “I’m not going to fuck you until you beg me. Everything else, that’s allowed.”

“Everything else?” she asked in spite of a very dry mouth, needing and dreading clarity for that statement.

“My mouth on yours,” he started, and began to walk toward her, slow and steady, winding and hypnotizing like a snake before it strikes. “My palms trailing over your breasts. Teeth biting into your skin, marking you for everyone to see. My cock rubbing over your ass. Tongue on your clit, and my fingers deep inside you as you come all. Over.
Me.
”

He was in front of her now, their gazes locked, both breathing heavy. “That’s what you agree to give me if I do this. From now until you get your item, you stay by my side, and I have the freedom to claim you as
mine
.”

‡

“Y
ou know who
you called.”

Beeeep

“Warm and fuzzy as always.”

Throat clearing.

“I want to be clear, since you left so fast last night. While I get I have to pretend to be yours, what you said isn’t going to happen. Yeah, for realism some things…yeah. But ummm…not like you said. You and I aren’t there.”

Pause.

“Just want to be clear.”

Click.

He had to
bring the motorcycle.

All sleek chrome and purring engine, and there Esh sat, the king of his world. His legs were splayed to keep the bike steady, the tight jeans a nice showcase for what lay underneath, highlighting both muscles and length. Over his T-shirt? A worn leather jacket that was near enough a second skin, buttery soft and inviting. The urge to stroke it – stroke
him
 – was as sharp as ever.

“I don’t like motorcycles anymore. Death traps, you know.” Her resistance was token, but she couldn’t climb behind him without the attempt.

“Get on,” he replied. The problem was she’d never had any older women in her life to advise her as she was growing up. Older women would give out good advice, like never tell a man who wanted to get into your pants that motorcycles and black leather made your thighs tremble, and your biggest fantasy was sex on top of one.

After hearing things like that, men tended to use that sort of information against you.

She could do this. One leg over, scoot back as far as possible, hold onto Esh with only her hands. Simple.

Except the moment her butt hit the seat Esh reached behind him and curled his hands under her thighs, pulling her forward until she was flush against him, breasts and belly against his broad back, her thighs spread wide to cradle his hips.

The gasp couldn’t be stopped any more than breathing could be stopped, her arms reaching around him, and then the motor gunned. She held tight as the bike took off.

The wind made conversation impossible. In jagged bits her body began to relax, to settle into both Esh and the bike. The vibrations of the bike rumbled through her skin. Esh’s back protected her from the worst of the whipping wind, and she burrowed into him, pressing closer to move with the bike, relaxing into the turns and absorbing the bumps in the road.

The sun was warm as it beat down on them, a nice complement to the bite of the wind. There was nothing like the freedom of a bike, pushed close behind your man. He wasn’t her man, not anymore, but a moment, just a moment, she could disappear into memory and enjoy.

After almost an hour of travel, he pulled onto a side road that led deep into a wooded area. “I think serial killer movies start this way,” Nalah said, loud enough to be heard over the engine.

“Yeah, but I’m around. You should be more scared for them.”

Stupid comeback, but the smile curled her lips anyway, and she ducked her head and placed it against his back as if there was a chance he could see it.

They came to a large clearing filled with mostly motorcycles and beat up trucks. The spacing was haphazard, leaving Esh to park in a loose circle of racing bikes.

Nalah pushed off, and as soon as both feet hit ground her trembling thigh muscles refused to support her weight and her legs buckled. Only Esh’s quick reflexes stopped her from falling against the motorcycle.

“It’s been awhile,” she said as warmth bloomed in her face and she avoided his eyes. Nice thing being darker-skinned was blushes were a lot harder to see, but Esh was close enough that if he was observant, he’d notice it – and Esh was nothing if not observant.

“I’m not going to complain knowing that,” he said, voice low and tone possessive, the same one he’d used when he’d told Jac they were leaving and she wouldn’t be back until morning. Her stupid brother had only smirked and said to have fun.

Thoughts of her brother brought her into the present, dissipated the blush and made sure the only reason her thighs trembled was because of the reality of riding the bike and nothing to do with the man in front of her. She met his eyes now, and whatever he saw had his mouth thinning, had him giving a small nod and grabbing her elbow for support only as they walked a small path through more trees to what she assumed was the fighters gathering area.

Steps one, two and three, they were enveloped by trees, but with step four a large gathering area opened up. A rough guess would place the number of people before them at about a hundred or so. So far all of them were human and the vast majority were men. They moved forward and joined the group.

Esh’s palm was a brand where it lay on the small of her back. Men only had to glance at it and then at Esh before they averted their eyes from her and became interested in other sights.

Women took it more as a challenge. More than one looked at the hand, looked at her, and then smirked before they gazed at Esh with half-lidded eyes and pouty lips. And any fantasy she had about ripping off those fake lips? It had nothing to do with Esh. It was because they were being rude.

After the third such display, Esh’s fingers tightened on her skin. “No fighting before the tournament, right, Nalah?”

The unconcealed humor in his tone focused her ill-defined anger from the bottle-blonde to him. “I don’t know what you mean by that statement.” To further make her point she stepped away from his touch.

The crowd was loud and getting louder, the people here not used to patience and not enjoying it. The paper Esh had received after he’d agreed to participate in the Tour had only coordinates along with a date and time. No other information was given, and it looked like people weren’t happy about that fact.

There were a few faint magical signatures, suggesting items such as magically enhanced brass knuckles or other weapons, but they weren’t impressive. As for the quality of the fighters – something was wrong. Yeah, there was always the one or two who didn’t look like they could take you apart until they exploded in the ring, but there was usually a
something
 – in the way their eyes always scanned the surroundings, how their bodies always had a faint edge of tension, on lookout for the next attack, an inner spark – a
something
that drew eyes to them, that set off warning lights inside and said,
This person. Watch this person.

Moving amongst this group? Nothing lit up inside her. They were ordinary people, not the caliber one would expect from people entering something as legendary as the Tour, none who would last more than a minute with Esh in the cage.

“So you feel it too.” Esh had come beside her as she studied the crowd.

They were alone enough that as long as she kept her voice pitched lower she was comfortable speaking her thoughts, so she said, “It can’t be this easy.”

“It’s not.” Esh’s eyes flicked back and forth, stopping a couple of times to study something in more detail. “There are two other true fighters here.”

“So what’s going on?”

“Multiple entry points and times. They don’t want us to know our opponents before we meet wherever we’re going. Also keeps us from fighting now.”

“And the rest of the people?”

“Some old ladies,” he said, squeezing her side. “Some friends. Some support staff. Some told they were going to the Tour but aren’t.”

Before she could respond a magically projected voice boomed around them. “
Fighters!
Welcome to the Underground Tour! The winner will receive everything in this life he wishes. To everyone else – there is no second place.”

‡

M
agical transportation. Sure,
it was quick, but as Nalah oriented herself to her new surroundings and suffered the two seconds of vague panic that zinged through her until she focused on Esh, Nalah decided she’d rather take the motorcycle everywhere.

One moment they were in the clearing, the next she and Esh and half of the crowd were standing before the gated entrance of a small town. The gate opened and everyone moved forward.

It took only a dozen steps for Nalah to realize, yes, this was a blackout zone. The Guild’s intelligence was right about that. It was…dull. Flat. No bursts of iridescent color combining in the corner of her eye, no almost musical twisting and twining wound tight around her skin.