Destroyed

Eight long years had passed since I’d suffered the sickly prickle of physical attraction. Sickly because when I last succumbed, all I’d earned was illness and tragedy.

It changed my life forever.

I didn’t have time for attraction.

Clara was the result of my last infatuation, and I’d been stupid. So stupid.

A wave of excitement crashed over me from the building crowd. I grabbed Clue’s hand as anxious energy unspooled in my blood. Spectators gathered tighter; heads bobbing, trying to catch a glimpse of the two men by the boxing ring.

Clue glanced at her hand in mine, then met my gaze. “Feel free to watch other fights, Zelly. I’m sure there are plenty of sexy men you could have fun with.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not interested in finding a bed-mate, Clue. I’m interested in why everyone’s acting so tense.” The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I couldn’t stand there and not discover the source of the energy. My instincts said to run but my mind said to stay. I needed to understand it. Had to see it, feel it, so I knew how to defeat it.

Danger.

I’d always been able to taste when danger was near—when something drastic was about to change my life forever. And I felt it now.

Ignore it and go home to Clara. This is pointless.

Pointless, but addicting. Unwrapping my fingers from Clue’s, I murmured, “I’m going to figure out what’s going on.”

Clue was so enthralled with Corkscrew that she only nodded. Leaving her safe, I moved away from the bright halo of lights surrounding the Muay Thai area and headed toward the boxing ring.

Weaving my way through the crowd, whispered words met my ears. “It’s him. He’s going to fight.”

“Whoever pissed him off isn’t going to be happy when they wake with a concussion.”

I inched forward with the crowd, steadily growing thicker as more people drifted down from their La-Z-boys to mill around the ring.

Breaking through the swarm of people, I couldn’t understand what warranted the crowd’s building excitement or my nervousness. No threats or raised voices were heard. My skin prickled again.

You know what’s causing it.

It was all to do with him.

The man who seemed more than human; the man who set my teeth on edge.

My eyes zeroed in on him dressed all in black. He emitted an energy, infecting everyone.

He stood chest to chest with a huge brute who looked like he’d killed a few men himself. He didn’t move or speak or make any gesture of violence, but he simmered with raw energy.

My mouth went dry for no other reason than I sensed him as a terrible menace.

The other man didn’t cower, but he lacked what the man in black possessed: a rigidity, a confidence—the sure knowledge he would win, and there was nothing the other man could do.

The man in black bared his teeth, glaring at the taller guy. Their lips moved but I couldn’t hear what was said.

I ducked closer to the side of the ring as the wash of excitement from the spectators built into a crescendo. People pressed closer; the atmosphere thickened with visible tension.

I blinked and missed what started the scuffle, but one moment the men were talking, the next they exploded into a squirmish that subsided almost as instantly as it began. A few more terse sentences and the man dressed in black pointed at the cage beside them.

The referee in the cage, who’d been watching the interaction, blew his whistle, stopping a fight mid-way. The fighters looked to the side, saw the man in black and nodded, leaving the cage as meekly as school children facing a strict headmaster.

My heart pitter-pattered as the man in black spun around and caught me staring from my place by the rigging.

His gaze glued me into place; I couldn’t move—not even to breathe.

He frowned; colourless eyes darkened with annoyance. His teeth clenched as he reverberated with energy. His square jaw looked powerful while his slightly crooked nose spoke of previous violence. His cheekbones were almost too stark for his muscular body. And I didn’t need to see beneath his clothing to know he didn’t have an inch of fat on him. He wasn’t just a man—he was a walking weapon.

He was just…more. More in every way. More man. More danger. More threat than I’d encountered in any male, but it was the scar that made him unique. Jagged, irregular, it transformed half his face from perfection to sordid story. Half of him seemed approachable while the other steeped in hell.

The doors.

The depiction of heaven and hell on the doors was perfect for the man before me.

I didn’t know him—I knew nothing more than he suffered some terrible past that made him into whoever he was, but my heart beat faster. I wanted to know, wanted to learn.

That was before he dismissed me with one look and snapped his fingers at the large man behind him. Whatever brief connection existed between us was snuffed out, leaving me with a chill.

Together they made their way to the cage and climbed the small stage to enter. Once secure inside, the man turned and locked the door.

The crowd went utterly ballistic.

The large guy ran hands over his face, speaking to the man in black. Another tense standoff happened, but finally the scarred man shook his head, snapping his fingers at the referee.

Nodding, the ref pulled a wireless mic from his back pocket and faced an audience that had turned from sedate to mob worthy.

“Ladies and gentlemen, do we have a treat for you!”

The volume on the crowd’s enjoyment dipped, holding their excitement in eager bodies. Impatience filled the large space as they tried to quieten.

My heart raced harder; blood pumped thicker.

I wanted to run. I couldn’t move.

The man in black morphed before my eyes. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, rolling his neck, he gathered every bit of energy from the room until he positively glowed with violence.

“It’s a special event—unplanned and never to be seen again. Between two ruthless contenders, please put your hands together and give a rip-roaring welcome to Mount Everest!” The referee pranced around the large shirtless man, reeling off facts. “Weighing in at two hundred kilos, Everest is well-known for his stable of elite boxers and an all-time winning streak of seventeen to none. Semi-retired, he makes his living off training other impressive fighters but is still a fearful mountain of muscle. This is the first time he’s been in the cage in over six months. Let’s make him feel welcome…Mount… Everest!”