Page 60 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
Tossing my hair, I move away from Cade and head around the inner part of the ring for a better view, finding one on the edge of a barstool just as the next round begins. Dozer, the big guy with the salt-and-pepper beard, charges Beast as soon as the ref calls the match, throwing up a pretty impressive high kick that makes the muscles in his thighs look like rocks. My mouth pops open, and I lean forward on my seat, but the kick doesn’t even come close to hitting its target.
Beast bounces back on his feet, making him seem a lot lighter than he looks. He ducks below the kick, and then moves in with a swing. His opponent drops down and then throws his massive weight in Beast’s direction, hitting him in the midsection and knocking him back a few steps. Looking at Beast’s face, you’d think he was baking fucking cupcakes or something. There’s absolutely no strain or worry in his face as he grapples the other man, pushing him back a good foot, and then coming in swinging. His first punch hits Dozer in the side of his head, buckling his knees. Dozer tries to recover, but Beast knocks him to the ground and takes several more, calculated swings.
Less than thirty seconds in, and the fight’s over.
The crowd cheers—well, the part of the crowd who bet on Beast anyway—and money changes hands again.
“Anybody else?” one of the old-timers asks, looking around at the crowd. “Really, no takers? You bunch o’ pussies.”
“You fight him then, Ronald!” someone shouts, and laughter erupts around the ring as several women in short skirts and shorts approach Beast with towels and bottles of water. He accepts the proffered items, tossing back an entire bottle while they rub all over him, touching his abs, his sweaty chest, pressing sweet-scented kisses to the sides of his throat.
“I’m going outside for a smoke,” Sin says, snapping me out of my trance. I open my mouth to ask him why the hell he’s even bothering: the entire room is full of people smoking. But he’s already pushing through the crowd toward the front door, and I end up following after, emerging into the cool darkness of an Oregon night, stars spread out above me like twinkle lights.
“Beast is really good, isn’t he?” I ask, but Sin just grunts and lights up, leaning his elbows on the railing and looking out toward the woods. There are couples out here, some of them with pants pushed down or skirts up. My eyes wander to a tattooed hand cupping a bare breast, a woman’s parted red lips around the base of a thick cock. Doesn’t bother me. I’ve been seeing shit like this my whole life. Instead, I turn around and position myself on the railing next to Sin.
“He was a UFC champ, so yeah, he is.”
“Why would someone with so much talent join this dump?” I ask, and then pause as I realize that Sin’s stiffened up beside me. Not only is he the youngest current member of the club, but he’s also the youngest to have ever prospected in. I think I just implied that his life’s ambition is shit. Oops. “I mean—”
“I know exactly what you mean, Gidge,” he snaps at me, the irritation in his voice reminding me of Grainger. “I could ask you the same question, you know.” Sin stares into the shadows as I open my mouth and then close it again. I was about to say something stupid, blame my tragedy and my circumstance, but then … that’s probably why Sin’s here, too, huh? His sister is dead, too, and I have no idea what sort of life he lived before he became a Daybreaker. Shit, maybe this really is a step up from where he comes from?
“You’re right,” I say with a sigh, leaning my shoulder into him in search of comradery. “I’m in no place to judge anyone.” Standing out here in the quiet and the cool and the shadows, I can think a bit more clearly, past the blow and the booze. “It was kinda fucked of me to hit on Grainger after I, you know, kissed you.”
“You don’t owe me shit. We aren’t going steady. This isn’t fucking high school, Gidge.” Sin smokes his cigarette, still not looking at me. When I reach over and run my nails down his bare arm though, he shivers and flicks that silver gaze in my direction. There’s a flare of heat there that he tries to hide, but I catch it and hold onto it, leaning close and putting my lips near the corner of his mouth. I want oblivion tonight, and I caught of glimpse of it in the bathroom with Grainger. I need more.
“Nobody said anything about going steady,” I whisper, trailing my lips down the line of his jaw and then working my way back toward his ear. “I just want to fuck.” My teeth nibble his earlobe as my right hand drops down and slides over the bulge in his jeans. Oh yes. He’s hard for me. Bet he’s been hard for me all night.
