Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
He’d gone downhill after my mother left for good. She’d already been in and out of our lives for years before that, though. I don’t think she ever really wanted kids, but when Maya was diagnosed with her heart condition, that was too much for her. I looked for her after Dad passed, and it was years later that I found out that she had died too.
I kept trying to get into that ring for a solid two weeks. When I was finally allowed to fight, I got my ass handed to me. I went down within five minutes with nothing but a black eye and some broken ribs to show for it.
And then a few weeks later, I found a gym and a trainer named Terry. He specialized in a mix of jiu-jitsu and boxing and was willing to help me. I caught on pretty quickly, and within a month, I was back in the ring. Of course, I got my ass handed to me again, but I lasted longer than I did the first time. It wasn’t until my tenth fight that I actually won, and I was fucking ecstatic.
Fighting is one of my first loves, followed closely by the Forsaken. I love both of them, each for different reasons. The Forsaken provides a safe place for me to show my dark side that I keep hidden from the rest of the world. And the fighting keeps my demons in check and helps me release my anger. I have a reputation to uphold, after all, and I need to maintain at least the facade of control.
I scan the sea of faces one last time, but I don’t see the one belonging to the woman I’m looking for. So, I turn away, step into the ring, and begin a different kind of hunt, my thirst for blood no less visceral.
SEVENTEEN
CRESSIDA
This time, I don’t push my way through the mass of bodies to the front. I stay in the back, watching him, knowing he’s searching for me. He’s swept his gaze over the crowd more than once from where he stands in the shadows near the door leading to the dressing area.
I feel like I fit in a little more than I did last time, with my jeans, tank top, and black combat boots. No one has even given me a second glance.
A loud crack echoes through the room, and everyone shouts. Last time I saw Soren fight, he waited to make his move. That’s what he does—toys with his opponents and tires them out—but this time he came out swinging as soon as the bell rang, and now his opponent is sprawled on the floor.
The crowd cheers loudly as he stands in the middle of the ring, gaze sweeping over every face once more. I know the second he spots me because his lip twitches, just barely, and suddenly it’s like all the oxygen leaves my lungs. Before I can move a muscle, he’s making his way toward me. The crowd parts for him, some calling his name, others patting him on the shoulder, congratulating him, but he ignores them all, his focus locked firmly on me.
And just like that, the roar of the crowd fades, drowned out by the pounding in my chest. He’s walking through the chaos, but it feels like he’s bringing it with him and dragging it straight to me.
Then he stops directly in front of me. “Miss Knight.” His eyes drag down my body, stopping just for a breath on my cleavage before they lower past my tight jeans, all the way down to my combat boots, and then he leisurely trails upward until he finds my eyes again.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” I bite out.
Someone bumps into me, and his hands shoot out to protect us.
“You did. Hurricane it is, then. Come to the back with me.” When I don’t say anything or move, he smirks. “I could carry you again, if you prefer.”
I know he’ll do it, so I step back and hold up my hands. “No, I’m very capable of moving my own legs.”
He eyes me skeptically before he does what he always does, clasps my hand, and pulls me along behind him. He doesn’t let go until we’re in the dressing room, where he opens his locker and pulls out a few things. He’s not wearing a shirt, and I can’t help but admire his back, how toned and muscular it is.
With nothing else to do, I stand here, awkwardly, and stare at him. He steps back from his locker and drops his shorts, showcasing his perfectly round ass. Noah has a hairy ass, but Soren’s is smooth.
Without warning, he turns, and his cock fills my view. “It’s rude to stare.”
I whip my gaze up to his face, expecting disapproval, but I can tell for a change he’s joking by the slight curl of his lips. “But as luck would have it, I don’t give a fuck.” Soren turns and walks to the open showers.