Chapter 1

Chaos was the perfect distraction from what should’ve been a wicked night but was turning out to be frustrating as hell. Reed Dane rushed from one end of the bar to the other, serving up drinks while trying to ignore the fact that his dick was being needy as fuck. The hot scenes playing out around him didn’t help. The Asylum’s annual all-member challenge was always wild, and this was only the second one he’d been allowed to attend.

The first one had been a lot more fun.

Wiping some scattered wet rings off the bar, Reed licked his bottom lip as he caught sight of a submissive fighter, with a thick black collar locked around his neck, drop to his knees in front of his long-time Dom. The older and balding, but still massively built, Dom was having a casual conversation with the fighter next to him as his sub took him in his mouth. The way he stroked his sub’s short brown hair held a tenderness Reed craved.

He glanced at the old-fashioned black and gold clock over the tables along the wall. Almost ten o’clock, when Doc would be taking over for two hours so Reed could get in on the entertainment. Or be part of the entertainment. At this point, if one more man avoided even meeting his eyes, Reed was gonna climb up on the bar and give them a show they couldn’t ignore.

Not that he could top the show the co-owner, Lawson ‘The Law’ Gaumond, and his sub, Matt, had given on the pool table, but he didn’t mind taking second billing. Getting a chance to help torture his buddy had been a nice break from being persona non grata. Matt was a lucky bastard, and he and Law were damn hot together. Watching Law pin his man down and take him hard, right there in front of everyone, had given Reed a perma-erection even a cold shower wasn’t gonna fix.

He needed that. A Dom who’d own him that completely. Didn’t have to be forever, like Law and Matt were obviously gonna be, but more than a brief round in the dungeon would be nice.

Though he’d go for that at this point. On nights like this, he usually had his pick of challenges. The bar had been open since five, and he still didn’t have one. Not. Even. One.

What the fuck is going on?

“Reed!” From the end of the bar, Dallas Stephens waved to catch his attention. Tall, with an impressive build earned through a lifetime training as a wrestler, Dallas was quickly moving up the ranks in The Asylum as one of the most skilled fighters. He was also gorgeous. Light brown skin which contrasted nicely with the sleeveless white shirt he wore, leathers molded perfectly to his thick thighs, the switch leaned toward heavier play than Reed was used to, but he was game for pretty much anything tonight.

As Reed slinked over, his most seductive smile on his lips, Dallas chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, hell no, boy. Don’t give me that look. Not happening. I just want a drink.”

Reed stuck out his bottom lip, not giving a damn if it made him look like a sulky kid. The way things were going, he might as well be locked off in the upstairs lofts, playing videogames with the teens. What the hell did a guy have to do to get some action around here?

“Stop pouting. You’ve been a fucking brat lately. It’s no wonder Curtis—”

Midway through pouring Dallas’s regular whiskey sour, Reed froze. Dallas had cut himself off, but there was no doubt what he’d been about to say.

Still, Reed turned slowly, eyes narrowed. “Curtis, what?”

Brow furrowed, Dallas leaned over the bar, keeping his voice low enough that Reed had to practically climb on the bar to hear him. “Don’t get yourself in more trouble, kid. He’s looking out for you. Probably best you don’t take any challenges tonight.”

Handing Dallas his drink, Reed nodded slowly. Perched on the counter behind the bar, he considered his options. If Curtis had put out the word that Reed wasn’t to be challenged, not a single one of the regular members would defy him.

Only one problem with Curtis’s plan.

Lawson had told Reed he had to get in that ring tonight. And Reed didn’t disobey orders⁠—not the ones that suited him anyway.

A glance and he spotted his target. The regulars might fall in line, but there were plenty of new guys around. He smirked at Dallas, then reached across the bar, pushing a glass off the surface.

Straight into the lap of the closest man he didn’t recognize.

Shooting off his stool with a curse, the man swept his hands over his leathers and shot Reed a cold, assessing look. His gaze heated as Reed stared back at him, and he shoved closer to the bar, leaning over it to latch on to the collar of Reed’s shirt.