Chapter 2

The way his lips slit into a slow, dangerous smile sent a chill up Reed’s spine. Black hair, shaved in an intricate pattern along the sides of his head, fell over one eye, the other almost black in the shadow of the large hood he had up. The sleeves were ripped off the man’s black hoodie, revealing skin a pale golden-brown shade, and massive shoulders, almost twice the size of Reed’s.

This might not have been one of my brightest ideas ever. Reed chewed on his bottom lip, glancing over at Dallas who stepped back and threw his hands up in exasperation. He wasn’t gonna be any help.

“You wanted my attention?” The man’s voice had a deep, gritty quality that put Reed’s every instinct on high alert. His shiver made the man’s smile widen. “Yes, I think you’ll do nicely. What’s your name?”

Squaring his shoulders, Reed hopped off the counter, freeing himself from the man’s grip. “Reed.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure, but that remains to be seen.” The man exchanged a look with Dallas, gave him a nod of mutual regard, then brought his attention back to Reed. “Do you require permission before you accept my challenge?”

Permission? That drew a bitter laugh from Reed’s lips. Screw it, he’d just fight the man, win, and show Curtis he didn’t need his damn protection. Maybe he’d let the guy fuck him anyway, just for the hell of it. From what he could see of the man, he wasn’t bad looking.

Just...scary.

“I don’t answer to anyone,” Reed spoke over Dallas’s startled protest. “There’s an opening at ten-thirty. See you in the ring.”

The man inclined his head and worked his way through the crowd without another word. Reed turned to go back to filling drink orders. A firm shove had his back against the bar as Doc, The Asylum’s on-site medic and resident sadist, loomed over him.

If the other man had been scary, Doc, his eyes burning with rage, was downright terrifying. “You’re a damn fool, boy. Do you have any idea who that was?”

Clamping his lips shut, Reed shook his head.

Doc let out a rough, irritated sound. “Kovit came here to visit me. We trained with the same Dom. If you wanted a beating that bad, you could’ve just asked.”

Yeah, Reed did not play with Doc. He enjoyed leaving the dungeon in one piece⁠—his ego included. Clearing his throat, he lifted his shoulders. “Good thing I don’t plan to lose.”

Shaking his head, Doc took a step back and folded his arms, lightly tanned and covered in intricate tattoos, over his chest. “He’s a Muay Thai fighter. Your best shot is to concede the fight before you set foot in that ring.”

Now that was just insulting. Reed rolled his shoulders, looking to the clock again. He had about half an hour to get ready and come up with some kind of strategy. Which didn’t include standing here and being told he wasn’t up to the challenge.

Sure, the guy might have impressive skills, but Reed had a few tricks up his sleeves, and he rarely lost fights he hadn’t planned to in the first place. Besides, being dragged upstairs wasn’t exactly a hardship. He loved being restrained, loved the edge of knowing, unless he used his safeword, the Dom-of-the-night could have their way with him. He surrendered all control the second he walked through those doors.

Doing the same with Kovit, though… He wasn’t a complete idiot. If Doc was warning him about the dude, Reed had to keep enough of the control to call the shots before he got naked. He wouldn’t punk out on whatever he agreed to. Tonight, by accepting a challenge, that meant no-holds-barred.

“I’m gonna fight, Doc, but thanks for the head’s up.” Feeling daring, he batted his eyelashes, grinning when the man’s expression darkened. “You gonna have fun patching me up when this is over?”

That Doc didn’t laugh, or even cuff him upside the head like he normally would, was concerning. Doc let his hands fall to his sides and shook his head with a sigh. “No, Reed. I don’t think I will.”

“Hey, I’m a big boy. I’ll be all right.”

“You won’t be, but maybe that’s what you need.” Doc’s jaw hardened. “Some real fucking consequences. Though there were saner ways they could’ve been executed.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Warms my heart.” Reed kept the grin planted on his face as he slipped out from behind the bar and headed upstairs, using his key to unlock the door to the upper levels, then locking it behind him. The noise from the bar cut off. He rubbed a hand over his face, leaning against the wall.

I’ve got this. I’ve totally got this. He nodded to himself, then used his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. The thing was already soaked through. He had to get changed. Wearing skin-tight leathers and a shirt that read ‘I’m yours’ in the ring would make him look weak and ridiculous. If winning wasn’t so important, he’d have kept the outfit on to tease his opponent, but teasing Kovit? The way the man had looked at him?

Nope.

He walked into his loft, nodding at the two teens who were deep in some war game on his PS4. His foster brother, Ezran⁠—who’d shaved more of the black hair off the side of his head to fix the mess he’d made, showing his rebellious side by...looking like he’d pissed off his barber?⁠—and Garet, Matt’s little brother. Both sixteen and kept well away from the club when the bar was open, though sometimes they were allowed to watch the fights when things weren’t too crazy.

Tonight would not be one of those nights.

“Dude, you all right?” Garet gave him a curious look, then nudged Ezran. “Who d’ya think he pissed off? Lawson or Curtis?”

Ezran’s lip slanted as he studied Reed. “With how pale he is? I’d say both.”

“Shut up, rugrats.” Reed grabbed two cushions off the sofa and tossed them at the boys. “Isn’t it your bedtime?”

Unconcerned, both boys went back to their game. The punks probably knew he didn’t have time for a lecture. He should tell them off anyway, but hey, if they got in shit, it would take some of the focus off him.

So long as they did it where they were safe.

Sobered by the thought, he went to his bedroom, pulling out all his shorts, then all his shirts, trying to look for something that would make him look like a serious fighter. Why the hell did half his clothes sparkle? His hands shook as he reached for one pair of black shorts that looked promising.

The green alien and the words ‘Ready to be probed’ on the butt made him keep searching.

Nothing. He had nothing.

“Ezran, I’m borrowing some shorts!” He jetted to his brother’s room, practically jerking the drawer right off its slider in his hurry.

The front door opened. Closed. When Reed was just about to give up, a pair of plain black gym shorts were dangled in front of him.

Garet’s smile held sympathy. “Ezran’s stuff won’t fit you, but these should be okay.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Reed huffed out a breath, laughing when Garet handed him a black t-shirt as well. “You’re the best.”

“And you’re freaking out and it’s fucking weird, man. What gives?” Garet sat cross-legged on the floor beside him. “You aren’t facing both Curtis and Lawson in the ring, are you? Did you put sugar in their gas tanks or something?”

Reed chuckled and shook his head. “Naw, just facing someone new who knows a fighting style I’ve never even heard of. Muay Thai?”

“Oh...shit.” Garet pulled out his phone. Searched on YouTube and started playing a clip of an MMA fighter being taken down in seconds. He chewed on his bottom lip as Reed took his phone to check out a few more fights. “You can pretend you got food poisoning. Go eat something gross and get it for real?”

Ruffling the boy’s hair, Reed pushed to his feet and shook his head. “Hell no, but I’ll keep that in mind if you ever try to punk out of a fight.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“And neither will I.” Reed held up Garet’s phone. “Mind if I borrow this while I get changed? Might give me some idea of what I’m up against.”

Garet nodded, still chewing on his lip as he stood, but he went back to the living room without another word.

In the bathroom, Reed quickly got dressed, letting a playlist of various matches run, his stomach sinking at yet another example of Muay Thai being used to take down fighters of every discipline he’d ever heard of or trained in. His usual techniques would be ineffective against this kind of fighting style unless he could get the man in a solid hold. And avoid any strikes landing, because he’d be done for.

Wiping his sweaty palms on the borrowed shorts, he turned to the mirror to give himself a much-needed pep talk.

His wide-eyed, deer-facing-down-a-semi look forced him to face reality.

“I am so fucked.”