He shakes his head at me. “Later.”
My stomach churns uneasily at the brush-off and I turn away, back to the ring.
Reyn assumes his earlier position, but ducks his head, trying to meet my eyes. “Hey.”
“It’s not like how he made it sound,” I insist.
Reyn just says, “I know,” and bumps me with his shoulder. “Want to watch him lose a grand?”
I look at him, something unwinding in my chest at the sight of his dimpled grin. “Definitely.”
Sebastian looks different when he walks up and takes off his shirt—to Elana’s delight. He’s still handsome, but his face is blank and hard as he tucks the shirt into his back pocket, letting it hang there. He keeps shifting his shoulders, wiry muscles rippling beneath his tanned flesh. He’s restless and agitated, but most of all he looks scary as hell.
I can see the pitchfork tattoo placed neatly on his chest.
The Northridge guy is bigger, without a doubt. His arms are huge and he looks a couple inches taller. I chew nervously on my lip as they watch each other, and it starts exactly like Reyn had said. Posturing, circling.
People are pressing closer now, and it’s louder. The whole crowd is charged with adrenaline, pushing and pressing closer to the ring. I don’t know if it’s some kind of blood lust, or something more feral, but it’s triggered my biggest fear; not being able to move quickly if I need to. I can feel the crowd up against my back and it makes me feel like Sebastian looks—twitchy and sweaty.
An arm wraps around my waist, making me jerk in surprise, but I look over and realize that it’s just Reyn. He’s not looking at me, but he presses closer, muttering, “I’ve got you. Just look ahead, okay?” I nod, trying not to focus so much on the press of people at my back. When Sebastian circles closest to where we’re all standing, Reyn raises his voice. “You get how this betting thing works, right?”
Playing along, I stutter, “Ah, no—not exactly.”
“If he wins and doesn’t draw first blood, his brother will be out some serious money.”
Sebastian goes still only for a split second, long enough to tilt his head toward us, and both of us know that he heard.
I say, “Oh,” but it’s lost in the frenzy of the first punch being thrown. Sebastian’s head snaps to the side, but he easily swerves away. He doesn’t even look like he needs to shake it off. I wince, knowing that mine and Reyn’s little stunt had given the Northridge guy an opening.
Despite that, Sebastian is grinning—if you could call the tight, feral thing on his face anything of the sort. His lips are pulled back, eyes burning, and his teeth are stained red with blood.
I stiffen in anticipation of the next blow, because maybe we hadn’t distracted Sebastian after all. Now that the other guy has drawn first blood, Sebastian goes all-in, fists flying, feet moving. This part, at least, is nothing like Reyn had said. The blows keep coming. No one tries to stop them.
Between blows, the Northridge guy gets in a solid hit, and the crack of his knuckles against Sebastian’s temple makes me rear back in alarm, hands coming up to cover my eyes before I can see him fall.
Reyn’s voice is warm and soft in my ear. “He’s alright, just rung his bell a bit. Still on his feet.”
Despite that, I can only peek through my fingers to watch as Sebastian retaliates, looking slightly less agile than before, but no less full of rage. I have no idea what Heston was talking about before, about his brother being all temper and no strategy. Sebastian’s fists land every time, and when he grabs the guy by his hair, bringing his face down into his knee, it’s such a precise, practiced motion that it barely looks like it takes any effort at all.
Even though I want him to win, it still hurts to watch the other guy get pummeled. I have to turn my face into Reyn’s shoulder, away from the blood and the sickening crunch of bones and flesh. It’s nothing like it is on TV. This is painfully human, what’s happening here. Like sacks of angry meat banging around.
I might be sick.
Reyn spits a low curse, hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. “Em! I’m taking her out.”
I don’t hear what Emory says in reply, but I feel Reyn’s hands clamp around my hips. He pulls me close and his football player physique plows through the crowd, not stopping until he gets us away from everyone. The fresh air feels good against my hot cheeks, but my stomach’s still churning.
“Hey,” he says once we stop, sweeping my hair back. “You okay?”
I nod uneasily. “I don’t think I’m into that,” I admit.
“That’s okay,” he says, eyes searching me carefully. “You look a little green.”
“That was…” Violent. Nauseating. Scary. “… sure something.”
He sighs, lips pressing softly against my forehead. “Can I get you something? Water? I think Carlton had some in the cooler.”
I nod. “Yeah that would be good.”