Chapter 7
Junior Year
“The rulesfor this exercise are simple,” the combat instructor says, his eyes gleaming with the promise of upcoming violence. “Fight until one of you taps out or loses consciousness. Injuries are expected, but don’t cause your opponent permanent damage. Other than that, there are no restrictions. Donovan and Gage, you’re up first.”
I walk over to the mats in the center of the training facility and fold my arms, maintaining my bored expression. Eric, on the other hand, cranes his neck from side to side and stretches his arms above his head. I understand that we’re primal at our core, ready to inflict pain at a moment’s notice, but his show of prowess is unnecessary.
I’m going to beat the fuck out of him.
Eric sizes me up with a grin, his teeth bared, covering his face in a sadistic veil. It’s not a secret that he looks for every opportunity to fight me since I threw that knife at him. As recruits of the Obsidian Order, we are under strict rules not to harm one another unless given permission. If it weren’t for that, he would’ve already tried to kill me.
Triedbeing the operative word.
“Begin!”
Eric launches himself at me before the final syllable leaves the instructor’s mouth. I use a hip toss to throw him onto the mats. He hits the floor with a thud. The other recruits begin to mutter amongst themselves, and the sound of their whispers has Eric’s eyes glittering with malice.
He’s quick to recover, getting to his feet in the blink of an eye. I reluctantly admire his speed. That, along with his other skills, have only improved since our training began two years ago.
But so have mine.
His embarrassment at having been tossed on his ass has the sides of his neck reddening. I wait for him to charge again. It doesn’t take long.
I catch him with a brutal hit to the forehead, my elbow splitting the skin above his eyebrow. Blood drips down his face. From my peripheral, I catch the instructor nodding in approval. Too bad I don’t need it.
Eric may not be the most intelligent guy in the room, but he doesn’t lack tenacity. Again, he comes after me. We trade blows back and forth, our grunts and curses drowning out the jeering of our peers.
I sweep my leg out and knock him off his feet. Taking advantage of his position, I lunge at him, throwing all of my weight onto his frame. We are both over six feet tall, our bodies toned with muscle from our unrelenting training. Subduing him won’t be easy.
Eric thrashes wildly, his adrenaline and fury getting the best of him. Without his ability to think rationally, he puts himself right into my hands. I head-butt him, directly on the cut already bleeding.
Blood gushes from his wound as he groans with pain. The wet, sticky texture of his blood coats my skin, but I ignore it in favor of ending this altercation. Pressing my forearm against his throat and keeping it there takes every ounce of energy I possess.
Eric’s fist connects with my jaw. My head snaps back, but I maintain the pressure on his neck, straining to remain in control of the fight. His wild movements lessen in intensity until he’s no longer moving.
“Release him, Donovan!” the instructor barks.
I retract my arm and get to my feet. The blow to my face has me blinking to correct my blurry vision. Damn, that fucker hit me hard. Only now am I feeling the effects of the strike.
After using the bottom of my black t-shirt to wipe away the blood on my face, I head over to the group of recruits. Declan is there with his brow arched in question. I nod, letting him know I’m good.
“Next time, make sure you don’t get punched in the face,” Benjamin says.
“Next time, shut the fuck up.”
He grins at me, and I return it with a smirk.
The instructor walks up to Eric’s body and kicks him in the leg. “Wake up, asshole.”
Eric groans as consciousness returns. He squints before rolling onto his hands and knees. Once on his feet, he scans the room until he locates me. I meet his stare head-on with cool indifference.
His nostrils flare, eyes blazing with something beyond rage. He narrows his gaze until it’s little more than slits. The look promises retribution.
I break eye contact by turning my head, a clear dismissal. Of his threats. And of him.
Eric Gage can go fuck himself. I have more important things to think about.
Viridian eyes that invade my dreams and tease me relentlessly come to mind. My obsession over Delilah didn’t end the night she stabbed me. In fact, it’s only gotten worse. Professor Ames is right: emotion is a poison of the heart.
When it comes to Delilah, I’m terminal.
For the last two years, I’ve been watching over my girl. And keeping anyone else from having her. It hasn’t been easy. Sneaking away to be near her without my father’s suspicions following me is hard enough, but keeping other men from wanting her? Nearly impossible.
If Delilah thinks she’s going to have a boyfriend, much less give him her virginity, she’s got another fucking thing coming.
Her kiss is mine to taste.
Her body is mine to touch.
Her innocence is mine to own.
The instructor draws my attention by clapping sharply. “Donovan gave a textbook demonstration of MMA techniques combined with strength training. The rest of you losers should take notes.” He shifts his focus to Eric. “Gage, go and get cleaned up. You’re bleeding all over my floor.”
“Sure thing,” Eric says, spitting on the mats.
The other recruits part to let him pass. Eric strides through the group, shouldering a few of them before leaving the room. Good fucking riddance.
The instructor points to Benjamin and John Felton, heir to the finance and banking empire. The newcomer—who’s not so new anymore—takes his spot on the mats with his knees bent and arms resting lightly by his sides.
At least this time I don’t have to worry about him getting killed.