7. Tommaso
TOMMASO
When Alessio told me I needed to find Aleksandr and get more information out of him, I didn’t expect much out of the night. Until I found out he was here.
The underground fight ring where only one comes out alive.
It didn’t take much to convince Tiger to let me fight the recent male champion. After all, he knows I make for an entertaining time. The place is unaffiliated, but he knows how much money my family brings in to every business in the country, not just in Tessari.
When they finally let me into the arena, a five-by-four-feet circular cage made of wire and steel, I suck in a deep breath of the stink of old and new blood, the sweat ingrained on the concrete, and the pheromones of an overly excited crowd.
I put my arms up and play to the crowd. They cheer my name. They’ve watched me in here before, and the ones with the highest bets always cheer the loudest. I wonder just how much money has been put on my name tonight…
With a grin, I stand in the far corner of the arena and wait for my opponent to be brought in.
I’m expecting someone much bigger than the man who comes walking slowly into the ring in his black jeans and dark sweater.
Aleksandr.
The confusion on my face is mirrored in his icy eyes as he walks over to me.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I ask him in a whisper.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he mutters, his Russian accent returned. It makes my spine melt and I have to straighten my shoulders in order to steady myself.
He doesn’t step any closer than three feet from me, as those are the rules before the fight starts. So, I can’t ask him anything else. All I can do is stare at him in bewilderment.
Aleksandr is not the man I expected to be fighting tonight. Killing tonight.
In fact, I didn’t imagine killing him at any point, but frankly I’m starting to.
I huff and my hands ball into fists. Whatever he’s doing in here, it can’t be good. It has to be something to do with the Bianchi family. He wouldn’t just put himself in this cage for no reason.
Would he?
A woman outside of the arena yells the starting word. A simple, “Fight!” and a low bell rings above our heads.
There are no other rules to the fights that are held in this space. No rounds. No “you’re out.” You fight until the other person is dead. You maul them, mangle them, and you try to get out yourself with as little permanent damage as possible.
The scars on my back and arms are trophies from my past in this ring.
Aleksandr and I circle each other for a moment, drawing in even closer, before we both grab the other by his arms.
“This is a stupid idea,” I tell him under my breath.
“You’re the one who started it,” he growls at me.
I shove him away from me and he steps to the side, a calculating and curious look in his eyes. There’s already sweat beading on Aleksandr’s hairline, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t help but smile at him, and seeing the reflection in his eyes makes me look crazy.
Maybe I am crazy…because I kind of like this.
I lunge forward and catch him when he’s least expecting it, turning him around and holding his neck between my bicep and forearm.
He fights me, trashing and digging his nails in.
My blood is racing through my veins. Heart pumping hard and fast.
Okay, I definitely like this. But I knew that. I’ve always enjoyed fighting. Feeling another man’s body against my own. Bringing him to the brick of death with my pure strength.
There’s something different about this, though. It’s not just any man I have with his neck lodged between my arm, it’s Aleksandr.
Heat rushes to my cock just as he manages to slip out of my hold.
I watch as he pants for breath and then swings at me, his movements calculated and careful, but I can see them before they happen…and that is his Achilles heel. He takes too long to decide.
By the time his fist is swinging at my face, I’ve dodged out of the way.
But my fist strikes him with ease, cracking against the side of that pretty little face and causing him to stumble.
Blood sprays from his nose, and I watch the red drip down his mouth and chin. I want to taste it. I want to know exactly what he tastes like…warm and wet.
Instead, I continue to fight him. My body urges me forward and I wail on him like I would any other opponent…except he’s not any other. He’s far from it.
Aleksandr punches back, hard and quick. When he’s not overthinking his moves, he’s a lot quicker than I am. I’m heavier and there’s more weight behind my fists, but he’s lithe and fast.
I can’t help but laugh between punches to my face and neck. I grab him by the wrist and twist it just enough to pull him closer to me and look directly into his eyes. Nose to nose.
“You really wanna do this?” I ask him.
He spits at me. A mixture of blood and saliva. I lick it off my chin and send my own forehead barreling into his. Aleksandr stumbles backwards, bouncing off the chain link fencing all around us and huffs for air.
The crowd is screaming my name. Over and over again. It’s exhilarating, but they’re not who I really care about. Putting on a show for them is the least of my concerns. It’s not a bad perk, though.
Aleksandr grabs me by the front of my shirt with one hand and then digs his fingers into the side of my shoulder with his other one.
“I’m not about to back down,” he hisses cooly.
I grin at him and my head feels dizzy.
Every inch of me is hot and sweaty. My blood, which I very much need in my brain at the moment, is all flooding down to my dick and making it incredibly difficult to think.
I swipe at Aleksandr but miss, and he lands a hit square in my mouth. Blood drips from my busted lip and I wipe at it with my forearm, only smearing it around.
“Fight him! Get him! Kill him!” The crowd yells. Sometimes I can’t tell whether it’s for me or him.
It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the sight of Aleksandr before me. He’s panting for breath, dripping with sweat that glistens on his skin, and his blood… Well, it soaks into the collar of his shirt and only makes him look that much more hot.
“You’re so fucking hot,” I breath out as I step in closer to him.
His eyes widen and he glances downward for a split second. “Is this really turning you on, Tommy?” he asks me. Calling me that nickname for the first time since we met. Until now, he has only called me by my full name.
I glance down at his crotch and see a slight tenting there as well, knowing very well that the other man is just as aroused as I am.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it, baby,” I tease him.
He growls under his breath and launches himself at me. Hitting, kicking, and I’m pretty sure, biting. I can feel his teeth against my ear and I let out a low moan against my will.
“You sick fucking freak,” he tells me.
I push him away from me with all my strength, but he clings to me, and we go tumbling to the floor.
Aleksandr’s back thuds against the hard wet floor. I quickly move on top of him, straddling his hips and wrap my hands around his throat. His neck is thinner than mine, but just holding it… I can imagine what it would be like to have his hands around my own throat.
There’s a large part of me that wishes we were the other way around right now. That my back was against the cold concrete floor and he was on top of me.
Nevertheless, I push down harder, putting more pressure against his windpipe. His hands grab at my arms and shoulders desperately.
I can see the panic in his eyes, and it makes my heart feel like a hummingbird in my chest.
“Don’t like it?” I ask him breathlessly, “Or…” I push my hips down against his just enough to feel his hard length through his pants. “Or maybe you like it just as much as I do.”
My voice is low and breathless. I’m certain that no one else can hear me but him. His eyes start to burn with heat instead of the iciness I’m used to. He pushes his hips against mine, and I know in this moment he feels the same way.
All I need to do is squeeze just a bit tighter and I’ll be able to choke him the fuck out. He won’t last long without air. He’ll die under my hands.
Blood will ooze from his nose and mouth, and I’ll feel his very last breath against my face.
I can feel his pulse against my palms. Fast and heavy.
With just a bit more force, I can feel the very last one…if I just do it.
I stare down at him breathlessly. At the blood, the sweat, and the tears that are pooling at the corners of his eyes.
Someone will kill Aleksandr eventually—that’s how it always goes. Just like someone will eventually take me out.
Why not me? Why don’t I simply end Aleksandr’s suffering sooner rather than later? He’s told me just about all I need to know. I’m sure I could find out more information from someone else.
Winning this fight means showing the crowd I’m not putting up with anyone’s bullshit. It means showing the Bianchi that I’m not scared of them.
It also means two other things.
One, that the Rose will no longer side with me.
Two, that Aleksandr Volkov will be dead.
I’ll never hear his voice again, never see his face again…and I’ll never know what it’s like to feel his naked body pressed against my own.
I pull my hands back from his neck and slide off him.
The crowd starts to go quiet in their confusion.
Sliding onto my knees and then pushing up onto my feet, I reach for Aleksandr and offer him my hand. He looks up at me with cautiousness in his eyes, but then takes my hand, and let’s me pull him up from the floor.
“Do it,” I tell him. “Kill me.”
If I’m not going to kill him, then I need to prepare for my own death. It’s the way things work in here, and I doubt Aleksandr wants to die.
Or maybe he does, maybe he’d prefer to die at my hands.
Maybe I’d prefer to die at his…
He stares at me for a moment, and then shakes his head.
“This is foolish,” he states. His shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breathes. I can see the faint marks of my hands around his throat starting to form already, and my stomach tenses with desire and need.
“They’ll be angry,” I tell him as I step even closer.
“Let them,” he insists.