33. Kovu
The fight club is fucking wild tonight.
It’s the first official fight night of the year, and the holidays have the fighters riled up. It’s like this every year. These assholes being forced to spend time with their families only ever makes them more violent, and after another week sticking close to home in case Camilla needs anything, I need the fucking violence.
She settles something in me. Makes it easier for me to be away from the blood and pain, but I doubt the need will ever leave me completely.
I watch as the third pair of fighters climb into the ring and immediately begin grappling. The first punch results in blood, and I barely hold myself back from groaning. Ever since my little lamb came into my life, all interest in my own hand went out the window, and I can’t even think of unloading in another woman. No. She’s the only one that will do. I just need to be patient.
Her bruising has finally faded, apart from around her ribs, and she’s moving so much easier that she barely needs us to take care of her anymore. Which fucking sucks. All my excuses to touch her are fading away, and I don’t know that she’s ready for more just yet.
Although she may not have a choice soon. I need to taste her so badly I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep breathing if I don’t sink my teeth into her flesh soon.
The sound of a bone being crushed fills my body with adrenaline to the point I can barely breathe through it. Fuck. I need more.
I move closer to the ring, a perk of owning the place affords me any fucking vantage point I want. There’s blood dripping down one guy’s face, both eyebrows are split and a black eye is already blooming despite the fight only just beginning. The other guy isn’t bloody, but he’s clutching his wrist with agony written all over his ugly mug.
These two are regulars, but I couldn’t tell you their names if you paid me. I have a shitty fucking memory at the best of times, but names have always been my weak point.
Plus, every single person in this building is disposable. They could kill one another for all I care, and I would simply call the clean-up crew and forget about it by the time I got home.
Outside of the Syndicate, I don’t care about anyone. Except for my little lamb.
“These fuckers are savage tonight,” someone comments from beside me.
I glance up and find Noah Thorne standing beside me, his icy blue eyes filling with rare amusement. The man is almost as cold as I am, and that’s saying something. When his dad kicks the bucket, we’re going to have a much easier time managing his family because Noah doesn’t whine even half as much as his father does about the most stupid shit.
The older members of the five families get more and more exhausting with each year that passes. Can’t they all just kill each other already so their kids can take over?
“It’s always like this after the holidays,” I tell him as he runs a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He’s wearing a suit despite where we are, and I shake my head. He and Bishop are a match made in fucking heaven. Maybe I can set them up and keep my lamb to myself.
Even as the thought filters through my mind, I dismiss it, and none of the reasons include the fact they’re both straight alpha males. The truth is, the idea of sharing Camilla is almost as intoxicating as the woman herself.
There’s something about sharing a woman that the four of us have always enjoyed. Caleb was never interested, always wanting to keep his women to himself, but the rest of us found solace in it, and now I crave it. It’s not that I don’t fuck alone, because I do, but it’s never quite as enjoyable as overwhelming a woman with eight hands and four cocks.
“You getting in the ring tonight?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. Not tonight.”
He flashes me a surprised look. “You harboring some injury I can’t see?” He looks up and down at my torn jeans and tight black shirt.
“No injury. Just not fighting.”
He blows out an amused breath but keeps his mouth shut.
“What are you doing here anyway? This is a little far from your usual business.”
He glances around at the growing crowd before turning back to me. “I was looking for someone, but they don’t seem to be here tonight.”
“You were looking for one of these ugly assholes?”
“No. Someone else,” he tells me cryptically. “What’s this I hear about Davenport trying to start a coup?”
The sound of his name has my hackles rising. He wants my lamb. He wants to take her from me. He wants to hurt her. But I won’t let him. That right is mine and mine alone. “He’s an asshole,” is all I manage to force out through clenched teeth.
“He called my dad, and he hung up on him,” he tells me. “So then he called me, thinking he would get a different answer. Said something about you not helping him get back something that belongs to him.”
He’s fishing for more information, but he should know that none of us break easily. No one is getting information from us unless we’re offering it up.
“He and De Marco did a deal a long time ago, and when De Marco died, the contract died with him.” I shrug. “That’s how we’ve always done things, and we’re not changing it because he’s throwing a temper tantrum.”
Noah chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “That sounds like him. He was real cryptic when he called me, wanted to meet in person, but I don’t have the time to help him with a hostile takeover right now.”
I laugh and turn my attention back to the fight. “Good to know we don’t need to worry about you.”
“We’re happy with how things run, and we don’t intend on ruining a good thing.” He looks around again before checking the time. “I should get going.”
I nod and watch as he disappears into the crowd. I’ll need to speak to Crew when I get back to the compound. If Charles is trying to cause unrest in the families as well as the Syndicate, we may have bigger problems than we thought.