Chapter Fifteen #4
Hmm… So he has killed people.
This is my first insight into why he’s here, and just like everything else about him, it’s intriguing as hell. I’d like to know more…
But there is a golden rule of prison—you don’t ask people what they’ve done. You wait for them to volunteer the information themselves.
Or you snoop around and find out.
I’m sure Trevel will tell me his story eventually. He’s been blathering to me nonstop, odd since he’s barely said a word to anyone else. But I think I like talking to him too.
How is it that two quiet loners have been gabbing away all night, like a couple of chatty Kathys? It’s bizarre.
And yet…
Maybe I could do it…
Tell him… why I’m here.
The thought takes me by surprise. Even my best friends don’t know the real reason. I’ve given them a version of the story, watered-down and embellished. A PG, cookie-cutter, Lifetime movie adaptation of what really happened.
No substance. No marrow.
No Michelangelo.
The truth is still mine. My secrets are only mine.
I couldn’t just hand them over to the captivating stranger with the purple eyes… Could I?
“I like the feeling.” I speak softly, offering him a raspy confession, though I still can’t be sure why . “That’s my motivation. It’s like a high, I think.”
Something shifts on his face, almost like a realization dawning.
He nods subtly. “Oh, well… That I can certainly understand.”
This conversation, just like the one we had the other day about fucking Skittles, is twisting me up in a very puzzling way. Once again, it seems like we’re talking about something deeper than the actual words we’re using.
Roars and shouts snap us both out of it, and we glance back at the circle. Fuller and Redman are in there. And as it tends to, the fights are getting dirtier, the crowd growing rowdier as the night wears on.
“This is the type of shit O’Malley liked,” I tell Trevel, cringing when Fuller jams his thumb into Redman’s eye.
“Your friend?” he asks. “The one who was killed by…”
“The Carver… yea. He was a real scrappy motherfucker. No fucking mercy.”
“But that’s not how you fight…” I think it was supposed to be a question, but it comes out more like a statement.
“I couldn’t.” I shake my head. “Not with my background. I respect the art of it too much.”
“I like that.” Trevel grins, looking me up and down. His eyes gloss over my exposed torso, and it feels constricting. Easing in closer, his tone grows rumbly, like a tiger’s purr. “You’re quite the deep fellow… Aren’t you, Byron?”
I swallow over a sudden lump in my throat, peering at him. “Um… maybe?”
His smirk widens, and he bites his lip. “I’d like to find out just how deep you go…” His breath melts into humming interest that slips into my ear from how close I hadn’t even noticed we were standing.
There’s palpable heat coming off of his tall frame. Or maybe it’s coming from me? We’re both shirtless, flesh sort of close… Either way, it’s unnerving me to my core. I’m not sure if he’s flirting with me, or if this is just the way he is.
Seems a lot like flirting… But then I have an overly sexual friend who flirts like it’s breathing.
Maybe Trevel is… like Ren.
That thought just confuses me more.
Would it be a bad thing? If he were flirting with me…?
Blinking up at him, I consider my recent predicament . Sexuality hangups aside, I have needs. And I’m stuck in here, meaning my options are limited.
It’s nothing more than a physical release, anyway…
Trevel is good-looking. I mean, he’s actually really fucking pretty. Masculine at the forefront, but with these sharp angles that could certainly lure in a straight guy with ambiguous tastes.
Shifting from side to side, I wring my hands while my eyes flit around the room, searching for anything other than him to focus on because this shit is tripping me up.
I don’t know this guy. We’re not friends, and I’m certainly not crushing on him or whatever.
Yet I can’t seem to stop eyeing him subtly, all kinds of whacky things piling up in my head.
Am I really that sexually frustrated??
My inner turmoil is disrupted when Linetti barks, “New guy! You’re up.”
Shit. I was so invested in my creepy obsessing, I hadn’t even noticed the fight was over.
Trevel is wearing a deer-in-headlights expression as he gawks at Linetti, then at me.
He swallows visibly, but that’s really the only hesitation before he kicks into movement, weaving through bodies toward the center of the circle.
Like a reflex, my hand almost juts out to stop him, because I don’t think he should be doing this.
Is he really gonna do this??
“Who else needs to go?” Linetti looks around. “Bren, who do you want?”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Brenner rumbles, counting his money. “I think they’ve all gone…”
“Alright, then. Virgin’s choice.” Linetti aims a smug smirk at Trevel. “Pick your poison, 102.”
Trevel appears deep in concentration, for all of five seconds. And then his violet eyes land on me, lips quirking as he chirps, “I’ll take Mr. Undefeated Champion, please.”
Murmurs are immediate, everyone else mirroring my surprise while I gape at this oddball motherfucker…
The dude I’ve been chatting with all night like we’re besties now wants me to kick the shit out of him??
My mouth hangs open for too long, until Linetti snaps, “You heard Harry Styles! Get in there, 62!”
The crowd is cheering. Trevel is waiting, and I’m hesitating. Me. The warrior.
How the hell am I supposed to fuck this dude up without feeling like an asshole?? He literally just said he doesn’t like to fight!
Stumbling into the circle, I lock eyes with Trevel. He doesn’t appear worried in the slightest, which is working up even more tension in my muscles. He knows what I can do… He just watched me take down someone twice his size.
Why doesn’t he look scared??
He must really be psychotic.
“Don’t hold back, mate.” He winks at me.
My brows zip, disturbed as Linetti yells, “Fight!”
Okay, I guess we’re doing this…
Trevel and I instantly begin orbiting one another.
For someone who claims to be a lover , his form isn’t terrible.
He actually looks like he knows what he’s doing, which I wouldn’t have guessed from the way he was prying me for details before.
Our gazes are magnetized while we circle and circle, both of us refusing to make the first move.
It goes on long enough that the crowd is growing impatient, so I move in closer and start needling him. Tossing him little taps and shoves, trying to get him to hit me first.
I refuse to hit him first. This is his fault. He wanted this…
“I know what you’re doing,” Trevel rumbles under his breath.
“What am I doing?” I keep going, tapping him with my knuckles, advancing just enough, though he’s not even backing up.
In a flash, we’re up close. Close enough that I can hear him breathing. His height advantage doesn’t worry me, but it does make it feel like he’s enveloping me with his proximity.
Goading him with more light shots, I jab him in the chest, then on his abs. They’re extremely firm… Not sure what I expected, but the feel of it throws me off for some reason.
“Come now, Byron,” he says calmly, blocking my hits to his torso. “They won’t let us stop until you do it. Just hit me.”
“Why don’t you hit me ?” I grumble.
“I told you.” He gets up in my face, crowding me until we’re practically zipped. My heartbeat is popping off much faster than it should be, but I think I can feel his doing the same. “I’m not a fighter.”
“Oh, right… You’re a lover ,” I taunt, shoving him away.
But he comes right back. “Mhm… But we’re not loving right now, are we?” He smirks, and I want to punch it. At least… I think that’s what I want to do to it… “ No , we’re fighting. So fight .”
I shake my head, the nerves, the tension, and the thrill all working up together, coating my muscles. “Fuck off…”
“You think I can’t handle it?” he breathes out.
“I know you can’t,” I growl, my hands on his waist.
We’re chest to chest, fluttering into one another. The shouts and chants, our panting in tandem… His low, gravelly voice. It’s all becoming heady music, a background to this dance we’re doing.
“I promise I can take it,” he rasps, almost pleading. “ Hit me.”
He… wants it?
I’m in limbo, burning hotter with every lash of his firm body and smooth skin against mine. I know I need to make a move, but I’m afraid…
Afraid of how good it might feel.
“ Come , love,” Trevel whispers over my lips. “No mercy… I want your wrath .”
And then he grabs my throat.
Instinct kicks in, and I shove him back, hard , launching my fist at his jaw. It was a default reaction, but still, I’m struggling to keep it easy. I don’t think I want to hurt him…
I’m confused. This is confusing me.
Hard, hot body pressing into mine, sweat and dried blood in the air, mingling with the scent of him —sweet and fresh and masculine.
Fuck, I’m high on it all. It’s frying my wires.
“Harder,” Trevel snarls, coming for me again, grabbing my neck. “Like a good boy.”
Ding.
It’s as if a timer went off in my brain. Some bizarre Pavlovian bell.
I think I actually moan for a second, but I cover it up with a roar as I lunge at him, tackling him to the floor. I’m throwing fast punches into his sides and his face. He’s able to block some of them, but still, the red is overtaking me.
This fury… It’s oh-so-sweet.
“You wanted this,” I hiss, straddling him, pinning him to the floor. “You want me to hurt you, pretty boy? Huh? Is that what you like??”
“I think it’s what you like,” he croaks, violet eyes sparkling up at me. “Unleash on me, baby. Make me bleed for you, Byron Kang .”
“I’ll make you fucking bleed…” I snarl, launching a fist at his face. “You bleed for me , got it?! Your blood is mine .”
He grunts, taking it with a sadistic smile. A bolt of zeal fizzles inside me like electricity. It turns me the fuck on. I hit him again, and again , raging and loving it.