Chapter 14 #3
Ciaran finally looks toward the rails, straight at me, then points lazily at Adrian without taking his eyes off mine. "Try not to blink, little mouse. This won't take long."
The bell snaps through the pit. Adrian lunges first, fast and reckless, but Ciaran steps straight into him and drives a fist into his ribs hard enough to fold him sideways. The crack of impact silences the nearest betting tables before the crowd explodes again.
Adrian stumbles back, gasping.
Ciaran laughs. "You talk too much, Voss."
I can't look away. Can't ignore how Ciaran keeps coming at him, forcing Adrian backward across the ring while the crowd loses its mind around us.
Another hit slams into Adrian's stomach.
Then one across the jaw. Adrian swings back hard enough to make people shout, but Ciaran ducks it easily and drives him straight into the barrier. The wood rattles from the impact.
My stomach twists. I knew he was dangerous—I saw it every time he looked at me, every time he smiled—but this is different. This isn't flirting or teasing or some stupid game in the pool.
This is what Ciaran Virel looks like when he's not holding back.
All I can focus on is the movement of his body, the way muscle shifts beneath the black henley stretched across his back and arms. His skin glistens beneath the lights while dark hair sticks damply to his forehead.
Revulsion hits a beat later. A man is bleeding in front of me, and my eyes are on Ciaran's shoulders anyway.
Adrian spits blood onto the floor of the ring, breathing hard now, and I realize with a sick twist in my stomach that Ciaran is enjoying this.
Good Light, my heartbeat stutters as a strange image flashes through my head. For one horrible second, it feels like I've heard crowds like this before, voices roaring somewhere beyond the edge of my memory while panic keeps climbing higher beneath my skin.
Not here, on Sero, but somewhere older, somewhere buried so deep inside me that the feeling is already slipping away before I can catch hold of it properly again.
It's me running through dark streets while footsteps thunder somewhere behind me, voices shouting for me to stop as my pulse spikes so hard it hurts.
A horn blares somewhere ahead, and a woman's hand slams against my shoulder, shoving me forward.
Run.
The vision disappears as quickly as it came, but my medical band is already flashing angry red against my wrist.
Ciaran catches Adrian with another hit hard enough to snap his head sideways before grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving him back into the rail again.
"This is not a fucking date," Damaris says beside me, staring at the ring in disbelief. "Ro, we need to get out of here."
Lucan chuckles and squeezes Damaris's shoulder, pulling him closer. "Oh, I think this is absolutely a date."
"Shut up," I mutter, but my voice sounds weak even to me.
And yet I can't stop watching him.
Ciaran presses in close enough to say something into Adrian's ear. I can't hear the words over the screaming crowd, but I see Adrian's expression change instantly. The confidence drains out of his face, replaced by something that looks a lot like fear.
Then Ciaran turns his head slightly, his gaze cutting through the crowd until it lands on me again. "Don't look away now."
I freeze, my medical band pulsing harder against my wrist while my fingers tighten around the rail. But I don't look away.
We should go. Now. And never return. But it's like my feet are frozen to the ground.
"Dama?"
"I'm here," he says, but he feels far away.
"We should go."
"Yeah."
But before either of us can move, Ciaran drives Adrian down with another brutal hit that sends him collapsing into the dirt. The crowd erupts as guards push into the ring to pull people back and drag Adrian away, but Ciaran barely spares any of them a glance.
One of the guards hands him his multi-slate while another starts undoing the wraps around his wrists. Ciaran strips the tape free with his teeth, shoves the slate back onto his arm, and starts walking straight toward the rails.
Straight toward me.
Lucan shifts smoothly into Damaris's path when he tries to reach me, stopping him just long enough for Ciaran to climb out of the pit and reach us.
He looks wrecked in the worst possible way.
Sweat glistens along his throat and brow while his chest still heaves from the fight.
Blood stains his knuckles. His hair is damp and pushed back from his forehead, and he still carries that same wild energy from the ring, like he hasn't fully come down yet.
He looks dangerous. He looks ridiculously handsome.
Shame hits right behind it. I just watched him beat a man bloody, and I'm standing here noticing how good he looks.
Ciaran stops in front of me with a crooked smirk. "He deserved it. Did you hear the way he was talking about you?"
Beside me, Lucan grins. "I did promise your date a good show."
Ciaran spares him a glance. "Thanks for welcoming my date in my absence. I'll take it from here." Then he offers me his arm like none of this is strange at all. "Can I buy you a drink, little mouse?"