10. Caine
CHAPTER 10
CAINE
T here’s music.
It’s playing inside her house as I find myself outside, just like I have every night for the last week. This is the first time I’ve heard music. It’s bass heavy, but not loud. I stand on the sidewalk, my hood pulled up as I wait to see if tonight will be the night for something new. A glimpse of her, a glimpse of something.
That’s when I see it—it’s still dark, but there’s a soft glow in the room which highlights her silhouette in the window. Then she moves.
Actually, she glides.
She’s dancing, I don’t see enough and it’s over before the song even changes. She freezes in place, for a second, I think it’s because she sees me, but there’s no way. Then the music stops.
And she’s gone from the window, leaving me staring at the dark house again.
There’s a buzzing under my skin, it’s different than before a fight. This is something I haven’t felt in a long time. There’s this pull to get closer to her. To take it a step further. This feeling leaves me wanting more than to just stare at her house every fucking night. I shouldn’t go in; I should leave her alone for a little while longer. I continue to wait until it becomes unbearable. This feeling of needing to be closer to her. It overwhelms and consumes me.
It’s that exact feeling that brings me forward, testing her front door, and it’s locked. Going around the back, I check the back door and notice a slight jiggle, the lock gives way easily and then I’m inside. Surrounded by her scent, it’s sweet and floral and immediately I’m hit with the need to find the source.
Quietly, I make my way through the small home until I reach her bedroom, the door is cracked, and I can see her there. She’s lying in bed, back turned toward me. Her red hair contrasts the white bedsheets, almost looking like blood.
I need to get closer to her. I need to touch her, to feel her, just once. I push open her door, led by this drive to conquer her, it barely makes a sound, and she doesn’t stir.
Part of me was hoping I’d find her sleeping. The other part wants to find her awake. Maybe she’ll scream, maybe she’ll fight. Just the thought already has me hardening for the fantasy. I step through the threshold. She doesn’t move. Not even as I get closer. Her chest rises and falls evenly under the blankets with each breath.
Silently, I get closer until I’m standing at the edge of her bed. I want to reach out and touch her. I want her to know I’m here. But I also don’t want to ruin this. Not now. I just look at her. How perfect she is laying there, her creamy skin is untouched, but would look so beautiful with my marks.
When she runs from me, she’s going to know exactly what’s going to happen when I catch her. When she screams for me, we are both going to enjoy every second of it. So, I’ll be patient, which is why I leave her room, and her house for the night. But I’ll be back, and maybe when I am, I’ll make sure she knows it.
As I’m wrapping my hands, my mind wanders back to last night. Always back to her. What if I put this wrap around her pretty throat. Used it to tie her against the corner of the ring keeping her there while I used her body how I wanted. How long would she fight before giving in? How many times would she come for me, my name on her lips even though I know she’ll insist she doesn’t want it.
“Caine,” Coach barks, pulling me away from my thoughts of her screaming my name because it doesn’t sound as good coming from him.
I look over at him and he nods me over to the front desk. Standing behind the computer with him I see that he has a schedule pulled up for some fights for me to attend.
“All of them.” I barely even look at the list. I want all the fights, all the exposure, and all the money.
I hate that I’m still living in my family’s shadow. Most of the money in my account is theirs, and the only reason they haven’t cut me off is because they’re hoping I’ll come back and admit defeat. That’ll never happen. I won’t go back there just to do what they want. Fuck going to law school, fuck following in my dad’s footsteps. I’m going to continue fighting and make it on my own.
I hear Adam sigh from behind me as I finish wrapping my hands and start practicing. Drew is across the gym, working his upper body, probably because Coach will get on his ass if he does too much with his legs.
Personally, if he wants to fuck himself up more that should be up to him. It’s his body to ruin if he wants.
As I start my combinations on the bag, I feel my body loosen with each punch and kick as instinct takes over. I hardly notice when Drew walks over until he’s holding the other side of the bag I’m currently attacking, and it doesn’t swing like it should.
I continue to try and hit the bag, but when it doesn’t budge, I stop, shaking out my arms. “What do you want?”
“I want to spar. Later, after Adam is gone.”
I’ll never turn down the opportunity to get some practice in. Especially with an actually decent fighter.
“’Kay,” I agree. “Now go away.”
Something I like about Drew is he’s never one to question anything, or to stick around too long. I also like that he’s willing to go behind Coach’s back to fight.
Once I’m done here with him, I can go by Max’s house and see her again. I already feel the need to see her washing over me, and it’s getting stronger. Soon, I’m going to need to touch her. Whether she’s ready for me or not.
The punch lands across my jaw, and I smirk at the slight sting from Drew’s fist. I go for a takedown, but he’s able to get out of my grip. I don’t take it easy on him. I’m not mindful of his knee and he doesn’t act like he wants me to be.
My own fist lands against his face, making him falter, but even as I try to grab him, he avoids my hold. We circle around the ring, ready for whoever is going to make the next move. When I try, I stumble just slightly and any fighter with less experience wouldn’t have noticed, but Drew did. And that’s how he’s able to get a grip on me and put me in a hold.
I fight to get out of it and manage to do so before he gets me into a full takedown. We continue on like this until we’re both sweaty and getting tired. But even when my body starts to feel tired, my mind doesn’t quit. Which is how I’m able to get him into submission until he taps, and I let up.
“Fuck,” he grabs a water bottle, gulping it down. “I miss this.”
“Just tell Adam to fuck off and you’re going to fight anyway.” It’s what I would do.
Drew just scoffs, wiping his face down with a towel. Instead of trying to help him figure out his shit or listening to him complain about it, I gather my stuff to head out.
There’s someone I need to go see.