Chapter Twenty-Nine
White Ravens
Scar
Scar stood in the center of the Blacks’ arena.
The floors were polished composite built to take impact, wall panels that stifled sound, ceiling rigs with cameras, sensors, and programmable drones.
Racks of weapons lined one side, gleaming in orderly rows. Everything from blades, spears, bows, machine guns, to fucking boomerangs and nunchucks.
Nothing in the vast space was decorative, even the lightning was designed with a purpose.
Scar had been in the arena for two hours already, sweating through his shirt, hands wrapped, knuckles throbbing in a satisfying way.
He’d run the simulators until their predictive algorithms started lagging. He’d sparred with holographic opponents that’d tried to learn his habits and failed. He’d lifted fifty-pound dumbbells and squatted four times that, until his muscles burned.
He’d hoped it would’ve bled some of his anger out, but…
The rage wasn’t a result of the room. It belonged to the images that wouldn’t leave him alone.
Adrian’s too-familiar lean-in and Gage’s hand gripping his bicep were coupled with his humiliation.
Midnight got closer. Scar got tenser.
He checked the time more often than he wanted to admit, hating every time he did.
He told himself he wasn’t waiting, he was staying ready.
Right.
At eleven fifty-eight, he stopped looking.
At midnight, the doors still didn’t open.
At twelve-ten, his jaw locked hard enough to ache.
At twelve forty-five, his anger went bright red.
He drove his fists into the heavy bag with a steady, brutal rhythm, each hit landing with enough force to make the chain struggle. He pictured ribs, not the bag. A smug smile instead of leather.
A smooth voice slid through the space behind him, calm enough to make it feel like a hot palm on the back of his neck.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Scar could see Gage’s reflection in the mirror, but he didn’t turn around, didn’t stop punching.
The bag took another sequence of blows that would’ve dropped a man, maybe for good.
“Save it,” he said, voice rough. “What’d you guys do? Praise God at seven and was fornicating by eleven.”
A soft chuckle filtered through his haze.
“You really gonna’ preach to me?” Gage asked.
Scar landed another hit that shocked his shoulder before he stepped back, breathing steadily, sweat making his shirt stick to his skin.
He turned to brush past Gage as if he wasn’t there, but he immediately answered the insult with his cane.
It took a split second, metal shot out six feet with a vicious click. The spearhead tip stabbed into the padded wall beside his shoulder, the titanium bar now a blockade against his chest.
Scar froze. That had been close…too close.
Gage spoke with hardness tinged with a hint of compassion.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then explain it.”
“Church was a couple of hours,” he murmured. “I went back to my quarters after and laid down. I didn’t mean to doze off.” He paused, breath brushing Scar’s skin. “And I didn’t mean to make you wait.”
A tiny fraction of Scar’s anger dissolved.
Soft strands of Gage’s hair brushed his cheeks, light threads against the dark band of his sunglasses. His skin looked warm, and the sharp lines of his face, that straight nose, firm jaw, and soft mouth, made Scar’s gaze snag and stay there.
He was beautiful in a way that had to be admired.
“You said you wanted to fight…” Gage lowered his voice to a smooth, easy threat. “So let’s fight.”
Scar answered by removing his shirt.
Gage lunged, fast, controlled, and borderline disrespectful. Without warning, he hooked his cane’s shaft behind Scar’s ankles and, with a quick jerk, stole his balance.
The air punched out of him as his back slammed into the floor.
He stared up at Gage in shock as his body lit up like a fuse.
Gage stood over him, cane grasped in his hand like a Japanese spear. He tilted his head…listening. “You wanted to see what I’ve got…get up.”
Scar grinned. He was about to fucking enjoy this.
He rolled to his feet and got into position. He chose to forgo a weapon. His skills and hands were enough. He wanted up-close-and-personal combat with his partner.
Their first few exchanges were them measuring each other out.
He went for Gage’s shoulder, but he turned at an angle and slipped out of his grasp.
Gage did an instant counter, checking his wrist with the blunt end of the cane—a quick tap that wasn’t too painful but a clear warning.
He could make it hurt…if he wanted to.
Gage raised the cane, spun it around his back, and swung, but Scar caught it mid-swing, and for a split second, he had Gage’s weapon in his grip.
Gage didn’t yank or fight for it.
He stepped in, close enough that their chests brushed, and used Scar’s hold against him. He rotated the cane like a lever and pulled him into a knee that just stopped short of connecting with his stomach.
“You’re trying not to hurt me,” he said.
Gage smiled. “Nope, I’m giving you all I got.”
“Yeah right.”
“You’re not exactly fighting like you’ve been trained by Meridian.”
“Then hit me,” he growled.
Gage struck fast with a two-beat combo of cane and fist.
Scar clocked the timing, caught Gage by his wrist, and spun him until his back was against his chest. He wrapped his other arm around Gage’s waist in a way that told him he shouldn’t try to get away.
“I hear you learn fast,” he murmured, dragging his nose along the back of Gage’s neck. “Yet you still don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
Gage turned his head slightly. “Then tell me.”
Scar pressed closer.
“You’re making me want to pin you down and show you,” he said, grazing his lips along the shell of Gage’s ear.
He could smell the sweat from their moves, mixing with Gage’s unique powdery scent, which was both intoxicating and sweet.
He eased his hand along Gage’s waist and dipped his thumb under the hem of his hoodie, wanting to feel his bare skin.
And of course it was warm, silky, and inviting, as he’d assumed.
His want was like a blade twisting slowly in his stomach. Gage ignited a craving he could no longer ignore.
He tilted his hardness forward, seeking more.
As if he wasn’t that easy to take—like Roz warned—Gage turned and shot him backward with the flat of his cane against his chest.
It wasn’t enough to send him flying, but hard enough there’d be a bruise there by morning.
Scar circled, his breath even, sweat dripping down his back.
Gage tilted his head, rotating with him, tracking his every step. He thought he’d lightened them, but obviously not enough.
He tried a fake attack from the left, but Gage didn’t bite. He tried another, closer.
Gage snapped the cane up and tapped Scar’s throat with precise control, the tip touching beside his pulse before pulling away.
Scar’s arousal spiked in betrayal.
He knew Gage was pulling his punches, but he didn’t want him to, he wanted Gage to hurt him. Wanted him to make him pay—in bed—for all the times he’d given him hell when they were on the block.
Gage threw him a sly smile. “Your thoughts are loud.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
Gage didn’t pause. “I am.”
Scar surged in.
They collided chest to chest, both hands on each other now, not fighting, but testing weight, heat, and dominance.
Gage spun the cane low around his hips and snapped it into a tight block, the motion too smooth to read until it was already there.
Scar thought he had the cane timed, but he missed the lunge as Gage rolled his weapon over his right shoulder and re-caught it higher on the shaft, changing reach and angle without giving Scar a chance to reset.
Gage pivoted to Scar’s blind side and did some fancy-ass footwork that had him chasing air.
He surged into empty space, and when he turned, Gage was already at his back with his cane threaded across his throat, applying just enough pressure to make the point without choking him.
Gage’s breath warmed the nape of his neck as he held him tightly in place.
“Where’d you learn that?” Scar asked.
“Mirage is a good teacher.” Gage hummed, low and sensual.
Scar tried to turn, but Gage was already gone, the cane flashing between them before it shrunk down to the size of a relay baton.
Gage tucked it behind him and got into a fight stance.
They were hands only now.
Gage came at him with a powerful, too-fast strike combination that would’ve crumpled most men. The blur of his fists was almost too much for his mind to follow.
Scar blocked the first, absorbed the second strike against his jaw, but intercepted the third by hooking Gage’s forearm. Their arms locked as they stood face-to-face, so close it sent a tremor through Scar that wasn’t fear.
The sparring session had shifted from testing strikes to blurring the line between combat and passion.
“Are you still mad?” Gage asked softly.
The huskiness in Scar’s voice betrayed him. “I’m always mad.”
“At me?”
“Yes.” Scar frowned. “Mad that you smile for him. Furious that you let him touch you.”
“It’s not like that with Adrian.”
Scar narrowed his eyes as doubt crept through him.
Gage lifted his chin. “If I tell you it isn’t like that…why don’t you believe me?”
Scar didn’t have a good answer. It confused him how well Gage could read him without seeing him.
Gage was close enough that Scar could stick his tongue out for a taste of those delicate lips.
“What changed?” Gage murmured. “What made you go from despising me, like you always did back home…to this? Because I’m still me.”
Scar’s answer was blunt, ugly, and embarrassing with truth.
“My attraction to you has always been there. I just didn’t know what to do with it.” He tightened his arm around Gage’s waist. “You were so damn beautiful and innocent, unlike the trash I saw and dealt with every day.”
Drea wasn’t trash, but she just wasn’t him.
“When you showed up…I…I…”
Fuck, this was hard to say, but he had to man-up like Meridian said.
“You what?” Gage breathed.
“…I fucking wanted you. I wanted you so damn bad it literally hurt. I’d denied what I’d craved for too long and then you showed up.
But Roz made it clear you were off-limits.
And I hated that. But I’ve only ever known one way to deal with not getting what I wanted.
I get angry…and destroy anything in my path. ”
Gage sighed.
“And trust me when I say…you are not the same.” He gave himself a reward for his honesty and cautiously touched his mouth to Gage’s smooth cheek.
“Why couldn’t you just—”
He closed his mouth over Gage’s to show he was done splaying himself open.