Did it feel good?
No.
Orla felt good beneath me.Locke. On top of me. Inside me. Next to me in bed, his solid warmth so different to Rubi’s cosy bulk. Ranger’s fists were something else, and as we rained blows on each other, drawing blood and pain, the scratchy satisfaction became less sating.
I need more.
We both did.
Breathing hard, I punched him with more force, the impact exploding in my knuckles and ricocheting up my arm.
Ranger laughed, manic energy seeping from him, dancing in the rain, his teeth stained red.
I decked him again, accepting an elbow to my gut for my trouble, and my brain finally began to white out. Cognitive thought gone, leaving nothing in its wake but grief and rage.
The fight became a blur. I couldn’t say how long we grappled for. Just that with every hit, something inside me snapped, driving me to hit Ranger harder, to leave myself more open for the hellfire he unleashed on me in return.
We fell to the mat, rolling, my heavier weight giving me an advantage Ranger didn’t fight.
I drew my fist back, power bunching in my bicep, my tangled emotions spiking the potency, the caution my uncle had taught me so many years ago a distant fucking memory.
A useless memory.
I want to kill someone. Anyone. And in this moment, that’s who Ranger had become.
My shoulder flexed, the knee he drove into my back weakened by the bulk of my body holding him down.
I met his gaze.
He met mine, the challenge clear.
The plea.
Do it. I don’t care.
I should’ve cared.
I should’ve asked himwhy.
Instead, I made peace with haymakering his face, knowing it would knock him out cold, thirsting for just one more crunch of knuckle on bone.
Just one more.
“Enough.” The command cracked like a regal whip. Cold anger dancing with hot menace. Authority absolute as battered DMs stepped into my orbit and my queen glared down at me with fire in her eyes. “Chapel. Both of you.Now.”
4
ORLA
I’ve forgotten how he smells.
A lie, but one that haunted me as I marched into the chapel and claimed the seat that had once been my father’s.
Nash and Ranger followed me, meandering bloodily from the most brutal fight the ring had seen since Alexei had destroyed four men all by his crazy self.
I’d told Locke that story once, curled up on my couch while he’d loitered by the door, as if being alone with me was akin to getting in a lift with a live grenade, but he wasn’t as into gossip as Nash and Rubi, and he’d left soon after, choosing to spend the night on the landing instead.
That night, I’d thought I’d known what it felt like to miss him, and I’d been as big of a fool then as the battered idiots trailing behind me now.