The twenty minute break passes quickly, and I walk into the ring first. The scowls and smirks from the men appear in equal quantities throughout the crowd. I ignore them all, and turn back to the ocean. A breeze comes in from the shore and I spread my arms wide, basking in the coolness.
Then the chatter quiets down. Even the breeze seems to still.
“Are you sure—“ Anders asks hesitantly.
Before he can continue, he is cut off with a gruff, “Take this. Jeffery is injured. If he breaks another finger, he will be useless with the masts.”
I freeze, drop my arms, and whip around. My breath catches in my throat as I stare.
Erik stands before me, naked save a pair of SummerTec exercise shorts. His body is corded in tan muscle. He looks... good. Really, really good. A dark black tattoo is scrawled across his chest, and there are inked bands on his arms and thighs. They are beautiful, poetic lines that twist together in waves and flowers. Beneath the flowers are skulls, each image telling a different story. I wish I knew each one.
His hands are wrapped with black tape, and that reminds me why we are here. I blink, trying not to ogle him so noticeably. But, the crew sees everything.
Godsdammit.
Erik turns to the men. He chuckles darkly, saying, “Can’t let a female win against all of you, can I?” He shakes his head and the men lap up his attention. “Always protecting my crew's honor.”
They adore this side of him, I think while crossing my arms. They lavish in his swagger, in his power. He makes them feel like they can win. Maybe that’s why they think he’s a vigilante.
A familiar, bitter taste fills my mouth. I will not fall victim to his forced charm. My hearing muffles as the crowd finishes chanting their count-down.
Erik is close to me, far closer than any of the other fighters dared get in the beginning.
“Ready, Princess?” he smirks, far too low for anyone else to hear. That sets me off and I lunge forward.
Far too late, I realize I’ve fallen into his trap. He steps to the side and trips me. I tumble more gracefully than the last time and look up into his shining eyes. The burn in my stomach, thighs, and arms only intensifies. A smirk still ghosts his lips. I roll over and get back onto my feet. Cracking my neck, I switch to being defensive.
I meet his smirk as if to say, You are going to have to attack this time, asshole.
He tilts his head.Message received.
He comes at me, and I throw another curved punch at his chest. He moves and my arm hooks around his neck, bringing us chest to chest. Less than half a second passes before I shrink back, pulling my arms in tightly to my core once again.
Our audience fades away, and all I see is Erik. This is no longer a fight. This is war. It is a slow and tantalizing battle of wills. Every punch is a caress, every kick a step in a dance only we know. Sweat is pouring down my face and his body glows in the sun.
I refuse to be distracted, but he still manages to duck, grab my legs and pull me into the air. I realize what he intends to do when it’s too late. He is already in the perfect position to throw me on the ground flat on my back.
Erik is still fresh, and this is my fifth fight. It’s clear he wants to win dirty. I throw my weight around, causing him to kilter over to the side and fall instead. I land on my feet.
He yelps and jumps back up.
The dance continues. Duck, punch, swipe. Duck, punch, kick. We move in threes, like a waltz. The deck is our ballroom, the sun our chandelier. The music of the wind billows around us as we continue to fight.
My chest is heaving now, and air hurts as it comes into my lungs. The anger is returning. It helps me see an opportunity for a quick win. I dance to the back of the ring, putting unwanted space between us.
The captain analyzes me, his brow furrowed. In his face, I see he is trying to understand whether or not he should follow. Before he can decide, I rush forward and run into his shoulder. He tumbles to the ground with anoomph, but not before he can grab me.
We fall together, his head in the crook of my neck and a charged electricity licks my core. My body responds to the nearness of him in a dangerous way. My stomach twists and my skin feels like it’s on fire.
I hear a low rumble sound in his throat against my chest as we both lay, heaving. He can feel it, too. The raw, primal energy in the air.
I swallow hard when his mouth presses to the side of my throat. Gasping, I still as his lips open just barely enough to press his teeth into my skin.
He murmurs, “Defeat never tasted so sweet, Princess.”
The tickle of his breath along my jaw is light, and yet I can’t suppress my shiver. My hand twists in Erik’s long hair for a moment before I try to save us both by slamming my other fist into his gut. He pulls back from my neck, roaring in pain and clenching his side as I roll off of him.
I can stand.