Page 44 of Tarnished Reign

Until then, I need to work off my raging hard-on in the gym.

Jinx is already in the corner, going at it with boxing gloves and the punch bag. He sees me and stops to salute with one gloved hand. “Boss.”

I ought to make things right with him, or at least less shitty. I nod at the ring in the corner of the room. “Want to go a few rounds?”

He frowns.

“No holds barred. I won’t expect you to treat me like the boss. I have some aggression I could do with working out.”

“Fuck it, why not? So long as you don’t break my pretty face.” He smirks.

Jinx is far from pretty. He already has a broken nose. His features are flat, his eyes dull. He looks like the kind of person you’d cross the road to avoid. He’s shorter than me, and not as broad, but he’s probably heavier because he eats his own weight in cow every day and lifts weights, and I think he takes steroids too.

He might have bigger muscles, cartoonishly so, but he also is slower and less sharp; I think I can beat him. I’m itching to find out.

It’s fight or fuck, and the woman I want to fuck is off limits for now.

I step into the ring.

11

DIMITRI

We eye one another warily, and once I’m gloved up, we begin dancing around.

Can Jinx even haul his bodyweight up on a pull-up bar? The way you’re trained in the military is very different to simply going to the gym and lifting the heaviest weights. To be truly in shape, and to make an incredible fighting machine, one needs to be able to use one's own body weight effectively. The way we trained pushed our bodies to the very limits of fatigue and exhaustion.

I'm able to kill a man with my bare hands. If this were a real fight, and I was trying to survive, Jinx would be in danger. I'm not going to use those skills here and now; I'm simply going to box with the man. Jinx does a lot of sparring, so he might beat me. I'm interested to find out.

I get the first few hits in. An uppercut to his massive chin and a punch to the side. He tenses his muscles just before I connect with his side, and I don't think the blow hurts him.

Jinx gets the next few hits in; one glances off my shoulder, and the other hits me in the side of my arm. I dodge backward and shake my arms out, trying to get the feeling back. Jinx certainly has a lot of power behind his punches.

I dance around for a while, using my speed to tire him. He throws punches and misses, and beads of sweat pop on his forehead as he begins to exhaust.

Aiming low, arms up, I dodge and weave and hit him with four rapid-fire punches to the core of his body in quick succession. He brings his arms down to defend the area, which is just what I want. My blow straight into his cheek is hard, and he stumbles back, staggering a little.

They say pride comes before a fall, and so I'm careful not to let my guard down or feel triumphant. Jinx roars and rushes me, his arms swinging fast as he batters the center of my body with a stunning barrage of blows.

Air rushes from my lungs, and I bend over trying to get more in, winded and in agony.

Jinx takes his chance and aims right for my ear. I manage to dodge the blow, but the gym turns red as the blood pulses in my veins, rage bathing everything.

I don’t think he's aware of my injury. My stepfather knows, and I never asked him to keep it a secret, but I doubt he shared. After all, a big part of my work is to terrify the enemies of my stepfather. Right or wrong, they may not fear me as much if they think I have a disability. It's stupid because I'm just as capable of killing them with or without the tinnitus. People are strange, though. When it comes to any kind of disability, they let their prejudices and ignorance show.

It's doubtful that Jinx knows what he almost did, but that doesn't bank the rage. I'm the kind of person who likes my revenge best served cold, and instead of roaring my aggression and storming him the way he did me, I dance around him, jabbing lightly here and there, and catching him off guard. He’s increasingly exhausted as he swings at me, missing time and time again. My punches are lighter, but they connect far more often than his.

Finally, I manage the blow that I need. My fist connects with his face, smashing hard into the side of his mouth. Spittle flies from his lips, and his mouth guard falls to the mat.

As he goes down, his arm comes up, and he catches me in the face. It's not controlled because the punch was thrown as he was already falling, and my cheekbone takes the full impact. I’m thrown to the side, and pain bursts behind my cheek as I hit the ground.

I breathe through the pain but realize I may have broken a bone. Thankfully, it's on the other side of my face from my damaged ear. I press my fingers along my cheekbone and can't feel anything out of place.

“Jesus Christ.” The rumbled groan comes from the corner of the ring.

I manage to stumble to my feet, staggering over to Jinx. He groans as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. I reach down and hold out my hand. He takes it with his own, and I pull him up. We look at one another and then like the idiots that we are, we both burst out laughing.

“You broke my tooth, motherfucker,” he says. “Good fight.”

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