Page 30 of Raven

“You are good,” Katura says with a patronizing smile.

I’m great, and I don’t need others to tell me that.

“What’s with the slip-up?” Archer nods at my shoulder cut.

I shrug. “You saw that guy.”

Katura chuckles. “He looked like he could wipe you out with a single thumb.”

Well, he didn’t.

The audience starts booing as a short, stalky guy tattooed head to toe and dressed in boxer shorts walks past us. He snarls, pumping his fist against his open palm. The new fight is about to start, but I’m not interested. Carnage is an exercise for me. I never bet and only watch the fights between notorious fighters to see if any of them are worthy future opponents.

“I wonder if any of Butcher’s men are here,” Archer says, scanning the crowd. More than ever before, his guards constantly survey the crowd, too.

“I wonder why you are jeopardizing your safety by coming here,” I respond, doing the same.

“To make a statement.”

“Probably not a good time to do that.”

He returns his gaze to me. “Even more so for you.”

We both smirk. Yeah, cocky. That we are. It’s hard to admit that someone becomes a threat. It’s even harder to admit that you might be afraid. Instead, you become reckless. Except, this area is surveilled through cameras and dozens of guards. Butcher would have to sacrifice a lot of his men to take a chance of attacking us here.

“All right, we are taking off. You good?” Archer asks.

“I’m fine.”

Archer nods at my shoulder. “You need to get that checked at the medical center.”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself. Maddy just left for work. She’s picking up a late shift. She is good with wounds.” He smiles, his knowing stare boring into me.

So is Katura’s. “Ready, babe?” Katura rubs her palm on Archer’s forearm.

It’s a tiny change in his posture, but a change nevertheless, like his body relaxes at her touch. Even his gaze softens—a miracle truly. But women have that magic over men. Archer’s gaze is almost encouraging as he gives me a little nod. “Get your wound treated. I’m surprised you even got one.”

Ain’t that the truth. Except I let my opponent hurt me intentionally, in the most harmless but visually disturbing way. For Maddy to see. For her to care. And the pretty girl—surprise-surprise—is picking up a late shift that wasn’t on her schedule.

Two minutes later, the wind is blasting in my face as I zoom on my bike out of the Carnage parking lot and through Ayana’s main entrance, where Skiba and another guard, who followed me, part ways with me. Their job is done for tonight. Mine is just starting, and my body tingles with anticipation as I park my bike at the medical center.

The night Maddy and I made a deal, my adrenaline shot up like fireworks. I’d been watching Maddy for a while, trying to figure out how to get my hands on her. She intrigued me, and then I learned who she was.

Her agreeing so easily was a win-win. But then I realized that for me to get a full Gestalt on this situation, I need more than her spreading her legs for me. I’ve never forced myself onto a woman. I like it when a woman is invested. And Maddy will be. It’s just a matter of time.

Angelica, the mayor’s daughter I dated back on the mainland, was a fun girl. She liked to be fucked hard, straight, anal, slapped—on request, of course—spanked, gagged, strangled, tied. She brought her girlfriend into our thing a couple of times. And while she went through kinks like a starving person in a buffet, I went along and learned what I liked, but mostly, what I didn’t like in sex.

It became a revelation that while, in theory, I was curious and turned on by pretty much anything and everything sex-wise, in reality, I was a very conservative guy. I learned one truth about people and sex. Some are into the physical aspect of it, like going to a gym—the harder the workout, the more serotonin is pumped into your brain, giving you a feeling of being rewarded. Archer explained it to me once.

To others, though, sensuality is the key. Those don’t need serotonin. They want their senses heightened. Like during a meditation. Like being on LSD. Or having the most delicious dessert. Or listening to your favorite song.

You see, for some, sex is an exercise. For others, it’s a sensation.

I don’t need more exercise. What I need after Carnage is a soft touch and seeing compliance in the pretty browns of the most secretive girl on Zion. And as I get off the bike, my body is already anticipating seeing Maddy—like taking a chill pill after a long day of work.

For a minute, I stand outside the hospital entrance and smoke, teasing myself. I like this feeling. Anticipating her.

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