Page 55 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

“It’s something I prefer not to ask about,” Lorenzo agrees.

The doors open in the lobby, and Elio slips his hand into mine, twining our fingers together.

“Come home with me?” It sounds like he’s asking me to stay the night with him, but there’s a deeper hope in his words that almost feels like he’s asking for more than that.

Jack is back at Shady Oaks, and I can’t think of anything in the world that would tempt me to go back to my own empty bed tonight. Or ever, if I’m being honest with myself.

Elio likes it when I boss him around. Maybe I’ll boss him into inviting me for more than just tonight. Forever sounds like it might be long enough.

Chapter 21

ELIO

Waiting for Orion to enter the ring hits differently when I’m able to drag my tongue along my bottom lip and still taste his mouth. Everyone in the building is chanting his name, but when he steps out into the ring, I’m the one his eyes seek out immediately. He only keeps his attention on me for half a second, maybe less, but it’s long enough to heat up every inch of me. It’s long enough for me to catch the way his expression flits from focused to intense to determined. The contempt that used to burn in his eyes whenever his gaze landed on me is long gone. Lucky for me, he was wrong. It wasn’t the way he hated me that I got off on, it’s the way he sees all the way down to my core. He saw the ugly, nasty parts back then, when everyone else was too busy kissing my ass to save their own. Now he sees everything else too. At least, I think he does.

Greg Nelson enters the ring, and the crowd goes wild all over again with a mix of cheers and boos. After Orion found out that the guys were afraid of retribution from me if they beat him, he asked to set up a rematch against Nelson. No surprise, the kid was all for it.

Orion faces him and mouths something that looks like, “Don’t hold back.” Nelson’s face hardens to reflect Orion’s fierce determination, and he gives a single nod. I don’t know if he was holding back last time, but I get why Orion needs the rematch.

The bell chimes and as soon as Greg Nelson throws his first punch, it’s clear he has no plans to take it easy tonight. He’s coming out of the gate swinging, and Orion is ready for it. He ducks and weaves, dodging eighty percent of the initial attack. I’ve always been drawn in by the savage brutality that follows, but tonight I’m mesmerized by this as well. He moves like he’s weightless, as if his feet don’t even need to touch the mat.

The moment is shattered as Nelson takes another swing and connects this time. Hard. His fist slams into the side of Orion’s jaw, causing him to stumble back. My stomach knots and I hold my breath, expecting Orion to recover and come back twice as violent, ready to teach this kid who he’s in the ring with. He makes a comeback, but not without a few missed steps and too many chances for Nelson to get a couple more shots in. I grimace at the fleshy thud of punches and kicks that only ever seem to turn my stomach when Orion’s on the receiving end.

“Oh, shit,” Alessio murmurs next to me, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

Instead of cheering Orion’s name, the chorus of “Nelson, Nelson, Nelson!” only seems to grow louder and louder.

He isn’t giving up easily, but it doesn’t look like Nelson needs him to.

“Goddamn, we’re about to clean up tonight.” Salvatore stands up, his eyes fixed eagerly on the fight, just like every other person in the arena.

“Well, fuck. I guess I should have placed a bet on Nelson tonight. I could’ve hung up my thong for good,” Dante says from the seat on Sal’s other side.

He didn’t seem all that thrilled when the two of them showed up together, but he obviously follows the UFL more than he let on, so I’m guessing his general lack of enthusiasm was more about being stuck under Sal’s watchful eye until after we deal with the shipment this week.

“Would you assholes shut the fuck up,” I growl without tearing my eyes off of the ring where Orion and Nelson are grappling on the ground now.

I can barely follow the flurry of movement or who’s pinning who at any given moment. It’s nothing but elbows and fists, legs locked around each other as they fight for supremacy. It’s the exact mix of mildly sexual and wholly violent that attracted me to MMA to begin with, but right now my dick isn’t even close to hard.

And then it’s over. I almost feel like I missed a step. One second the air is vibrating with shouts and cheers, and then… silence. Orion’s pinned under Nelson, his face bloody and his chest heaving as he taps his hand against the hard mat. Everyone in the arena seems to hold their breath at once, and then the bell rings, the announcer shouts Greg Nelson’s name to declare him the winner, and the screaming starts all over again, so loud it’s deafening.

Orion Barros just lost the fight.

ORION

I feel dazed. I guess a few dozen blows to the head will do that to a guy. But I think it’s more than that. I lost my first UFL fight. After all this time, and everything that’s happened, my undefeated streak is over.

The press clears out of the locker room, and I sink down onto the bench, mopping the blood and sweat off of my face with a towel, waiting for the crushing feeling of the loss to wash over me. It’s not just a loss, it’s everything it means. I’ve known for a long time that I’m aging out, and this is a brutal reminder that I’m not as quick, not as indestructible as I once was.

I drag in a deep breath, and, surprisingly, I feel more at peace than I have in as long as I can remember. Maybe ever. Every punch I’ve thrown, every hit I’ve taken since the beginning, they’ve all felt necessary for survival. I don’t want this to be my only option anymore though. Maybe it doesn’t have to be.

I hear the door swing open, and I grin into the towel. I dab my face a little more, then toss the towel aside and look over my shoulder to see Elio stepping into the locker room. He follows the trajectory of my used towel with his eyes as it sails towards the laundry hamper, a half smile twisted on his lips. Then he looks back at me, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“How are you feeling, Boss?” He sounds so somber, like we’re at a funeral.

I snort a laugh and stand up. “I’m fine. Can’t win ’em all, and if I had to lose to anyone, I’m glad it was Nelson. He’s a good kid with an impressive career ahead of him.”

“Uh-huh.” Elio’s shoes squeak against the linoleum floor as he comes closer. “And what about the non-press, no bullshit response?”

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