Page 17 of From Best To Bested

Roman’s cowardice had already cost Levi and put him in danger. At least with this ultimatum, at least by upholding his deal, he might make some of it right. And if Roman were fortunate—which he truly believed he never would be again—he might even salvage some vestiges of his own life.

“All right,” Roman forced himself to speak, every word scrapping against his tongue with an unyielding desire tocontinue fighting, continue resisting. But he was so tired. “I’ll be your friend. I’ll keep my end of the wager. I’ll fuck you.”

“To be clear, you won’t be doing the fucking,” Ezra said with a smirk. “You’re okay with this arrangement? Absolutely certain?”

“Yep,” Roman conceded.

“Perfect.” Ezra’s cadence was kind, his smile friendly, but even so, the wicked glint in his green eyes unnerved Roman. It was enough to make him want to crawl back into his solitary cell and hide. “I love to take care of my friends.”

Chapter Seven

Roman was escorted from The Pit and taken to the showers, where he was given an opportunity to clean off. After three months in isolation, he had the two-minute ritual engrained in his head and quickly scrubbed down his body while shivering in the cold water. The quick wash never afforded much time to clean his cuts, and the harsh water often made them burn, but he did what he could with the time offered. Roman stepped back, prepared for the guard to turn off the nozzle and rush him out, but she seemed more fixated on some game she played on her phone.

Roman took advantage of the extra allotment and went back to scrubbing himself, actually getting the dirt out from under his nails, having a chance to properly rinse his hair, and being able to clean away the grime caked on his skin. He even shaved away all the mangled facial hair he’d been forced to sport in The Pit. Warm water finally funneled out after five minutes. It wasn’t hot, lukewarm at best, but Roman soaked under the stream in utter bliss.

Once he’d finished, he was brought to his cell. Correction, his former cell. The champion’s suite, which really hadn’t changed all that much since he’d roomed in it before. The mirror mounted on the wall showed there wasn’t anyone at the far-offend in either bunk. Still, he grimaced and paused at the door, hesitating about his next encounter with Ezra.

The correctional officer shoved him inside and complained about him dawdling. Roman was stalling, debating if he could go through with this, debating if he could give all this up again, too. It seemed Ezra not only kept all the items Roman had acquired during his time as reigning champion, but Ezra hadn’t made any additional updates. He kept the cell fairly the same except for the bunk beds.

Roman sat on the bottom bunk and immediately sank into the stiff mattress. Not much to be done about the beds, but damn if the silk sheets didn’t make a world of difference. The top bunk was standard and itchy and looked like they’d been slept in, whereas the bottom bunk was in perfect condition. Roman didn’t know why Ezra passed on the better bedding, but he couldn’t complain. Not this minute, anyway.

Lights out came around soon after, but there was still no sign of Ezra. It didn’t take long for Roman’s mind to piece together the reason. It’d been three months since he was champion, since he’d faced off in the arena, but those who competed always did so in the dead of night. Occasionally, there’d be an early evening competition, but those were mostly just leadups to the bigger bouts for the nighttime entertainment.

Roman shivered in the bed, anticipating Ezra’s return. He feared it. He feared Ezra returning victorious and collecting on the promise Roman had made to a wager he’d already broken his word on once before. He feared Ezra returning with his head held low, having been dethroned from his title and holding no power or sway. If that happened, the warden would most certainly drag Roman back to The Pit.

The conflicting dread made Roman’s heart race.

“You look peaceful,” Ezra’s voice broke the silence and pulled Roman’s attention away from the heavy thrum of his heart.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Roman said.

Ezra had a gash on his forehead with a few stitches closing it up but no bandage. He looked a bit winded, with a sheen of sweat running down his neck and to his partially exposed chest, keeping two buttons open and no undershirt. Despite that, Ezra carried himself well, not like that of someone who walked away from a loss.

“Rough night?” Roman nodded to the cut.

“Jake the fucking Snake got that lucky hit during the Challenger’s Chance,” Ezra explained. “Dude has come for my title three times. You’d think he’d realize.”

“He’s persistent,” Roman said, thinking of how many times he’d fought off Jake in and out of the arena, how many other men in this prison were just as bad or worse than Jake. He didn’t know if he was lucky to have caught Ezra’s attention, sparked his fascination, or if he was about to walk headfirst into a whole new form of Hell.

Ezra stepped into the center of the room and waved Roman to join him.

“Are you ready to commit?”

Roman scoffed. “Don’t you mean submit?”

That was what this was, after all, and Roman refused to look at it any other way. Still, Ezra continued framing this as a possibility for friendship.

“We’re not friends, we won’t be friends,” Roman snapped. “Just whip out your dick already so I can get this over with.”

“There is no getting this over with.” Ezra’s smile fell away, and his expression turned stony. “If you commit to this friendship, to this willing submission, then you need to understand it will be ongoing. Your every breath will be for my satisfaction, and my every action will be for your protection. You will see to my needs and my needs alone. You will understand that your existence is purely for my pleasure. Any release youget when I fuck you will be a sign of you performing your role correctly.”

Roman swallowed hard, biting back the sinking fear of this awful realization. He knew what to expect; he’d prepared himself long before going to The Pit and dwelled on the options while in isolation, and now, as he stood there, he questioned this decision once again. It was a choice he couldn’t walk back from. Once he surrendered himself to Ezra, others would know. His fallen standing would never recover, and he’d be stuck at the bottom quite literally in this sense.

But Roman knew as much as he hated swallowing his pride, he didn’t want Levi to suffer anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to die alone in a hole wearing a wolf mask completely forgotten by the world.

“Are you willing to commit?” Ezra asked. “Are you ready to make this choice?”

“Like I have a choice.”

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