Page 50 of Regressive

Boxing. Or fighting. That’s what this is.

There are other guys in the gym, but my focus is on Elon. His shoulders are wide, tapering down to his muscular chest and ripped abdomen that vanishes into a deep cut ‘V’ that travels under the waistband of his shorts. I didn’t know men like this existed—or maybe I just never thought about it. We were kept so separate, so segregated.

My neck warms as I think about how this man has bent me over a table like a rag doll and pounded into me—releasing the buildup of pressure buried in my core. I wonder what it would be like to have him over me, all that muscle and deep-rooted anger.

I take a step back and let the fresh air just outside the gym, cool me off.

Elon doesn’t want me like that. We’ve never had the intimacy that Rex and I have managed, or Silas with his sweet, caring nature. Even the connection I have with Levi is different… it’s violent and all-consuming, but emotional.

At best I feel like Elon tolerates me. A means to an end. Another part of his job in Serendee. An obligation.

Thinking of it that way quells my urges and I step back inside, curious about the fight.

Two men are on the mat now. Elon and one I recognize from around the community, Malen. He’s leveled up lately, working closer to Anex. Wearing the all black clothing of members of his security.

He’s also punching Elon in the face.

Shock ripples through me. Elon. Powerful, commanding and sure is getting his butt kicked by this other guy. He strikes him with his fist, his foot, his elbow and knee. Elon takes it, over and over, righting himself after each hit and gesturing for Malen to come at him again.

I step inside, closer, compelled to understand. There are others watching—all men—engrossed by the annihilation of one of Serendee’s strongest.

Malen wipes the sweat from his forehead. “Had enough?”

“Nope,” Elon says, spitting blood on the ground. “Another round.” He looks at one of the guys waiting by the edge. “You, too.”

Malen shrugs and bounces on his toes, waiting for the other man to walk into the ring. What I’m seeing feels unbelievable. Watching Elon take on two men—while seemingly not fighting back.

Malen’s elbow jerks back for another punch.

“What is happening?” I ask—out loud—although I mean to say it in my head. One of the other men looks back, eyebrows raised, surprised to see me.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says, but his tone isn’t bossy. I see from his expression he recognizes me.

“What is this?” I ask, flinching when Elon takes another hit.

“None of your business, I imagine.” The guy approaches me, putting his body between me and the ring.

I push him aside. “Stop!”

Elon’s eyes jerk to the side at the sound of my voice. Just in time to snap away from Malen’s fist slamming into his jaw.

“Stop!” I shout again. I rush past the guy blocking me and enter the ring. Malen’s eyes widen when he sees me, his fists dropping.

“What is this?”

Elon’s hands are on his knees, and blood drips to the mat. I can’t tell if it’s from his mouth or his eye. Maybe his nose.

“Stop,” I breathe. “This has to stop.”

“Go away, Little Lamb.” Elon’s voice is gruff, hard.

“No.” I jerk my chin at Malen. “Go. Get out of here.”

His lips curve. “Not sure it’s your job to tell me what to do.”

“You can do as I say, or I can go get my mate. Who would you rather deal with?” The way his spine straightens tells me he knows exactly who my mate is. “I thought so. Go.” I look at the others. “You, too. Get out of here.”

I drop down beside him and tentatively touch his shoulder. Once I hear the door slam, and I know we’re alone, I ask, “Want to tell me what this is all about?”

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