Page 58 of Dukes of Peril

Reaching out, I grab her hand, unbothered by the stiffness of it, and drag my fingers over her skin. My canvas. Perfect and smooth and delicate. It’s a stark contrast to my calloused, inked flesh. My hands are an artist’s tool, a fighter’s weapons. When I think of Vinny’s fingers, I imagine them caressing my hair, circling my cock, slowly tracing the designs on my skin after a lazy fuck. I don’t like the idea of them bruised and scabbed from a fight.

“I came to say that you don’t have to do this,” I say, running my thumb over a soft knuckle before pressing the tape over it. “She’s not really the one you want to hit.”

Vinny traps me with her blazing eyes. “If you think I don't want to hit her, then you don't know me at all.”

My eyes draw up–not on her, but around her. To the fuzzy edge around her ferocity. I think I might see something, a faint flicker of color emerging, but it fizzles out before I can decide.

I graze my fingers over her wrist and it happens again, the hint of color. She’s pissed. At me. At Haley. At the whole damn situation. I don’t mention it. I just keep wrapping, gently winding the tape over her knuckles, and hope for another flicker. She shivers and my eyes dart to her tits and her hard, pointed nipples.

“Too tight?” I drag my gaze to her face.

Her breath hitches. “I’m not sure.”

I whisper, “Make a fist.”

She does and I see that she has enough range, so I secure the ends by tucking them underneath. “If you need to kick Haley’s ass, I get it. I’m pretty sure I’d murder any man who touched you that wasn’t one of your Dukes.AssumingNick didn’t get there first.” I swallow. Just like that night up in the clock room, I wonder how I’m going to let her go at the end of this task. It’s been so long since I felt her skin against mine and I’m so hungry for it. “Haley’s slow,” I offer, drawing it out. “She’s got shit for stamina. The jogging you’ve been doing with Sy should give you an edge.”

Her mouth pinches angrily. “Remy–”

“But if you’re hurting her to get back at me, it won’t work. I don’t give a shit about Haley.” I catch her eye, rubbing the pad of my thumb against the thin skin of her wrist. It’s indulgent and unfair, and I don’t give a fuck. “Maybe that just makes me a bigger asshole, but it’s true. I’ve already told her–she knows it. That’s why she’s being such a bitch to you.”

“How many?” she asks, another flare of color when she grits her teeth. It’s not quite red, but it’s also not blue. “Is this something I have to do every week, Remy? How many of those girls out there have you fucked?”

“None,” I answer. “None since you. Definitely none that matter.”

She turns her eyes on me. “Until the next time you’re mad at me?”

I freeze, my face twisting. “Vinny, you know how out of my fucking mind I was.” But that’s not what I want to say. It’s not an excuse. My shoulders sink. “There’s this saying–I’ve heard it a lot in that group Sy sent me to. My issues,” shyly, I tap my temple, “my… head issues, you know? They’re not my fault, but they are my responsibility. I guess I never really thought about that much.” My voice drops. “Not until you.”

It’s her turn to swallow thickly. “I’m not looking for another apology.”

“Good.” I tear off the tape. “Because I wouldn’t know how to give it.” I gave her the sky. I took her to the black and held her stars in my hands, and now black is all I see. “She crossed a line with you, and she has to pay. I get it. But it’s not going to change anything.” I touch her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Baby, I’m already yours.”

She leans out of my touch, sliding off the table. Her face is hard as stone. “You going to do the other hand, or what?”

Deflating, I reach out for her left wrist, searching like hell for another flash of color. “I’ve given you time. I’ve given you space. I’ve given you a complete lack of me. And Vinny?” I meet her gaze, knowing how agonized I must sound. “It’s fucking killing me.”

“I don’t care.” She yanks her hand back, snatching the roll of tape, and the furious flare of her eyes makes my face fall. “This isn’t a punishment, Remy.”

I step back. “Then what is it?”

“It’s me,” she answers, voice tight, “not ready to jump off that cliff again.”

If I were ever a literal person, I might think to tell her that’s a statistical improbability. But I’m not stupid. She’s not talking about the real cliff.

The lower seatsare packed with DKS and cubs, cutsluts sprinkled throughout, and there’s a strange, hostile energy running through them. Duchess vs. cutslut? Loyalties run thick in West End, but there are rules–some unspoken, some explicit. None of them have the right to touch Vinny any more than the cutsluts have the right to the three of us.

“We should have sold tickets,” Nick mutters as we approach the ring. Hands clutching her waist, Sy helps Vinny up on the mat, spreading the ropes to give her space to ease through.

“Keep your shoulders up,” Sy tells her, climbing up on the edge to meet her over the ropes. “Watch your feet. And if you can get her into a grapple hold–”

“Choke hold,” Nick cuts in, jumping up to lean closer. “Did Sy teach you any leg takedowns?” He glances at Sy. “Any Muay Thai?”

“Would you be real?!” Vinny hisses, whirling to glare at them. “Nails, tits, and hair, guys. This is a chick fight, not one of your macho MMA matches.” She reaches up to gather her hair into a tight bun, hard eyes flicking across the three of us. “Maybe a few years of being unable to hold my own against menthree times my sizehas confused you.” She narrows her eyes, challenging. “But I grew up fighting the meanest bitch Forsyth will ever see. That piece of trash over there doesn’t stand a chance.”

There’s a long, desperate groan, Nick’s head bowing. “Little Bird, please,” he begs, glancing up at her with tortured eyes. “My dick cannot get any harder.”

Even Sy reaches down to covertly adjust himself.

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