Page 13 of His Beast

Whatever Quinn is about to say is interrupted by Markus, entering the locker room as if he’s some main character of a fantasy novel, opening both doors with the importance he doesn’t have. His nose has since mostly healed, albeit a little crookedly. He’ll have to break it again to get it straight, but his focus has been too firmly set on this fight to bother with his image. Instantly his eyes zero in on Quinn and I step between them, blocking him from Markus’ point of view.

“Who the fuck are you?” Markus snarls, ignoring me.

“The breeder,” Quin replies, his tone flat as he stands up from the bench, looking Markus dead in the eye.

I watch as the dots slowly connect in Markus’ head, his eyes shifting from Quinn to me, anger flashing through his gaze. “The fuck you thinking bringing that here?!”

A low-rumble in my chest chases away any anxiety that may have been linger while Markus narrows his eyes at me, challenging me to do something, but Quinn bravely steps between us. In a show of absolute dismissal toward the Alpha before us, he blatantly turns his back toward Markus, giving me his undivided attention.

“I’ll go wait in the car. Call me when it’s over. Go be amazing.”

While it seems impossible, his skin feels even hotter to the touch as he stands on his tip toes to kiss me. I try to search our bond for any hint toward his state, but all I encounter is a wall, blocking me from sensing anything from him. Unease and worry replaces the anger as Quinn pulls away from my grasp, glaring at Markus as he left the locker room, middle finger of his right hand extended in my mangers direction. The second he’s out of sight, an ache and emptiness settle in my bones and I turn my gaze to the man who honestly believes he still owns me. He hasn’t the moment I stepped into the Night of Scarlet.

“Hey, Markus?” My voice is empty of any emotion as I move toward the door, my fingers flexing, testing out the tapping Quinn had done. “This is my last fight. I’ll find another way to pay off the debt, but I quit.”

On any other day, any other moment, the kaleidoscope of emotions that dances across his face would’ve been funny. He processes my words faster than I thought he would, his face showcased disbelief, anger, surprise, back to anger before settling on a sickening neutral grin. It’s the same grin he often uses when conducting business, probably thinking it makes him approachable and friendly. In reality, it puts you on edge, wondering when he’ll go for your throat.

“We’ll discuss it after the fight, okay?” Markus remarks sweetly, handing me my water bottle.

“There is nothing to discuss,” I reply, taking a swig of water, letting the cool liquid soothe my dry throat. “I am simply informing you. I left the keys to the studio you got me on the kitchen counter, keys for the car are in the glovebox. I’m done.”

Markus only gives me silence as we make our way to the main room.

The fight is taking place at an away gym with a small ring sitting in the center, surrounded by a roaring crowd. It’s small enough that it puts me in close proximity to my opponent, who also happens to be another Valla, making the ring even smaller. The cries of the crowd echo around the concrete room, so loud and deafening that I can’t hear the referee above their chants. I shake hands with the Valla across from me, who stands a foot taller than me, but his build is similar to my own. He just stares at me blankly as we take our places, waiting for the round to begin.

A shrill bell rings through the room, drowned out easily by the cries that surround us. Immediately, the Valla begins to move, forcing me to round the small enclosure with him like an awkward dance. His gaze wanders the length of my body, sizing me up before our eyes lock once more, a smirk on his lips. As his shoulder squares up, I expected him to swing of his left arm and not his left leg to come upward instead. Failing to see the false movement for what it was, I catch it out of the corner of my eye at the last minute, unable to stop the blow completely to my side. I am, however, able to soften it a bit by jutting my left arm downward sharply. As he focuses on kicking me, I take the opportunity to swing with my right fist, connecting with the side of his head and setting him off balance.

He stumbles slightly before rotating around quickly, rushing me to grab me around my middle and landing blows to the side he previously kicked, bruising my ribs instantly. Blows like that, backed by full Valla power, should’ve cracked my rib, but he’s controlling his strength, intending to draw out this fight.

Fuuuuck. I just want this over with already!

Pushing me against the edge of the ring, the rope bites into my back as I fight to push him off me, finally managing to loop my leg around his and brushing him off his feet, where he landed on the mat with a dull thud. My head begins to swim, vision blurring, as my heart thuds loudly in my ears. In any fight, it’s normal for adrenaline to pump through my system, what isn’t normal was the fresh feeling of bugs crawling along my skin, an itch deep beneath the surface of my skin. Shaking my body to rid itself of the feeling does nothing and my heart seems to pump faster, as if I’m a caged animal, thumping a bruise against my rib cage. Trying to clear my head only seems to make the vertigo worse, nausea rushing to the surface.

The Valla rolls onto his back, attempting to sweep my leg but I dodge him easily. Looking sideways briefly, I catch Markus staring at me, a weird smile on his face as he shakes my water bottle as though he was taunting me. It takes my sluggish brain far too long to realize he had put something in the water, whatever drug he used finally kicking in, but it’s making me sick while agitated at the same time. This gym may have been nicer than the one I normally fight in, but the rules are the same. This fight is still illegal, and I’m determined to win, but I never wanted to do so by cheating. I have to end this quickly.

I rush my opponent to curl my body around his, his legs folding around my waist, my fists connecting with any part of his upper body they can reach. He folds his arms in front of him to protect from the worst of my blows, but isn’t enough. I feel bone and muscle give way under my fists, his skin red and bruising beneath my touch.

The energy of the room noticeably shifts suddenly like a chill through the air along with the chaos of the audience and its clear something else was distracting the crowd. The scent of spiced honey reaches me, a whimper splicing through the murmurs.

Quinn.

I immediately let go of the Valla, twisting his knee at an unnatural angle to loosen his hold around my waist. The cracking of bone echos in my head mixing with the Valla’s cries of agony as his legs fall, but I pay attention to none of that. My hazy vision scans the room until I find Quinn, surrounded by Alphas closing in quickly, drawn in by the scent he’s produced. Finally, I realize why he had been so warm in the locker room—the unmistakable scent of heat and slick calling to those around him. With an animalistic growl, I dive out of the ring, shoving bystanders that don’t move out of my way fast enough.

Reaching for the closest Alpha, my fist connects with his face with a sickening crunch before I reaching for the next one, tunnel vision closing in. Screams erupt through the room and people begin to move as far away from me as they can, practically tripping over each other in their desperate attempt to get away. Quinn immediately surges forward, the scent of slick reaching my senses as I lift Quinn upward by his thighs, his arms instantly looping around my neck while I bury my nose into his neck.

His hard cock connects with my chest and he struggles against my hold, attempting to grind against me for friction, biting and sucking at my neck while he scents me, creating a mark. But he can’t get the friction he craves as his heated body tries to take control, mewling in frustration. I try to sooth him with shushing sounds, a low purr in my throat as I try to fight through the crowd to get him to safety. Fighting the crowd in’t my smartest moment, and it creates the chaos akin to that of an escaped circus animal as people push and shove each other to get out of my way while also trying to move toward the exits, forcing me to go against the flow of traffic to head toward the locker rooms.

The moment I step into the safety of the locker room, pain erupts in my skull as something solid and metal slams into the back of my head and my body pitches forward. Cradling Quinn against my body, we crash into the concrete floor, my shoulder protesting as it takes the brunt of the impact as I feel it dislocate. Bile crawls up my throat as I lay disoriented, dizzier than I was earlier. Lifting my head to see who hit me, my vision swims into focus, blood trickling down the back of my skull. With a yelped whimper, the weight of Quinn’s body leaves my arms as he’s pulled away from me. I let out an animalistic cry, my teeth bared as instinct takes over, my mate gone from my protection.

The metallic sound of a gun’s hammer being cocked reverberates through the room, my body freezing at its sound. My heartbeat thuds loudly in my ears as I force my eyes to focus, finding Markus in the shadows of the locker room, a bloody metal baseball bat at his feet and a gun pointed directly at Quinn. The fingers of his free hand are threaded harshly through my mate's curls, gripping them tightly in his grasp to pull Quinn’s head backward, holding it at a sharp angle. Quinn appears to be more lucid than he was just moments ago, his eyes wide and slightly clearer as he pants, fingernails scratching at the Alpha’s hand as his gaze flickers toward me while tears fell down his cheeks. Panic pumps through our bond like a heartbeat, fearful and frantic.

“I warned you,” Markus seethes, spittle flying while his chest rises and falls with his rage. “I warned you that if some wet hole was going to be a distraction, I was going to fix the problem myself!”

Markus glares down at Quinn, his focus solely on my mate that he never saw me coming. Nor the bat.

Zayn

“Zee!”