Page 54 of Bloom in Darkness

Astra follows the exchange with his hands braced against the console. “He’s wearing him down.”

“Yeah.” Bryn gives the Alpha another step of ground below us. “He wants him tired enough to stop protecting the body.”

The next exchange is uglier. Bryn takes a hard shot across the cheek that splits the skin just below his eye, and my stomach tightens even though I’ve watched him bleed more times than I can count; Astra grips the edge of the console but doesn’t look away.

“He wanted him to throw that,” Astra says after Bryn resets.

I look at him. “What makes you think that?”

Astra points toward the ring without taking his eyes off it. “He keeps leaving the left side open just enough to look careless, but he’s shifting his weight back before the punch comes. You said he likes traps.”

“Good eye.” A minute later Bryn proves him right. He gives the same opening again, slips inside the overhand right instead of taking it, and drives an uppercut clean enough to buckle the Alpha's knees and bring the crowd to its feet.

Astra leans closer to the glass with both hands locked around the edge of the console, flushed enough that I know the fight is getting to him in a way neither of us expected. He doesn’t back away when Bryn stalks forward with blood on his cheek.

By the fourth round, Bryn’s opponent has slowed enough to get sloppy. Bryn hasn’t, and he keeps working the body until the man’s guard drops, then snaps a clean combination upstairs that forces the referee to step between them and wave it off.

Bryn’s already turning toward the tunnel before the announcer finishes saying his name. Astra watches him disappear. “Does he always leave that fast?”

“Pretty much. He’s never cared about staying for the crowd.”

“Where does he go?” Astra’s eyes stay on the tunnel.

I glance toward the box door. “Usually to me. Tonight, probably here.”

Astra turns toward the box door and doesn’t look away until the lock clicks a few minutes later. Bryn steps inside with bloody tape around both hands, sweat running down his chest, and the cut on his cheek already swelling at the edges.

The fight is still riding him when he comes through the door, shoulders high as his eyes sweep the room before landing on Astra, and then he stops a few feet inside the door instead of crossing the rest of the distance. His breathing is still heavy when he asks, “You okay?”

Astra looks at him like the question makes no sense, then crosses the space between them. Bryn tracks him the whole way without moving.

Astra reaches up and touches the cut on Bryn’s cheek with two careful fingers, gets blood on them immediately, then looks at the red smear before meeting Bryn’s eyes again. “You were fucking incredible.”

Bryn finally lets out the breath he’s been holding. “It wasn’t too much?”

Astra’s brows pull together, but Bryn keeps going before he can answer, wiping the back of one taped wrist across his mouth, smearing sweat instead of cleaning anything. “You hadn’t seen me like that. Didn’t know what you’d think once you did.”

Astra slides his hand from Bryn's cheek to the back of his neck. “I think you knew exactly what you were doing. I think you looked fucking terrifying.” His thumb strokes once beneath Bryn's ear. “And you still checked our side of the ring every time you came around.”

Bryn keeps staring at him, so Astra grins. “Also, apparently I really like watching you hit people. So if you're waiting for disgust, you're going to be waiting a while.”

Bryn’s hands come up to Astra’s waist without pulling him closer, waiting until Astra closes the remaining distance himself before folding him against his chest. He buries his face into the side of Astra’s neck and breathes him in while the last of the fight shakes through him. Astra wraps both arms around his shoulders without caring about the sweat or blood getting onto his sweater, and from where I’m standing I can see one of Bryn’s hands trembling slightly against Astra’s back.

Astra rubs slowly between Bryn's shoulder blades. “I'm still here, big guy.” Bryn’s purr catches against Astra’s throat as he holds him tighter while I stay where I am and give them room. When Bryn finally lifts his head, Astra touches the cut on his cheek again. “That needs cleaning.”

“Medical already cleared it.” Bryn keeps one hand at Astra’s waist.

Astra doesn’t move his hand from Bryn’s face. “That wasn’t what I said.”

I grab my coat from the chair. “I’ve got everything we need at home.”

Bryn keeps one arm around Astra’s waist as we leave the box. The hallway’s busier now, staff moving between bouts and security redirecting people away from the fighters’ corridor, and Forrest passes us going the opposite direction before taking one look at Bryn’s face and Astra tucked against his side.

Forrest doesn’t comment as he passes us, but Astra twists around to follow him for several steps. “He’s judging us.”

“He’s working.” I keep us moving toward the exit.

Astra lifts his brows. “He can do both.” Bryn’s arm stays around his waist as we keep walking.