He strides to me; his steps confident as he grips me by the chin with a force that has me suck in a tight breath. “I’m not saying I forgive you, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let you leave me again.”
I blink rapidly, and he kisses me hard. His tongue fucks my mouth in a similar rhythm his hips were mimicking earlier. Closing my eyes I take it all in. The hard grip on the back of my neck, his nose smashed against mine. It’s angry and possessive.
Pulling away from me abruptly, I sway on my feet trying to catch my balance. The way Camden kisses me is a realm of ecstasy that turns me on for another round in the ring with him.
He grabs the sports drink off the floor, and the light hits him just right to where a sliver of something catches my eye.
“What is that?” I question, reaching for his hips I turn him and find a large scar right across his hip. “Where did you get that?” It looks like it was a major cut.
He jerks out of my hold, his face masked with anger.
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing?” I try to grab him to look at it again and he pulls from my grip. Retreating my hand, I become clammy knowing something really bad happened to him.
“I said it’s nothing, now drop it!” he barks, and I blink in surprise. Noticing my unease he exhales a breath in attempt to calm himself.
“I don’t want to talk about it, so just leave it alone Tatum.”
He climbs out of the ring, and heads toward the showers. My chest weighs heavy, my fingers tapping on my bottom lip in thought.
What happened to him?
Does that scar have something to do with why he doesn’t fight anymore?
Does it have something to do with that dark shadows that lurk in the depth of his eyes?
Could I have done anything to prevent it if I hadn’t left?
Chapter Eighteen
20 Years Old
Camden
Sitting in the locker room I hear the announcers call my name. The girls cheering and screaming for me to come out.
Wrapping my knuckles in red tape, Thomas barrels through the door. He’s been on edge for days, and it’s starting to become contagious. I can feel the panic starting to spread through my chest. We’ve done this a dozen times, and each time we get a better fight for next time, but Thomas has it in his head that this fight might be the one to get me into the MFC.
“Kid, this is it. You take this guy down, you’ll make the big leagues. There’s big wigs in the crowd like you wouldn’t believe!” his voice wavers with excitement.
My lips curl into a smirk at his demeanor.
“You do this every fight, Thomas. Calm down will you, it’s just like any other match.”
His eyes widen, as he stops my wrapping.
“No, this is the real deal. Potential sponsors, endorsements, people waiting to sign you and make you the next big thing.”
My heart skips a beat, the idea that this might actually be it setting in. I exhale, breathing through the pressure.
“What makes you think they’re looking at me? There’s a lot of fights tonight.” I was approached by the UFFL to fight Revy Bendoza here in LA and Thomas has been giddy since then. Thomas said it would be perfect because of the location, I agreed to come because I was looking for Tate. Even after two years, I can’t seem to let her go. Her dad won’t tell me anything besides ‘let her go’.
Looking down my hands I flex them.
This fight will be for her.
If I win, I have to let her go.
If I lose, I know it’s because I can’t go forward without her.
“Tell me kid, tell me you are focused and you’ll make the house come down tonight.”
Swallowing hard, I peer up at him. My blond hair falling in my eyes.
“I’ll win.”
“Lets get a warm welcome for the one everyone is dying to see tonight. He’s from Chicago. He’s undefeated. The one the girls purposely wore their good panties for. The one, the only, Camden Steel!”
The song “Determined” by Mudvayne is playing loudly as I enter the arena.
Slamming my fists together, I jump on the heels of my feet, my hands raised in the air as the crowd goes nuts. Hands outstretched from the crowd trying to grab at me.
Thomas meets me at the cage and shoves my mouth guard in.
“Remember kid, big time.” He slaps my shoulder, and I nod.
Standing with my arms outstretched an issued UFFL sanctioned man comes and applies Vaseline to my eyes, cheeks, and nose. It helps the punches roll off easily, keeping blood from pouring into my eyes and stopping a fight prematurely.
After the Vaseline is applied, my hands, ears, and body are checked for any illegal substances or weapons. Given the approval, I slap my fists together and run into the ring and jogging around the octagon to get my blood pumping.
The announcer raves about Revy, and I continue to stretch and prepare myself.
Entering the ring, I eye Revy Bendoza. He’s a few inches taller than me. His hair shaved off leaving dark shadows casting along his head, matching his dark thick eyebrows.