𝐋𝐔𝐗 𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄

— 𝐂 𝐇 𝐀 𝐏 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐅 𝐈 𝐕 𝐄 —

"YOU SEEM EXCITED, it's sickening," I made a path for myself as I walked past the many machines and gears, stopping in the center of a large mat that awaited a worthy fighter. I masked the shudder that traveled across my spine, the heavy energy combined with the pumping adrenaline enough to make my nerves act up.

Nox's eyes lit up with a concerning and challenging glint, the scars on his arms raising interest as they flexed underneath the direct light, his wrappings coming undone and revealing a pair of bruised knuckles "Why wouldn't I be? It's about time someone shuts that mouth of yours," a dark eyebrow rose theatrically, enough to spark my inner rage.

"Aren't you confident," I scoffed, never taking my eyes off of his wandering form, coming dangerously close to the zone of comfort I had created for myself.

He screamed danger, an adventure that would lead anyone down the wrong path, a hint of his woody cologne combined with the warmth radiating off his body throwing me off my balance, the scent intoxicating. He watched me with a hint of curiosity, looking down at me almost innocently, an annoying strand of hair adorning his forehead and successfully distracting me from the task at hand.

"I like to call myself realistic," he shrugged and stepped away, a breath releasing itself from between my lips almost instantly, grateful for the space. I rolled my eyes almost mechanically, the action a practice that seemed to turn into a habit the more I was forced to endure his egotistical presence.

"I think you're bluffing," it was an instant response, sarcasm clearly intended, my pupils widening the slightest bit as the realization of my actions dawned on me.

It was one of those moments when your heart skipped a beat for all the wrong reasons, and the dreaded sensation of blood icing your veins seeped through at the worst times — it lived as the warning of how a sharpened tongue could easily dismantle those careful of words and sly of truth, and I had fallen victim to it. My body went down in mere seconds, yet another painful reminder of this morning's affairs, only now the safety net I was provided with attenuated my otherwise aching fall.

"Talk less, fight more."

He began stepping away from my already injured form, a childish surge of pettiness rushing through my core as my fingers wrapped around the exposed skin of his ankle, my manicured nails digging into the skin as I brought him down with me. The string of curses flowing through the suffocating air fell upon deaf ears as my only goal was to make the aggravating voice stop from making my ears bleed every time I would be the unfortunate prey of his torture, years of entertaining men like him catching up to my nerves.

"You were saying?" I huffed a breath, the still-rushing adrenaline hauling me to my feet in an instant.

I shuddered before him, not out of fear but out of delight, for the chess pieces were in my possession. The look of defeat suited him, the grimace adorning his sharp features and the murderous gaze slicing through the surface of my skin causing a wicked grin to spread across my lips and taunt him mercilessly — call me insane for entertaining the bubble of anger I had created out of pure spite, but it did nothing but fuel my growing desire for what was about to unfold before my own eyes.

"Should I worry about biting, too?" He grumbled as he rose to his full height, outraged more than ever "Since you want to act like a rabid bitch," his words only delighted the starved soul residing in my mind, my reflexes sharp as I dodged his latching hands.

He was stealthy and agile, the balls of his feet supporting his continuous throws as he got closer and closer to digging into my limbs, the crazed look in his eyes a perfect match for my own insanity. I was in no way clueless and out of touch with the world I was carelessly thrown into, training had been a priority since childhood, disguised as self-defense tactics that proved to be the conditioning of a developing killing machine — I could see the wheels turning in his head with each dodged assault, how someone so irrelevant could withstand years of professional training without so much as a scratch. It was entertaining to see a man struggle, but one's ego was no good when it came to a game of survival.

The breath was knocked out of me in the following moment, any remaining sarcasm dying on the tip of my tongue as strong fingers dug into the fragile skin of my wrists, pushing me on my back until all of my strength was restrained, his knee settling between my thighs as my head came into contact with the hard floor. My mouth opened helplessly, a muted groan clawing its way out of my throat as Nox's features twisted with silent pride. An impending headache practically split open whatever was left of my brain, my eyesight switching between the ability to catch the shadows on his face and allowing dark spots to cloud the remainder of it.

"Again," cold and lacking emotion, such a short word that aggravated me to no end.

Playing dead seemed like the easier option, backing down always the sweetest escape, yet the possibility of wiping that satisfied look off his face had me throwing punches quicker than expected, the slight loss of balance in my movements a short impediment. I dodged, I hit, I screamed out of anger, and I almost could have missed the wonder in his eyes if it hadn't been for the lack of oxygen barely flowing through my lungs, slowing me down significantly and dragging me once again, to the floor, Nox's bodyweight crushing me significantly.

"Again."

Dodge, hit, fight back, scream, repeat — dodge, hit, fight back, scream, repeat — dodge, hit, fight back, scream, repeat. The smell of dust raising in the air made me want to claw my eyes out, the droplets of sweat sticking to my back turning ice cold as I fought to keep my breathing leveled, the strands of hair clinging to my forehead irritating enough to occupy half of my concentration — another blow to the mat bringing crimson shame rushing to my cheeks.

"Again," He said, a glint of enjoyment running through his glacial eyes. Power dynamics were his drug, getting a rush of satisfaction each time a groan of pain would slip from my lips and reach his ears, a monstrous melody of sorts. He hovered over my twisting features, and I was only able to make out the triumphant grin spreading across his lips before my forehead slammed right into his nose, the sudden strike painful enough to loosen the grip on my wrists and lose any sense of equilibrium.

My legs straddled his thighs with ease, locking them in place as I dug my nails into his wrists and pinned them back, a rush of electricity sparking the same drive I had started with and returning in my voice "I may be a rabid bitch, but you're the sickest fuck I've ever met," I bit back with a taunt of my own, a thin trail of blood rolling down his jaw as it came out of his nose and stained the clear canvas.

I expected a snarky reply, another name I was expected to combat with an insult of my own and endure for however long I was set to last in another fight, yet the slight positive tilt of his lips tugged at my heartstrings in the most unnerving way possible.

"For a rabid bitch you don't look half bad on top," he replied.

"You fu—"

"As entertaining as this is, I expect the both of you in the assembly room, immediately."