Silence 4.5 (2 page)

Besides, she didn’t trust Sebastian Black. The fact that they were all being separated didn’t bode well, in her opinion.

“Can’t she stay here with us,” Missy spoke up, for the first time. “She’s not actually fighting

– at least not yet. I’d rather have her here with me.”

Those damn eyebrows of his rose again, looking from Missy to Garrett, as though he was surprised that the woman had even spoken. It made Pixie want to throw something at him. Clenching her fists, she turned her back to him again, lest the urge to do so grew too strong, and she end up getting herself killed on the first day.

“Rules are rules, I’m afraid, sweetheart,” Garrett said awkwardly. “I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” He looked to Pixie, a clear question in his eyes. While she really didn’t want to go, she also didn’t want them worrying about her the whole time. Taking a deep breath, she gave him a subtle nod to say she’d be okay, and left it at that.

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled,” Bastian said, clapping his hands loudly, causing her to jump at the unexpected sound. “We’ll leave you two to get settled then. There will be a fight tomorrow night that I’m sure you’ll love. I’ll make sure to have two seats in the front row reserved for you.”

She distantly heard Garrett mumble his thanks, but at that point her mind was too focused on the feeling of the hand that had suddenly wrapped itself around her upper arm. While his grip was firm, he didn’t hurt her as he led her out of the room back into the hall. The door to Missy and Garrett’s room slammed shut behind them, as though sealing her fate.

She didn’t know yet just how true that was.

CHAPTER TWO

They walked down the hall in silence, his hand still burning through the thin fabric of her shirt into her bare skin. She kept her head down, while still taking note of where they were for future reference. If she thought that Bastian would attempt some sort of conversation on this little walk, she was wrong. He was as silent as she. And surprisingly, it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was as though they were both more comfortable without conversation, whereas most people tended to fill any silence with useless babble.

“Hey there, Mr. Black,” came a voice suddenly.

Pixie looked up through her lashes at the two people walking toward them. One was a bald, chubby, ruddy faced man, whose smile was so wide she could see the gold caps in his teeth. The woman with him was tall and willowy, her face painted heavily with make-up, and her hair styled to perfection. A long, red dress draped down her body, clinging to her in a way that Pixie assumed men liked.

Looking down at her plain, black tights, and long sleeved t-shirt, she could see why most guys would look right past her. Not that her clothes weren’t also tight, it was just that she didn’t have much to show off, the way the other woman had. And why was she even comparing herself to this woman? She glanced up at the beautiful man beside her, and instantly blamed him. Men that looked like Bastian Black made girls act stupidly. That was the only explanation for her current sudden case of idiocy. Looking at him, it was hard to remember he was a lowlife, scumbag.

“Mr. Coiffer,” Bastian greeted back. Pixie eyed him again, hearing a tinge of irritation in his response. Something told her Mr. Black was not a fan of the bald man.

“My wife and I are so excited to see tomorrow’s fight,” he said, stopping in front of them. Black pulled her to a halt just beside him, keeping his hand on her arm. Looking up, she noticed the woman frown at the point where they were connected, looking back and forth between them. From the way she was eye-fucking Bastian, Pixie would bet there was something more exciting than a fight that Mr. Coiffer’s wife wanted. That bothered her for some reason, making Pixie glare back at the woman when their eyes finally met.

“Good to hear, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. If you’ll excuse us,” he replied, tightening his hold slightly as he started to leave, moving around the two of them.

“Your girl there is tiny. Is she a fighter?”

“I am not his girl,” Pixie said instantly, the words flying from her lips before she could even think about it. The hall went deadly quiet. She looked at Bastian, to see him staring at her, his face unreadable. She stared back, not knowing what else to do. Normally she didn’t speak up that way, but her reaction had come without warning. They seemed to be challenging one another in front of this other couple. What the challenge was, Pixie couldn’t be certain. She also couldn’t decide who had won when he finally looked away.

“She is indeed – a fighter,” he answered, pausing. Meeting her gaze again, she saw something flicker in the deep depths of blue there. Whatever it was, she didn’t think it boded well for her. “Not mine though, no. I was just about to take her to the ring, to see just how good of a fighter she is.”

He was doing what now? Pixie cocked a brow at him, but kept her silence this time. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she royally pissed off the man in charge of all this. Her main priority was to get her friends out of here, at whatever cost. Actually fighting in the ring though hadn’t been on her list of things to do. Her stomach twisted as the corners of his lips lifted. Bastian smiled at her obvious discomfort, and she hated giving him any sort of victory.

“Well, have fun then,” the man said awkwardly. The way Pixie and Bastian locked into each other’s eyes, it was as though they were the only ones there. She got the feeling the other two noticed the same thing, and quickly made their exit.

“I am not to fight,” Pixie said when they were gone.

“You are not to argue,” he replied.

“You’re not my master.”

He tilted his head. “No? I run these fights, and everything here. You’re a fighter. You’re under my roof, therefore you will listen to what I have to say.” He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Pixie wanted to back up, but the wall was suddenly behind her, leaving her no room to maneuver. Had he been backing her up the whole time? She hadn’t even been aware. He stood now, inches away from her, the smell and heat of him invading her senses in a way she wasn’t exactly comfortable with.

She looked up at him hesitantly, her breath lodging in her throat as he bent his head toward her.

“Do you have nothing more to say?” he asked darkly, his voice just above a whisper.

Pixie shook her head. Even if she’d wanted to speak, she doubted her voice would work. With a grunt of either satisfaction at her muteness, or disappointment that she was no longer putting up a fight, he pulled her along again, reverting back to the silence. Although this time it was a tense silence, and for once Pixie wished someone else was there to fill it.

Bastian didn’t know what to make of the girl. With her tiny stature and her hair pulled tightly back into a bun, she reminded him more of a ballerina than a fighter. She seemed dainty and fragile, if not for the cold, hard stare of her eyes. There was something about her that had him spellbound, and he didn’t understand it.

Bastian had known many women in his life, but none had instantly grabbed his interest the way the girl beside him had. He kept his hold on her, more for the delight of being able to touch her than anything else. It wasn’t as though he was afraid she’d run from him, because she wouldn’t get very far. No, he was making a complete fool of himself, he just didn’t know why.

Secrets lay beneath those blue eyes that seemed to stare right through him. She was withdrawn, yet he knew a deep pool of intelligence resided there. It made him want to keep a closer watch on her than any of the others. Never one to ignore his gut instinct, he decided right then that he’d have to watch his little dancer carefully.

The fact that she had so adamantly denied being his, bugged him more than anything. Women had always vied for his attention. Shit, even the wife of that pompous ass was practically begging him to do whatever he wanted with her, right in front of her husband. But this girl here wanted no association whatsoever. It bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

Bringing them to one of the practice areas, he led her in and directly to the ring, finally letting go of her there. Turning away, he motioned to one of the other girls to get in. This one didn’t hesitate to listen, her eyes clearly showing her fear of him. Whereas his tiny dancer simply stood beside him, not moving.

“What’s your name?” he asked, turning now to her again.

She watched the other woman, her expression giving nothing away, although he swore he could feel the anger radiating from her eyes.

“Does it matter?” she asked, not bothering to look at him.

He pushed down his irritation at being so clearly dismissed. “Would you rather I give you a name?” he asked, challengingly. He knew she would hate him to do anything for her, most of all name her.

She remained silent for another moment before sighing. “Pixie,” she answered.

This surprised him. While the name certainly fit, he doubted it was the one she was born with. “Truly?” he asked.

Finally turning her head, she met his eyes with her own. “It’s what everyone calls me, so yes.”

Why that angered him even more he couldn’t say. He wanted to know her real name, although doubted he’d get it. “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth that he tried to relax but couldn’t seem to. “Get in there, Pixie. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

She looked away again, measuring the opponent now waiting for her. “I don’t see the point,” she finally said with another sigh. “I’m not intended to fight in one of your matches. I’m simply here to watch.”

“Humour me,” he said, as way of an explanation. He didn’t really know why he was pushing this, but he was desperate to see what she could do. It would also let him watch her without having to hide it.

“Why should I do anything for you?” she asked, looking back at him with a raised eyebrow.

He smiled slowly, letting his mirth shine through. When was the last time someone had challenged him so? Red, one of his newest fighters, certainly seemed to like to nettle him. But this girl was different. He had a suspicion she didn’t waste words on too many people, and yet for him she seemed to mince few. “Humour me,” he said again.

Pursing her lips, she hesitated for only a moment more before climbing between the ropes and entering the ring. Bastian stood back as one of his trainers climbed in with the girls, speaking to them both in the middle of the ring. The one girl nodded, while his Pixie simply stood there, still as a statue.

His Pixie?

What the fuck?

He didn’t want to look into that thought too deeply, even though nothing about it felt wrong. His eye never left her lithe form as she made her way to the opposite corner. The trainer followed, helping her to put on sparring equipment before they began. While the real fights were all-out, no holds barred type fights, practices were as safe as he could make them. Despite what the people who came here to bet on his fights thought, he didn’t actually let the fighters kill each other. Of course, no one knew that other than his closest circle.

Once a man – or woman – was down, they brought them straight to medical aid. That being said, their fighting careers were over, so in some ways they were dead. There would be no chance for anyone to make a comeback once they’d lost. A few times they’d actually lost a fighter or two to their injuries, but for the most part they pulled through.

Why the ruse? Because it made those people betting that much more excited. What bigger stakes were there, but to fight for one’s life? It was the ultimate challenge, and people ate it up. They loved it. There were many times during the main fights that Bastian would simply look around and be disgusted.

Did he make his living off this shit? Hell yeah. Was he proud of it? Not always, but hell, in this world, everyone had to do what they could to survive. Bastian didn’t want to just survive though, he wanted to thrive. He wanted the same luxuries the Uppers had, but on his own terms. He wouldn’t be a puppet for the New World leader, and he certainly wasn’t living in no ghetto. That only left the Outlands, and that is where he’d gone to seek his fortune.

Bastian Black had even more than the stupid Uppers in New Berlin. He had connections to things they didn’t even know about. That made him better than all of them – in his opinion. And really, it was his own opinion that really mattered, no one else’s. Watching Pixie, he couldn’t help but wonder what she must think of him. It irritated him to think she thought badly of him, but of course, why wouldn’t she?

Fuck it, he thought. If some girl he barely knew thought he was a piece of shit, why should he care? She was no one to him. And this strange feeling spreading across his chest that was trying to negate those sentiments could just go to hell too. He did not give a damn what anyone thought.

That was how he’d made it as far as he had. If he’d allowed himself to actually care, he’d still be living in some run down building, in the middle of a stinking ghetto.

The trainer blew the whistle, and the two girls stepped toward the middle of the ring to meet again. From then on, Bastian questioned whether he was watching a fight or a dance. Pixie moved around the ring like she was born to fight, her lean limbs striking out quickly, and retreating before the other girl even knew what had hit her. She reminded him almost of a hummingbird with her fast movements. She moved in a blur.