Savage: a Fighter Erotic Romance Novella by Christine Elliott Page B

the music to make my naturally soft voice heard.  “Sorry, I didn’t know.  I don’t really watch fights.”
    He paused, then looked up at me. 
    “Really, darlin’?  Then why you here?”
    “I ….”  I trailed off.  Jesus, he was beautiful.  That wasn’t a word I used much, but it totally applied to him.  His jaw was sharp and covered in grizzled five o’clock shadow, and his eyes were light and green like polished jade.  His dark hair was swept to the side away from his face, the strands intermingling with scars both old and new.  His nose was crooked as if it had been broken once and never set correctly.  He took my breath away.
    “Darlin’…?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
    I shook away my breathlessness.  Jesus, I was pathetic when there were pretty men around.  “I needed a place to stay.  It’s cold out.”
    He nodded and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket.  “Makes sense,” he said, lighting it up and taking a puff.  I watched the way his lips formed around it, entranced.  “You look half dead, kid.  We need to get something inside you.”
    My jaw dropped at such boldness, but then I saw him signal the bartender to bring over a drink.  I immediately closed my mouth and felt red creep into my cheeks.  Here I was assuming the worst when the poor guy just wanted to help me out.  I took the drink from the bartender, avoiding looking into her or the man’s eyes out of shame.
    So far this night was going wonderfully.
    “So this fight,” I said, desperate to change the subject and leave that faux pas in the past.  “What kind of fighting is it?” I asked, taking a sip of the drink he had bought for me. 
    Beer.  Gross. 
    I grimaced, and he laughed at my twisted up nose and frown.  I had always hated beer.
    “MMA, darlin’.  That’s where the best fights are at.”  He reached over and took the beer from me, signaling to the bar tender again.  “Can we have a Coke for the kid?” he called to her.
    She nodded, her blonde curls bobbing up and down in time with her massive hoop earrings.  I frowned as she walked away back to the kitchen. 
    “I’m not a kid,” I grumbled.
    “Well you’re certainly not doing well on your own,” he said, peering at me closer.  “Look at you, you’re damn near skin and bones.  Where are you staying?  Who is it that’s feeding you … or really not feeding you?”
    I ducked my head.  “I don’t stay with anybody.”
    “So…” he said, drawing the word out with his drawl. 
    God damn, it was sexy.  I imagined the sound of his voice as he said my name in that drawl, and a shiver when down my spine.  I tried to ignore it, anchoring myself back to reality.
    “I’m … independent.  I’m not tied down anywhere.”
    There was a moment where he examined me with those clear green eyes, and some new recognition slipped into them.  He leaned back, studying me.
    “You’re homeless,” he said simply.
    I shrugged noncommittally as the bartender brought me my Coke.
    “Ain’t safe for a girl like you to be homeless around here,” he said, rubbing his neck.  There was genuine worry in his voice, and it confused me.  Why should he care if I was safe?  I was a stranger.  A nobody.  I meant nothing to him.  “You sure you ain’t got nowhere to stay?”
    “I’ve got here,” I said, keeping my gaze down.
    He sighed.  “Well, yeah, but I know the owner of this joint, and he ain’t as charitable as I suspect you think he is.  Listen, kid, I’ve got some business to do, but I’ll be back in a little while, okay?  And when I get back, we’re finding you a place to stay.”
    I bristled.  “I’m not stupid enough to go home with someone I don’t know.”
    His eyes widened.  “I ain’t saying that, darlin’.  I’m saying I’m about to win some money, and you need it more than I do.  Use it to find a place to sleep tonight, alright?”
    “Win some money?” I asked, genuinely curious.  I leaned