Untamed (134 page)

They fucking love me.

I don’t just hear the crowd, I
feel
them. Their collective voices, the screeching and cheering, and all their clapping, it shakes the air. I feel it on the beads of sweat that sit on my skin, this buzz, this vibration. I’ve just been warming up in the back on the bike, but now, beneath the bright lights, with the audience chanting my name, I’m
heating up
.

I throw off my robe. I don’t do any bullshit showy poses. I don’t flex my biceps or my lats. I don’t howl or growl or woof or bark.

I just walk around the cage.

Tonight is fight night.

Illegal, underground, unlicensed, whatever you want to call it. You walk in, and you don’t win anything unless you’re the one walking out. It’s just one fight, and the winner takes the pot. That’s always me.

People in the front rows have their hands out. They want to touch me. They want to feel the slick sweat on my skin, the heat in my flesh, the hard muscle packed tight on my body.

Who the fuck am I?

I’m motherfucking Pierce Fletcher, and I’m the best underground fighter in Australia. Probably the world, too.

“Pierce! Pierce!”

The women are screaming my name. They’re everywhere, bikini tops and micro-shorts, crop tops and miniskirts, deep-Vs and backless dresses. Everyone from everywhere is here to watch me.

They’ve got their arms up, they’re dancing, sweating, oozing sex, with full lips or fake lips, and full tits or fake tits. They’re writhing and wriggling, shaking their hips, giving me
the look
.