Introduction
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Azu
Chapter 1
Holly me crie dans l'oreille depuis une demi-heure et mes nerfs sont tellement à vif à cause de ce que nous sommes en train de voir que je n'entends presque rien. Seulement mon cœur. Battant comme un fou dans ma tête alors que les deux combattants dans le ring de boxe clandestin se ruent l'un sur l'autre, les deux hommes de même taille et poids, tous deux extrêmement musclés, se frappant violemment au visage.
Chaque fois que l'un d'eux porte un coup, des acclamations et des applaudissements éclatent dans la salle, bondée d'au moins trois cents spectateurs, tous assoiffés de sang. Le pire, c'est que j'entends le bruit épouvantable des os craquant contre la chair, et les poils de mes bras se dressent de peur. À tout moment, je m'attends à ce que l'un d'eux tombe et ne se relève jamais.
« Chelsea ! » Holly, ma meilleure amie, pousse un cri strident et me serre dans ses bras. « Tu as l'air prête à vomir, ce n'est vraiment pas ton truc ! »
Je vais vraiment la tuer.
Dès que je détourne les yeux de ces hommes et que je m'assure qu'ils respirent tous les deux à la fin de ce round, je vais assassiner ma meilleure amie sans pitié. Et puis moi-même pour avoir accepté de venir ici en premier lieu.
Mais ma pauvre, chère Holly a un nouveau coup de cœur, et dès qu'elle a découvert que l'objet de ses fantasmes nocturnes était en ville pour participer à ces jeux de combat clandestins « privés » et très « dangereux », elle m'a suppliée de l'accompagner pour le voir. C'est difficile de dire non à Holly. Elle est exubérante et insistante, et maintenant elle saute de joie.
« Il est le prochain », murmure-t-elle, se fichant de qui a gagné ce dernier round, ou même s'ils ont survécu. Apparemment, par chance, ils ont tous les deux survécu. « Prépare-toi à voir un véritable bonbon pour les yeux, Chelsea ! »
Le public se tait, et l'annonceur appelle, « Mesdames et messieurs, et maintenant... le moment que vous attendiez tous, l'homme que vous êtes tous venus voir. Le plus méchant des méchants, je vous présente, l'unique, Ken "Reptil" Lewis ! »
Un frisson me parcourt l'échine alors que la foule devient folle rien qu'à l'évocation de son nom, surtout les femmes, et leurs cris impatients se chevauchent les uns les autres.
« Ken ! Je t'aime, Ken ! »
« Je te sucerai, Ken ! »
« KEN, BAISE-MOI, KEN ! »
« Ken, je veux ton ... ! »
Tous les regards se tournent vers une silhouette dans une cape rouge à capuche qui trotte vers le ring. Apparemment, les combattants de ce soir ne portent pas de gants de boxe, et je vois ses doigts se fléchir et se serrer à ses côtés, ses mains énormes et bronzées, ses doigts longs.
De l'autre côté du ring, une femme agite fièrement une affiche où il est écrit « KEN'S #1 BITCH » en direction de Ken, hurlant à plein poumons dans sa direction—au cas où il ne saurait pas lire ou manquerait les lettres néon roses ou les paillettes.
Je suis tellement stupéfaite, réalisant seulement maintenant que ma meilleure amie folle n'est pas la seule femme à Chicago à avoir perdu la tête pour ce type, quand je la sens me serrer le bras. « Je te défie de le regarder et de me dire que tu ne ferais rien pour cet homme. »
« Je ne ferais rien pour cet homme », répète-je instantanément, juste pour gagner.
« Tu ne regardes pas ! » s'écrie-t-elle. « Regarde-le. Regarde. »
Elle me saisit le visage et dirige mon regard vers le ring, mais je commence à rire à la place. Holly adore les hommes. Elle aime coucher avec eux, les traquer, baver devant eux, et pourtant, quand elle les attrape, elle ne peut jamais vraiment les garder. Moi, en revanche, je ne suis pas intéressée à m'impliquer avec qui que ce soit.
Pas quand ma petite sœur romantique, Lily, a eu assez de petits amis et de drames pour nous deux.
Je fixe la scène alors que le gars retire la robe rouge satinée avec le mot REPTILE dans le dos, et les spectateurs se lèvent en criant et en applaudissant alors qu'il se tourne lentement pour les saluer tous. Son visage apparaît soudain devant moi, illuminé par les lumières, et je reste là à le regarder comme une idiote. Mon dieu.
Mon.
Dieu.
Des fossettes.
Une mâchoire sombre et mal rasée.
Un sourire de garçon. Un corps d'homme.
Un bronzage à tomber.
Un frisson me parcourt l'échine alors que je bois désespérément tout ce que tout le monde semble admirer.
Il a les cheveux noirs, dressés sexy comme si des femmes venaient d'y passer leurs doigts. Des pommettes aussi fortes que sa mâchoire et son front. Des lèvres rouges et gonflées, et comme souvenir de son trajet jusqu'au ring, il y a du rouge à lèvres sur sa mâchoire. Je descends son long corps élancé et quelque chose de chaud et sauvage s'installe en moi.
Il est hypnotiquement parfait et incroyablement musclé. Tout, de ses hanches finement dessinées et de sa taille étroite à ses larges épaules, est solide. Et ces abdos. Non. Ce sont des abdos en huit. Le V sexy de ses obliques plonge dans ses shorts satinés bleu marine, qui épousent délicatement ses jambes puissantes, épaisses de muscles. Je peux voir ses quadriceps, trapèzes, pectoraux et biceps, tous magnifiquement tendus et découpés. Des tatouages celtiques entourent ses deux bras, exactement là où ses biceps gonflés et les deltoïdes carrés et rigides de ses épaules se rejoignent.
“Ken ! Ken !” crie Mel hystériquement à côté de moi, les mains en coupe autour de sa bouche.
“Tu es tellement sexy, Ken !”
Sa tête s'incline vers le son, une fossette apparaissant avec un sourire sexy alors qu'il nous fait face. Une frisson d'énergie nerveuse me traverse, non pas parce qu'il est extrêmement magnifique de cette vue parfaite—car il l'est, il l'est vraiment, mon dieu, il l'est vraiment—mais surtout parce qu'il me regarde droit dans les yeux.
Un sourcil se lève, et il y a une lueur d'amusement dans ses yeux bleus fascinants. Aussi quelque chose de… chaleureux dans son regard. Comme s'il pensait que c'était moi qui avais crié. Oh, merde.
Il me fait un clin d'œil, et je suis stupéfaite alors que son sourire s'estompe lentement, se transformant en un sourire insupportablement intime.
Mon sang bouillonne.
Mon sexe se contracte, et je déteste qu'il semble le savoir.
Je peux voir qu'il pense être la création ultime, et il semble croire que chaque femme ici est son Ève, créée à partir de sa cage thoracique pour qu'il puisse en profiter. Je suis à la fois excitée et furieuse, et c'est le sentiment le plus déroutant que j'aie jamais ressenti de ma vie.
Ses lèvres se plient, et il se tourne lorsque son adversaire est annoncé avec les mots, “Deck Moon, La Scie, ici pour vous tous ce soir !”
“Petite salope, Holly !” je crie en me ressaisissant, la poussant en riant. “Pourquoi as-tu dû crier comme ça ? Maintenant il pense que je suis la folle.”
“Omigod ! Il ne vient pas de te faire un clin d'œil,” dit Holly, visiblement stupéfaite.
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Comments

Visiteur
bon livre, prenant
08/05/2025 18:47
Visiteur
Brooke ?? nouveau personnage je comprends pas pourquoi il y a autant d’erreurs dans les noms ? 🤷🏼♀️
07/27/2025 20:30
Visiteur
bon livre
07/25/2025 12:25
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Author Note:New book out now! The River Knows Her Name
Mystery, secrets, suspense—your next page-turner is here.
About Author

Azu
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