In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(28)

His opponent, however, was the tiger to his bear. He was tall, his muscles cut and defined like he was specifically molded that way. Tape was wrapped around his ankles and the heels of his feet. Fingerless gloves protected his knuckles, but they hardly looked like they had any padding.

Mishca looked like a born fighter as he wiped the sweat from his brow, pushing the inky black strands of his hair out of his face. His gaze found Lauren’s, his pale eyes brightening as he smiled and winked at her.

She gave a slight wave, walking over to the edge of the cage so she would have a better view of the fight. Up close, she could see the slight sheen of sweat on his chest, some droplets descending down his chest. It was hard not to stare at the perfection he hid beneath his clothes.

Two eight-pointed stars were inked on either side of his chest, just below his collarbone, another set on his knees. Across his forearm was a setting sun, and a line of script on his bicep. There were also two more tattoos on his shoulders, but Lauren couldn’t remember what they were called.

Mishca came over with his usual slow stroll, crouching down until they were eye level. He smiled, revealing the fluorescent green mouthpiece before he removed it, wiping his mouth with the back of a gloved hand.

“I’m glad you could make it for my last fight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She glanced around, noticing they seemed to be the object of everyone’s attention. “You must be pretty popular around here,” she said jokingly, gesturing around at all the people with a wave of her hands.

Mishca’s eyes shifted from hers to just above her head. He barked something in Russian, his expression turning agitated for only a second before it cleared and he returned to her.“Ignore them. They’re not used to someone so pretty. ”

She rolled her eyes. “They see you everyday.”

He chuckled, touching a hand to his chest. “You flatter me.”

The sudden clamor of the audience clapping made them look to where the referee was climbing into the cage. He was a squat man, who seemed to look genuinely afraid although Lauren was sure he was in no danger of the actual fighters.

“Time to defend my title.”

Before heading to the center of the ring though, Mishca removed one of his gloves, fitting his hands through the fence to draw her forward. When she was close enough, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Lauren felt warm at his touch, wishing that she didn’t blush as much as she did where he was concerned. “Good luck, Mish.”

He strapped on his glove. “Who needs luck when I have you, moy dorogoy?”

With a two finger salute, he stepped forward, his demeanor shifting from cool indifference, to a predator.

The referee began citing the rules, telling the two to touch gloves before the fight was to begin. The crowd surrounding the cage grew and from their excited whispers, Lauren could hear they were excited to see Mishca fighting after his brutal win against a former opponent.

The bell rang and the surrounding people exploded with cheer, egging them on. Somehow, during the course of the first round, Lauren had lost her spot at the front, towering men obstructing her view. She wasn’t short by any means—about five-eight—but with these men, she felt petite next to them.

“Perhaps this will help, no?”

Vlad appeared in her peripheral carrying a chair for her to stand on. Unlike everyone else that was dressed in workout gear, he was still dressed in his customary suit, looked extremely out of place, not that he seemed to care.

“Hey Vlad,” she said as she climbed onto the chair with his assistance. “I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“I was around.”

Lauren waited, looking back at him, expecting him to elaborate, but as he stayed stonily silent, she looked back to the octagon. She had learned that he was a man of few words.

As she turned her attention back to the fight, she wondered whether or not he would have the night off. Last Friday, Tristan had made a point of asking, ‘so when are we going to meet the Russian bastard?’ while snatching a bowl of popcorn away from her, plopping down in his usual spot. It was true enough that she had opted out of the last three nights they had all come over, instead spending her time with Mishca. Because of it, they had all given her the ‘special treatment’ as they called it, mostly letting Tristan pelt her with food.

But that hadn’t been the turning point. It was Amber who had casually mentioned that she might disclose that Lauren had a boyfriend to Ross the next time she talked to him if she didn’t bring him around for them to vet. So there were her choice, introducing Mishca to her harebrained friends or knowing that Ross was going to do a background check as well as make a couple of calls to ensure he was legit…it was a no brainer.Despite her nervousness about it all, Mishca was surprisingly open to the idea, despite how secretive he seemed at times. In fact he was the one who had picked tonight—a fact that worked easily since it was their weekly hangout. This was the easy part, but not knowing what kind of stuff Tristan was going to pull made her more nervous than anything else.

Mishca jerked back suddenly as his opponent threw a wild punch, grinning in satisfaction as he blocked another hit with his elbow and slammed his fist into the man’s face, spinning out of the way before he could retaliate.

Lauren had always found the art of MMA intriguing, the years in which the fighters’ perfected their craft a testament to their dedication. The fighters she had seen on television in various UFC fights moved with an animal like grace as they expertly moved around the ring, dodging hits and landing their own as they fought for purchase against their opponents, and though she didn’t know whether or not Mishca had any formal training, he was just as skilled as he effortlessly beat down his opponent.