Silence fell as Vincent’s fist hit his opponent’s jaw and sent him sprawling to the ground. Every part of Sabine was still – her breath, her gaze, the fingers that clutched the fabric of her skirt. She stared at the ring, willing the man to push himself to his feet and finish the job he’d started.
Willing him to finish the job she’d started.
He groaned, twitched, and attempted to rise to his feet. But he was swaying, and anyone who was paying close attention would see that his eyes were foggy and unfocused. He blinked sluggishly and took an unsteady step forward. If Vincent allowed him to stay standing, the man would lunge towards him one last time before being easily put down.
Should Vincent finish the fight, the spectators would erupt into cheers and Sabine would erupt like a volcano. As the man was dragged out of the ring by his friends, Sabine shoved her empty glass into the hand of the woman standing next to her and lifted her skirt to her knees to tie the fabric into a thick knot before pushing her way forward into the fighting ring.
That was the last time she allowed anyone else to fight her battles.
“One more?” It wasn’t a question. The demand was spat across the ring, revealing an ugliness that had come hand-in-hand with her anger.
Surprised laughter echoed around the room – this girl, this server, wanting to fight the strange man who had already beaten two fighters? In a skirt and corset, no less? It was a joke, surely.
How little they knew about Sabine Qe'azour.
“I’m next,” she insisted, balling up her fists and swallowing her uncertainty as she glared at Vincent's big, dumb, handsome face. Fury and stubbornness radiated from her in waves, even as the idiocy of her actions was reiterated by the crowd’s murmurs. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
Willing him to finish the job she’d started.
He groaned, twitched, and attempted to rise to his feet. But he was swaying, and anyone who was paying close attention would see that his eyes were foggy and unfocused. He blinked sluggishly and took an unsteady step forward. If Vincent allowed him to stay standing, the man would lunge towards him one last time before being easily put down.
Should Vincent finish the fight, the spectators would erupt into cheers and Sabine would erupt like a volcano. As the man was dragged out of the ring by his friends, Sabine shoved her empty glass into the hand of the woman standing next to her and lifted her skirt to her knees to tie the fabric into a thick knot before pushing her way forward into the fighting ring.
That was the last time she allowed anyone else to fight her battles.
“One more?” It wasn’t a question. The demand was spat across the ring, revealing an ugliness that had come hand-in-hand with her anger.
Surprised laughter echoed around the room – this girl, this server, wanting to fight the strange man who had already beaten two fighters? In a skirt and corset, no less? It was a joke, surely.
How little they knew about Sabine Qe'azour.
“I’m next,” she insisted, balling up her fists and swallowing her uncertainty as she glared at Vincent's big, dumb, handsome face. Fury and stubbornness radiated from her in waves, even as the idiocy of her actions was reiterated by the crowd’s murmurs. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
