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Narrowing my eyes, I growled, “I was a virgin to a lot of things before we met.”
That squeezed a chuckle out of him, the sound catching the attention of several other guests nearby. From the look of pure shock on their faces, it left me with the heavy question of how often this man actually laughed in public.
“Tonight…we have a series of powerful fights lined up for you.” The referee started pacing around the outer part of the ring. For every snarl that was thrown in his direction, he simply smirked in return. “The underground’s rising star will endure a series of challenges in order to win the right to be crowned the new victor. One loss and he will fail.”
I cocked my head to the side, following the man around the ring. “How many fights do they usually set up on a night like this?”
The prince returned his attention to the arena. He lifted his chin slightly. “Six.”
The air caught in my throat as my mind worked a mile a minute to process everything and connect the necessary pieces. “Do they really expect one man to fight against six different people? In one night?”
Another snicker rumbled from Asher’s chest. The very sound seemed to leave a nearby woman ready to faint, all while he was blissfully oblivious to the reactions he was causing. “Sol’s previous champion just retired, pet. That leaves the rest of his fighters with the chance to prove themselves. Doesn’t mean they can grab the belt that easily. They have to win the right to wear and protect it.”
The explanation left me reeling, which was only yet another reminder that I wasn’t brought up in this world. Asher was accustomed to every single thing that was going down tonight. The requirements for a new champion didn’t faze him like it did me. Blowing out a slow breath, I fixed my eyes on the arena again. “So. in order for someone to claim the belt…to protect it…they have to successfully get through all six fights and still be standing at the end.”
“Bingo.”
That was the last thing I ever expected to come out of his mouth and the realization that it had left me giggling.
“Hailing from the heart of Central America, our first challenger is new to the underground scene.” The referee draws back against the wired wall while a new man emerges from backstage, strolling down the cement runway. He swept a hand in the fighter’s direction. “Does Diego Lackester have a chance of bringing down our possible champ?”
The entire crowd rose to their feet, roaring a wave of mixed responses. There were some that seemed to think Diego might actually have a chance at dethroning a king before he could even be crowned while others thought it was a huge waste of time — and money — for Sol to even throw him on the roster.
Still, Diego didn’t seem to care about the negative feedback. He simply bounded around the cage and onto the ring. He jammed two fists into the air as he released a thunderous shout that managed to overpower all the screaming around me.
While this man seemed to be overly confident about his ability, the referee didn’t seem to carry the same opinion. He shifted his hand back toward the entrance with a mischievous smirk painted on his face. “And now…for the moment you’ve all been waiting for…our possible champion, coming from the heart of the demonic empire! Antonio Rael!”
I could sense the tension leaking off of Asher long before I noticed the muscles in his jaw flexing. Pressing my lips together, I threw a quick peek at him to confirm that even those piercing eyes had narrowed into thin slits. There was something about Antonio that seemed to get under the prince’s skin. As much as I wanted to question him about it, I knew better than to attempt it in public. The irritation lurking just beneath his skin was nothing compared to what simmered in Antonio.
Right off the bat, I could tell he was a demon and he seemed to sense the prince once he came within range. His brown eyes swung in our direction. At first, he was entirely focused on Asher. That upper lip curled and a muffled snarl ripped from his lips. It wasn’t until he realized the prince had shown up with company of a different sex that his steps faltered for a moment. Once his attention drifted toward me, he almost stumbled.
It almost felt like Malakai was taking a whiff of me all over again, except this time Antonio was attempting to see into the depths of my soul while he attempted to figure out if I had been lucky enough to get seated by the prince of demons - or if I was actually there as his guest. By the time he drew close to the entrance of the cage, his upper lip curled. It was clear he had figured out I definitely held meaning to Asher and that just seemed to leave him enraged. He ripped his gaze from us, storming into the caged ring.
The referee straightened immediately, bringing himself into the middle of the ring. He gestured for each fighter to take the opposite side of the ring. Although Diego was more than willing to heed the request, Antonio seemed more eager to get as close as he could get before the referee was forced to cut him off.
Antonio’s nostrils flared as he glared at his opponent. There were almost two feet of difference between his height and the ballsy being attempting to stop the fight from starting too early. He was more than aware of how he towered over the poor soul. Although the rage pulsed through his body with so much strength that it terrified me, he did eventually back into his side of the ring.
“Gentlemen… You will have three minutes to obtain the chance to progress to the next round. Only three minutes.” The referee’s hazel eyes flickered from Diego to Antonio. “Are you ready?”
“Fucking start this already or I will!” Antonio snarled.
A chanting immediately sprang up from the crowd, every single one of these souls sensing the rage and feeding off it. It wasn’t long until the noise echoed off the walls. The sound was becoming so deafening that the referee was beginning to cower from the sheer sound of it. He had no choice but to flick his hand.
As soon as the bell rang, both men lunged at each other. While Antonio’s lips curled to expose a double set of fangs, Diego released a sharp breath that reminded me of a rabid wolf. It didn’t matter if the shifter had every intention of delivering the first blow, his opponent was pissed off enough to beat him to it.
Antonio slammed his fist into the shifter’s cheek, enough force behind the strike that it sent Diego right back up against the cage wall. The sound of bone crunching was barely muffled by the metal chains rattling. He was quick to follow it up with another blow that met the shifter as he stumbled forward. Every single blow he dished out resulted in a line of blood splattering down along the mat.
I sucked in a sharp breath as Diego went down from his head smacking against the thick wiring. His cheek had already split from the first blow with crimson droplets oozing from the fresh wound. My stomach was churning from the faint smell of iron in the air, already merging with a hint of sweat. While there was a part of me that yearned to avert my gaze with a feeble attempt to shut the fight out, I couldn’t find the strength within myself to look away.
There was so much rage behind Antonio’s strikes that I was paralyzed.
It didn’t matter that his opponent had already been knocked to the mat. Antonio was more than willing to keep delivering the next violent punch. He wasn’t even aware of the referee trying to force him back, even when the poor soul was attempting to squeeze in between them. He simply slumped down to continue the brutal beating. It wasn’t until the bell rang that he finally pulled away with a livid snarl.
The referee immediately dropped to his knees, checking for a pulse. Although the relief was evident in his eyes that the shifter was still breathing, he gestured at the two medics waiting off to the side to bring the stretcher. With them on their way, he rose from the ground and spun around. “You know the rules! You are required to give your opponent a chance to get off the ground before you deliver the next strike. I should have you disqualified!”
Antonio was quick to get in the man’s face with a loud growl. “Are you willing to risk the rage of the crowd? They’ll turn against you the moment you attempt to do that. Sol won’t even be able to save you by the time someone rips you apart.”
Any inner strength the poor referee had seemed to dissipate as the full weight of his reality was shoved into his face. He paled and his words faltered into silence.
