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The referee made a feeble attempt to lay down some ground rules - most of them meant to help protect Asher from any serious harm. His words were soon lost amongst the loud chanting until the bell finally rang.
With so much rage tearing through them, it was anyone’s game as to who would land the initial strike. The fact Antonio managed to successfully start the match with his own fist landing the first blow didn’t do a damn thing for the nausea swirling within me.
The air caught in my throat as I watched Asher’s head get slapped toward the other direction. It didn’t take him long to return his attention to the livid demon, except now he was sporting a fresh wound just like Diego had. The knot in my stomach grew so painful that I felt ready to faint.
Or vomit. Whichever came first.
Antonio came at him with every intention of striking him down and beating him into submission like he had during the previous match with the shifter. What he didn’t anticipate was both his rage and his cockiness to turn against him so quickly.
Asher immediately pulled to the left, causing the demon’s fist to miss horribly. With his opponent now unbalanced from the stray strike, he was quick to throw out a few of his own. It didn’t even seem to matter that the punches didn’t knock him down, not when he had one hell of a kick to do the job for him.
Despite the fact that he was essentially thrown into a roll until he slammed against the cage wall, it didn’t take long for the shock to wear off. Antonio’s dark eyes quickly sought us out and that rage returned in full force. He rolled away from the metal with a livid snarl.
“Have you had enough?” Asher curled his upper lip to expose his fangs.
Antonio responded by bearing his own. “Not even fucking close, asshole!” He lunged for the prince, eager to go another round. When they tangled this time, it took more than a few strikes to create some distance.
They were content to remain up close to deliver the blows.
Sol’s jaw flexed. “Tank would be insulted.”
It hadn’t taken long for the crowd to rise onto their feet, hooting and roaring with every strike that was delivered. It didn’t even matter who managed to land the blow as long as a new wound was created. The expression painted on Sol’s face revealed just how livid he was at the current predicament.
I grimaced when Antonio managed to catch Asher on the same cheek that had already been split open. It was one thing to watch the blood oozing down his skin. Being able to smell it was another. While my stomach churned at the sight of the crimson droplets scattering on the mat below them, my mouth watered. Every part of my body tensed at the startling realization. Why am I reacting to the smell of his blood?
As much as I wanted to shut out the fight until this strange desire within me faded, I couldn’t stop my eyes from swinging back toward the cage when the noises from the crowd shifted into stunned groans. My heart was already skidding to a halt with the powerful fear that I would be watching the prince crumble onto the filthy mat.
It wasn’t Asher that had gone down - it was Antonio. All it had taken from the prince was a swift kick directly to the chest to fling his opponent back against the cage walls. There was so much force built up behind it that Antonio could do nothing as his head slammed into the metal. He slumped down onto the ground with a baffled expression painted on his face.
The second he hit the mat, the entire arena was on their feet with delighted roars.
“Serves the bastard right.” Sol scowled, easing up out of the chair.
If it wasn’t for everyone else already towering over me, I wouldn’t have found the strength to move. My legs trembled beneath me as I straightened my back and waited for the prince to leave the ring.
Asher was content to tower over Antonio until the referee did his part and the bell finally symbolized the end of the match. The scoff he offered the fallen demon was silent, yet the action was enough. He’d known from the start how the match was going to go down.
Clearly, this wasn’t the first time they’d swapped lashes.
I couldn’t find it within me to draw in deep breaths until Asher finally left the ring and strolled toward us.
Delighted remarks sprang up behind us, although Sol appeared far from pleased about the fight. He simply kept his arms crossed over his chest while the prince joined us at the seats. “Sometimes I forget how much you are like your father,” he grumbled.
Asher’s eyebrow twitched. “Would you rather I back down like a coward, uncle?”
Shivers trickled down my spine. That explained why he chose an underground fight. Sol was family, no doubt from his mother’s side. Still, it was comforting to see a theme from those I had been introduced to so far. Even with the anger still coursing through his uncle, it was clear he gave a damn about the prince for more than just him being royalty.
Tsking, Sol gestured for both of us to follow him into the back while the medics saw to Antonio in the ring. “Let’s get you cleaned up, kid.”
I had no problem trailing after them, not with Aydin bringing up the rear. I had forgotten about his presence during all the chaos with the final match. Hell, my nerves were still struggling to calm down. It would take physical contact and it looked like I’d have to just deal with it while Asher got his wounds tended to. I bit down on my lower lip hard, struggling to ignore the way the hair was rising on the back of my neck.
Somewhere, someone was watching me like a chunk of prey that was about to get away.
ASHER
Quinn was pissed.
I could feel the dormant anger swirling within her the entire time Sol tended to the wounds I’d obtained during the match. While it did sting, my pride was intact and that made the whole goddamn thing worth it. I kept my eyes trained ahead until the final one had been cleaned out, opting just to let the damn things breathe instead of accepting bandages on my face.
