Page 35 of Devour

I drive my elbow backward into his ribs. He doesn’t let go. I do it again, harder, and I feel something crack under the impact. He grunts, but the rope stays tight. My lungs are burning.

I drop my weight and throw myself forward, pulling him over my back. He flips over my shoulder and hits the stone on his back. The rope goes slack. I’m on him before he can get up. I grab his head and twist. The snap makes the crowd cheer.

I stand up, and the air rushes back into my lungs, and my throat is raw. I can feel the rope burn already swelling against my skin. The crowd is loud, but the fight isn’t over.

The man with the blade comes at me fast. The blade flashes. I pull back and it cuts across my forearm. The cut is shallow, but it bleeds immediately and the sting is sharp. He slashes again. I move my head, and the blade catches the edge of my ear. Blood runs down my neck.

He’s quicker than I expected. I need to get inside his reach.

He stabs forward. I sidestep and catch his wrist and twist it hard enough that the bones grind. He screams, but he doesn’t drop the knife. Tough little fucker. I twist harder and snap his wrist. The blade clatters to the stone.

He headbutts me. His forehead connects with my jaw, and I see stars for a second. Then he puts his mouth close to my ear. He’s breathing hard.

“Someone wants you dead.” He spits blood in my face. “If I don’t kill you, he will.”

The Sinclairs wouldn’t set me up. There’s only one person I know who keeps trying to take me out. It’s going to take a lot more than these three fucks.

If Justin Carter thinks that anyone will stop me from having Saylor, he’s dead fucking wrong.

I grab the man in the cage with me by the throat with one hand and lift. His feet come off the ground. He’s clawing at my wrist with his broken hand and his good one, and neither is doing shit. I look into his eyes, and he can see exactly what’s coming.

“He’s just as dead as you are.”

I twist his neck until it breaks and let him drop.

I’m standing in the center of the cage with blood running down my arm and my neck. My knuckles are split, and the cut on my forearm is dripping onto the stone.

I rip my mask off, and my focus lands on my girl. Saylor is gripping the bench with both hands, and her chest is heaving. She’s staring back at me, and I can see it on her face even from here. She’s not scared. She’s turned on. I can’t wait to feel how wet her panties are.

That’s my fucking girl.

The cage opens. The crowd is loud. I don’t give a shit as I sprint across the arena and climb the concrete benches to get to her. The crowd gasps, and people scoot out of the way.

I grab her by the throat and pull her mouth to mine, kissing her in front of all of them. I might not be able to fuck her yet, but there are no rules about kissing what’s going to be mine. And if her brother thought he was going to stop me from having her, he can fucking watch this. They all can. Because Saylor Reign Carter is about to be mine.

She tastes so fucking sweet. Her mouth is warm, and her lips are soft. She doesn’t pull away. She grabs the front of my shirt with both fists and pulls me closer. Her moans against my mouth go straight to my dick. It takes every ounce of control I have not to rip that white dress off her body and get the claiming done right now.

My blood is on her face. I can feel it smearing from the cut on my ear onto her cheek, and she doesn’t flinch. She kisses me harder. Her tongue slides against mine, and my cock is so hard it hurts. My hand tightens on her throat, and her pulse races under my fingers.

The crowd is losing their shit with a mixture of whispers and cheers. This isn’t part of the ceremony, but I don’t give a fuck.

I pull back just enough to look at her. Her lips are swollen, and my blood is on her mouth and cheek. Her eyes are glazed over, and her chest is heaving.

“You’re so fucking mine,” I tell her. My voice is low so that only she can hear it. “Get ready, little heathen.”

Her fingers tighten on my shirt. “Then you’d better catch me.”

Kynlee is staring at us with her mouth open. The Doves around us are whispering. A few of the founding-family members in the upper section are on their feet. The Ravens love a show, and I’m fucking giving them one.

I let go of her throat. My thumb drags across her jaw, and I hold her beautiful green eyes for one more second before I turn and climb back down the benches.

I wave to the crowd and pump my hands at them, urging them to cheer. They do. Someone starts chanting my name, and then more in the crowd follow suit. I grin and walk right up to Justin, shoving him back.

“Time to hunt, fucker.”

I continue past him, and Priest is waiting at the archway. His arms are crossed and he’s shaking his head, but he’s grinning. “You’re out of your fucking mind. Dane is going to have your ass for that.”

“Did you see that bullshit out there? I was fucking set up.”