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There were at least four mages in the front row alone, and I spotted a few more scattered in the rows behind them.
It was easy enough to spot the magic users, even though they all looked basically the same as everyone else. For one thing, everyone whose ancestors had been blessed with magic by the gods had a slight aura about them—almost a very faint, hazy glow.
For another thing, they almost all wore expressions of smug superiority, as if having magic really made them better than the rest of us.
Well, it made them more powerful anyway. Which did make them better in a lot of people’s eyes.
Dragging my attention back to Vin, I waggled my eyebrows at him. “I’m not scared of them. They may be able to waggle their fingers and summon pretty lights, but I bet they all suck at hand-to-hand.”
Never mind that some of those “pretty lights” have the power to kill a person.
I gave Vin a little salute, then made my way out to the center of the ring, brushing a few strands of black hair out of my face as the announcer hyped up the crowd.
“Annnnd in this corner, Aria Baaaaanks!”
When my name echoed out into the arena, cheers and screams filled the hollow cement space. I put my hand up in the air and made a fist, keeping my attention on my opponent.
His name was Travis Rotham, although if his parents had had any foresight at all, they would’ve named him Crusher or Bruiser or something.
The announcer stood between us, making us shake hands before giving the signal. As his hand came down, the bell tolled—and I bounced backward quickly, knowing full well the big motherfucker was going to go for the first punch. Just like I’d thought, his arm swung wide but missed me. Using the opening he’d given me, I slid in underneath his arm, punched him in the stomach, and then swung around and gave him one good jab in the kidney.
That one’s for you, Vin.
As Rotham doubled over, I bounced around the ring, waving at the crowd and getting them pumped up. Hundreds of crisp green bills were changing hands all throughout the stands. As I looped back around toward my opponent, he grabbed my arm and flung me into the side of the ring. I hit the fencing hard, cutting my cheek on the metal. Grunting softly, I ran my fingers across the blood and narrowed my eyes.
Planting my feet and pivoting, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s not nice to hit a girl?”
He grinned, showing his gums and a line of uneven teeth. “I only hit girls dumb enough to climb into a ring with me. You don’t wanna get hit, don’t ask to play with the big boys.”
I grimaced and lunged toward him, faking right before hitting him under the chin with an uppercut. Before he could recover, I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down, kneeing him hard in the groin. His eyes bugged out of his head, and he made a low, drawn out gurgling noise. Then he dropped to his knees like a felled tree, shaking the entire ring.
I put my arms up, encouraging the cheers of the crowd—and the dickbag swung low, knocking me off my feet. I hit the ground hard, mentally cursing myself for not keeping my guard up.
Fuck! That’s what I get for getting cocky.
Before I could bounce back, Rotham climbed on top of me, pushing his knee into my side. I reached up and grabbed him by the throat, trying to push him off of me.
My head fell to the side as Rotham and I grappled, and I caught flashes of the audience.
When he aimed a punch at my face, I whipped my head to the other side, the audience blurring in my vision before coming back into focus. As it did, my gaze fell on a broad-shouldered guy standing in the second row with his arms crossed.
Oh, shit.
He was fucking stunning. His red-brown hair was slightly shaggy, and he had strong, blunt features. He looked like the kind of guy who might club you over the head and bring you back to his cave to fuck you till you couldn’t walk—all alpha-male hotness and rugged good looks.
Rotham was still on top of me, still trying to beat the shit out of me, but it was hard to let even that imminent danger drag my focus away from the guy in the crowd.
As if he could sense my thoughts, the roguish man grinned at me. He stared at me with heat in his eyes, and it was like a shot of instant adrenaline.
I grinned savagely and turned my attention back to Rotham, hooking his leg and bucking my hips to throw him off balance. I scrambled to my feet, and before he could recover, I threw out a hard elbow to his face. It caught him on the temple, and the next one got him on the chin. The third hit his nose, and there was a satisfying crack before blood sprayed.
Okay, enough playing around.
My snarl tilted upward into a taunting grin as I pulled back my clenched fist. “Sorry about your balls. And your face.”
With that, I followed through, punching him as hard as I could.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and he was out like a light. The announcer came over, checked his pulse, slapped him on the cheeks a couple times, and stood up, grabbing me by the wrist and raising my hand in the air. The crowd was going wild, but all I could think about was finally getting another paycheck.
