by Amber Lynn
I go through the process of removing the dress and putting back on my comfortable clothing. I have already started thinking about ways to get back at Sebby for this travesty. The fact that Alex is the one spending the night tonight will be a good start.
“So, you ready for the date now?” Alex asks putting away the phone. He seems way too happy. He might need some punishment as well, but that is for a later.
“Sure, where are we going?” I ask walking around the desk to join him.
“I was thinking a boxing match followed by a late dinner at a steakhouse Jonas recommended.”
“You really know how to treat a girl, don’t you?” I ask. If I was choosing what we are doing, I probably couldn’t have picked better. Start off with blood and carnage from the fight and move on to a juicy, still practically mooing, steak; it really is an ideal evening.
“Well, I imagined you didn’t want to go to the theater and I knew unless there was a chance of blood being drawn you would end up bored,” he says laughing and then taking my hand. “Guys, I am giving you the night off,” he says to Jake and Smitty as we walk past them. “I won’t let her leave my side and would like to have a little alone time.”
“Thanks boss,” Jake says. “Not to question your judgment, but are you sure that is a good idea? She doesn’t usually like to be tethered and has been known to wander off.”
“I will behave for the night,” I say. I am all for not having two extra people following me around. It still annoys the Hell out of me every time I see their shadows cast over mine.
I have killed probably more men than any of them, and yet they still think it is necessary to follow me around like a little baby. It’s pathetic I tell you, pathetic.
Alex leads me out to a classic black Chevy Camaro. If I had to guess, it is a ’69. It is in gorgeous condition with some, rarely seen these days, white wall tires.
“We kicking it old school tonight?” I ask as he leads me to the passenger door and opens it for me.
“One of the many things you don’t know about me is that I am somewhat of a car collector. The ’69 Camaro is one of my favorites, so I thought I would share it with you,” he says shutting the door after making sure my knees were out of the way.
“What’s it got under the hood?” I ask knowing he can hear me as he makes his way around the vehicle.
“It’s a stock 302 V8,” he replies getting in and quickly starting the engine. “You know anything about cars?”
“Not really. I just know the ones I like. It is mainly a cosmetic thing to me. Classic muscle tends to be very appealing.” I make a little purring noise in my throat.
“Good to know. I will have to show you around my garage when everything gets delivered,” he tells me as he drives away from my building. “So, before we get to the match and are unable to have a decent conversation, let’s play twenty questions.”
“You do know I hate that game, right?” I ask.
“It won’t be too bad, some of these I could even figure out myself. What is your favorite color?” he questions.
“Black,” I reply. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. “What is yours?”
“Red. Favorite weapon?” he asks.
“Depends on the situation and the person it is being used against. For all around effectiveness I would probably pick my flamethrower. I don’t use it often, but if I am looking to kill something, it tends to be the best option. Burn them to a crisp and then take off the head. For close hand-to-hand, I have a couple daggers I really like. I call them Helen and Clytemnestra. I have another set named after their brothers, but I prefer the girls,” I explain.
“You have named your daggers after people in Greek mythology. Interesting. What is your favorite food?”
“Rare beef. Cut doesn’t matter, too much,” I answer. “What exactly do you do?”
“I imagine you mean as an occupation and not what I do for the resistance. These days I do nothing. I am independently wealthy and am devoting all my time and resources to bringing the Collective down,” he replies. “I go into ‘work’ every day, but it is mostly just strategy meetings and sharing of the most recent intel.”
Great. One of my little ‘mates’ runs an army and the other runs a sex house. Fate picked me a couple winners.
“I thought you were staying in Emerald Town to tie up business issues, before moving to be closer to me,” I say curious.
“Business in the sense that I was working to rearrange the troops and make sure people under our protection were being cared for in my absence,” he explains.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“Fifty-five,” he replies glancing over to gauge my reaction.
Already knowing werewolves can live to be a couple centuries old, it doesn’t really surprise me that he is over twice my age. It’s nothing compared to Sebby’s and my age difference.
“You are just a baby,” I say jokingly as I pinch his cheek.
“I can assure you there is nothing ‘baby’ about me,” he says smirking.
He pulls into a packed parking lot and drives to the front of the arena. Stopping at the entrance, he puts the car in park and gets out. A valet opens my door and holds out his hand to help me exit the Camaro.
“No touching,” Alex says making it to my side, batting the valet’s hand away from mine.
I ignore them both and step out of the car. In the last few weeks, I have learned just how childish boys can be.
“So, do you have a list of which menfolk are allowed to touch because I spar with the guards and Sebastian all the time. There is a lot of touching that goes on then,” I say as he grabs my hand and leads me towards the entrance.
“Yes, there is a list and it is very short. Both Sebastian and I agreed on it when all of this started. We want your physical contact with others kept to a minimum.”
At the door, he hands over a couple tickets and the ticket taker points to a sign that says “No weapons on the premises for the match”.
“That better not apply to me,” I say glaring at the guy. “I didn’t even bring my full arsenal.”
“He must be new,” Alex says trying to soothe me. “Since your other boyfriend owns the arena, I am sure you will be allowed in armed.”
“Hey, I am just doing what I am told. The boss says no weapons allowed tonight and I am here to enforce it,” the man says. I would love to see him try to “enforce” anything with me.
The man is really a vampire, and a relatively new one at that. I have been cultivating a new skill where I can sense the energy levels off other vampires and that helps me gauge how old they are. It is kind of nifty and very helpful.
“Which boss are you reporting to tonight?” I ask.
“Marcus Turner is running the fights,” he replies.
“Good. I am very close with Marcus, would you mind calling him and telling him Nyx is outside and would like to have a chat with him,” I say grinning.
“Wait, you are Slaughter? No need to make the call you can go right in. You should have identified yourself sooner. If I would have known, there never would have been a question of you getting in armed. I am hoping to be put on your protection detail one of these days, but I am still going through training,” he says clearing the way and opening the door for us.
“Keep up the good work, I guess,” I say as Alex drags me inside. He would probably be an easy guard to get away from, so I am semi-serious about my comment. If I was worried about my life, though, I would make sure that guy was not on the short list of people sent to protect me.
Chapter 3
There’s no need to fear
I haven’t ever been inside this arena before. Wait, that isn’t right, I did chase a mark from a concert a couple years ago. For obvious reasons, I didn’t really take the time to check the place out back then.
My initial reaction to the inside of the building is, bright. They could really stand to tone down the overhead lights. I don’t know if I am just light sensitive
, but the rays are giving me a bit of a headache.
There are merchant booths lining the side of the long walkway that seems to be the only way to go. I see food stands promoting the freshest cuts of meat. It looks like you can sign up to have the choicest cuts delivered to your house daily.
That might be something worth looking into. It’s one less trip to the store I would need to make, granted I don’t remember the last time I actually went grocery shopping, since my meals are usually provided, but it is food for thought.
There are also a lot of weaponry stands that draw my eyes. I thought the guy at the door said no weapons, so how does he justify the sight before me? Someone has some explaining to do.
“People can purchase items, but they don't take possession until later,” Alex states seeing the questions in my gaze. “I doubt anyone has anything you don’t already own, so let's get to our seats.”
He attempts to drag me away from a booth and I allow it. We head further down the hall to the open doorways into the arena proper. I try to glance into the openings, but there are too many people milling around for me to get a good look. About halfway down the long tunnel, he turns and pushes through the crowd to get to our seats.
We end up front and center. To be any closer we would have to actually be in the ring. We are looking at an elevated platform that supports a black chain linked cage. There is currently a scantily dressed woman walking around the ring with a digital clock counting down the time until the fight.
The crowd is joyous already, crying for the blood sport to commence. I have been involved in a lot of fights, but I have never been to an actual event like this. I have heard they can get pretty vicious.
“So, what are the terms?” I ask Alex. I figure he knows all the details, since he brought me here.
“No weapons, shifts allowed, tap out,” he replies.
It isn't a death match then. I imagine the opponent that taps out is probably knocking on death’s door. A loss in this division knocks you down to the bottom rung of the ladder and you have to fight your way back up. Most of that journey is paved with death matches. I like fighting a whole lot, but the whole to the death element has always left me queasy.
The countdown clock is ticking off its last second and a male werewolf joins the ring girl. He has a microphone in his hand, so I am guessing he is the ring announcer for this evening.
The lights in the arena dim and spotlights start circling the room.
“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for joining us this evening. Night Owl City Hall is proud to present tonight's match between Joe 'The Hulk' Murray and Trevor 'The Wolfman' Amonte,” he shouts to the crowd.
One of the contestant’s entrance music kicks on and the people get on their feet. I stand too, thinking about how these guys need to find themselves more original nicknames.
It looks like The Wolfman is the one making his way to the ring. Judging by the look of him, you wouldn't think he was in the right place. Alex looks more built. That might not be a good reference point because Alex is pretty large, but this contestant is way too small by my standards. Wolfman is only wearing a pair of orange trunks as he bobs and weaves his way to the ring. I can see some definition in his abs and arms, but he doesn't project a lot of strength.
A different entrance theme immediately starts and a giant of a man enters the arena. Now this is more like it. Hulk is wearing green shorts covering his tree trunk thick thighs. His biceps don't look much smaller and he has to be seven feet tall.
If I stood next to him, I would probably look like a child's doll. Definitely not someone I want to meet up with in a back alley.
As the music dies down the announcer picks up the microphone again. “The rules are simple. We will have three five-minute rounds. No weapons are allowed, but you can shift. We go until tap out or the end of the third round where we will go to a judges’ decision.
“On that note, please allow me to introduce our judges for the night,” the spotlights move to highlight a man in the audience. “First, we have Riley Mullins.” The man stands to wave at the crowd. I wonder how these judges are picked. The guy seems kind of random. “Our second judge is Trent Hughes.” Stand and wave repeated. “And our final judge is relatively new to the city, so I want everyone to give him a warm welcome. Put your hands together for Alex Monroe.”
More standing and waving happens while I sit next to him with my jaw hovering around the floor. Totally not cool. I am so not thrilled about having the spotlight this close to me.
The cheers finally wind down and Alex retakes his seat. He reaches for my hand and gives it a little squeeze.
“Surprise,” he says. That's it, surprise? This kind of information is something I tend to like beforehand.
“I don't think I am happy with you right now.”
“That's nothing new. Watch the fight, so you can help me pick a winner, if they last the full time,” he instructs.
Looking at the two contestants, I don't think it is going to be much of a challenge, but I settle in to watch. It's nice that these front row seat chairs are well padded. The seats we passed coming in were mostly bleachers. I would probably be more irritated if I was sitting on the cold medal.
“Round 1,” the little ring girl screams, interrupting my thoughts.
The opponents start circling each other trying to take measure. Hulk doesn't move around too well, while Wolfman is hopping and bouncing around as if he is part rabbit. I still think size is going to rule the match.
They finally get close enough to touch and the little guy tries throwing some punches. It looks like they are running into a concrete wall. Hulk just stands there grinning, showing everyone what little effect they are having on him.
Eventually, he gets bored and picks Wolfman up. He then throws him across the ring. Wolfman hits the cage hard and falls to the ground, but he isn't down long. He springs back up and goes after the giant again.
He picks up his pace and starts darting around Hulk giving body shots when he can, while trying to stay out of the bigger man's grasp. He keeps it up for the rest of the round, not letting another hit touch him.
I have to give it to him, his strategy is interesting, but he doesn't seem to be doing much damage. I think the judging is scored on the most violence or blood drawn for this type of thing and skating around giving jabs here and there is not going to go over well with the judges.
“What do you think, so far?” Alex asks during the wait for the second round.
“It isn't as violent as I was expecting. It actually seems pretty mild.”
“I think they are still trying to size each other up. The Wolfman is a relatively new fighter, so The Hulk probably doesn't have a full dossier on his moves.”
“I would call his move the bunny hop. He doesn't seem to hold still for a second.”
“Would you, if you were in the ring with the giant?” he asks.
“Not if I wanted to make it out alive.” The bell for round two sounds and I turn my attention back to the ring.
Things start out the same as the last round ended. Hulk is trying to move around more, working to catch the smaller man. Frustrated with failing his task, he finally gives up and changes to his wolf form.
He is a dark brown wolf with some scattered silver streaks. Humanoid size and wolf size do not always manifest evenly. Alex has the largest wolf that I have seen. I expected Hulk may be bigger because of his massive size, but he is quite a bit smaller. He isn't a runt or anything, just smaller.
He starts lunging at Wolfman, who is still in human form for the moment. Wolfman does some fancy flips to keep Hulk at bay. This only works to aggravate him more. After one of Wolfman's flips, Hulk takes to the air and leaps to the corner the humanoid is standing in.
With his opponent in the air, Wolfman sees his opening and shifts into his silver wolf form while leaping to meet Hulk in the middle. As wolves, they are almost even on their size, so the previous advantage Hulk once held is gone.
They meet with
The Wolfman's jaw clamping around Hulk's jugular. He locks his jaw in place and The Hulk is stuck wiggling on the ground trying to get free. It isn't a hold you really want to rip away from an opponent because chances are your throat will go, too.
A torn out throat wouldn’t kill any of us, but it would sideline him for a least a week while it knitted itself back together. I have seen the injury happen before during my time with the Collective, so I am pretty familiar with it.
After some last tries to break free, The Hulk finally gives up and taps his paw on the mat. Wolfman releases and stands back allowing doctors to come in and work on Hulk. The injury shouldn't be too serious and both men will live to see another day.
The biggest lesson of the day for me is to not bet against the underdog. Small and mighty can win over big and slow. Being small and mighty myself, I never should have doubted it.
Chapter 4
My spidey senses are tingling
“That was awesome. Did you see how seamlessly Wolfman shifted into his wolf and went right for the jugular?” I ask Alex excitedly as we leave the arena. Of course, he saw it. He was sitting right next to me.
“I still can’t believe this was your first fight. As much as you like violence, I am surprised you haven’t joined the women’s division,” he replies grabbing my hand while we wait for the car to be brought around.
“Good idea. I wonder who I need to contact to get in on the action,” I say looking around the crowd.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. You do know you won’t be allowed to fight. You have enough threats against you. No need to add more. Those women on the circuit are nothing nice. They have been known to leave a lot of permanent scars.”
I wave my hand in his general direction. “That isn’t a problem for me. I have trained with men ten times bigger than me my whole life. Even the toughest female, would be a joke for me to fight. Maybe I should look into joining the men’s league.”
“There is no way that is going to happen. I will restrain you every way I can,” he insists.
