by JoAnna Grace
Hayden laughed happily as he escorted her down the rows filled with Thracians. Whatever was going to happen in this place, she had a front row view. Down below in the sunken pit, there was a scene that gave her a sick feeling. Readying themselves for a fight were Ryse—and Brenden.
“HAYDEN, TELL ME what’s going on right now!”
Hayden’s casual smile turned into a look of concern. “Avery, darling, you didn’t think that Ryse was going to let Brenden be bound to you without putting him through hell first, did you?” She tried to answer, but couldn’t speak. Hayden put his hand on the base of her neck. It was a very possessive gesture. Odd. “Brenden has to earn the right to be your personal guardian. No one can beat my brother, but that doesn’t mean they do not have to try. If he is found fit, then Ryse will accept his request.”
Ryse saw them sitting down and walked over. His shirtless body made Avery flush. Only the expression on his face could her snap out of the dirty thoughts starring this muscled god before her. Ryse was in full Thracian mode. The only protective gear he wore were two metal wristbands that stretched from his wrist to his elbows.
In contrast, Brenden was wearing a leather breastplate that wrapped around his back and protective leather padding on his legs. It still made Avery worry.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Ryse said, bracing his arms on the half wall that separated the pit from the spectators. Avery instinctively leaned closer to him. “There is no one in this place more worried than you are and there is no one who needs to hide it more.”
“Are you gonna hurt him?” she whispered, fearful and aware of the many sets of ears nearby.
“He has to prove himself and he has to be punished for going to you before he came to me.”
“Ryse, please—”
“Avery!” he growled. It was a command for silence, one not to be disobeyed. “Do not question me on this. Sit here, watch, and remember that you have expectations to meet as my mat- consort.” She almost didn’t catch the slight twitch of his lips before he kissed her and walked away.
When she leaned back into the stadium-style seat, her back hit Hayden’s arm. He gripped her shoulder and patted it comfortingly. They waited a few more moments and let the final men take their seats. Philippe, Cutter, Hammon, and Yankee—the Elites—came to sit directly behind her.
“You cook again today, Princess?” Cutter asked with a smile. “I dream of fried potatoes last night.”
Today was full of surprises; Cutter actually spoke! “I suppose I could whip something up.”
Cutter smiled and Philippe removed his cigarette to speak. “I eat anything you fix, Principessa.” Even when he grinned, his eyes looked sad. It made her wonder what was behind them.
“Thanks, darlin’.” Avery smiled. “Hammon, good to see you.”
The charcoal-colored man nodded. “As always, milady, the pleasure is mine.”
Avery’s eyes fell on the last one to take a seat. Yankee appeared characteristically annoyed. She forced herself to address him. He was one of Ryse’s trusted Elites, after all. “Hello, Yankee.”
He turned his head, removed his sunglasses, then leaned over the back of her seat to talk to her. He pointed his sunglasses at Bren. “You really going to take little brother if Master Ryse doesn’t kill him?” He sounded like the idea was completely preposterous.
Refusing to be needled, Avery joked, “What’s the matter, Yankee, jealous?”
He looked at her with eyes that promised merciless death to those who cross him. “Not hardly. I think the two of you together might as well paint a big target across your chests.”
“Excuse me?”
Yankee leaned down so close she knew his next sentence was for her only. “You are the first ever mate of a Thracian Master. Brenden, though he aggravates the piss out of me, is as famous. He’s already had too many close calls in his young life, with people out to bag him for the prize that he is. Ryse might as well package the two of you up with a bow and set you on the curb.” Yankee then sat back in his seat and slumped down.
Before Avery could reply or react, silence fell on the arena. General Falcon stepped out into the center. Ryse and Brenden came to stand on either side of him, two contenders ready to face off. Only one of them showed signs of worry.
Nikki reached over and slipped her hand into Avery’s. Her delicate hand was shaking.
“Thracians!” Falcon’s voice boomed like thunder around the arena. The one word brought all the men to attention. “Bow to your Master.” Avery felt weird being one of the only three people in the arena not standing to bow. She, Nikki, and Hayden were not soldiers so Hayden told them to stay seated.
Falcon continued, “Thracians! Bow to your Prince.” Hayden kicked back in his chair as hundreds of men bowed to him. Ryse gave him a cocky salute that he returned with a single finger. The exchange between brothers made Avery roll her eyes. Hayden laughed and clapped when Ryse flipped him off as well. “Thracians! Bow to your Princess and Master’s Consort.”
Oh, shit. Wanting desperately to sink into her seat, but knowing she couldn’t show any signs of weakness, Avery kept her eyes on Ryse. The pride as he met her gaze was overwhelming. When he bent at his waist to honor her, she found herself smiling at her sexy warrior.
It was a smile that made Ryse’s heart jump out of his chest. Without a doubt, he would take on the world for that woman.
Now that introductions were over, Ryse poised for—
“Thracians!” Falcon shot Ryse a wary glance. “Welcome honored guest, Princess Salina of Europe.”
Shit.
Ryse looked up to see Salina and her entourage making their way down the stairs. Salina took a seat one row away from Avery and Hayden. The woman had evil written in her eyes. Ryse looked at Brenden. He didn’t have to tell Brenden that this changed things. Brenden’s gifts were rumored all over the world. The mysterious Elite had only revealed them completely to Ryse.
“Warriors,” Falcon called their attention. “Shake hands.”
Ryse and Brenden gripped forearms.
“You know I will not go easy on you,” Ryse warned.
“And you know that I wish to keep my secrets.”
“Then for both our sakes, I hope that you will be creative. I would hate for our audience to get bored.”
Brenden smirked. “I gotta deep bag of tricks, old man.”
Everyone in the arena knew that there was no possible way to beat Ryse. A warrior might be able to get in some good shots and Ryse relished the challenge that Bren presented. Some of that challenge would be trying not to kill this younger man. If Ryse put all his strength, all his powers into a fight, he could kill Brenden and every warrior in this arena in an instant with the flick of his wrist.
Brenden had to prove that he could be a challenge to someone as strong as Ryse. Only then would he be deemed fit to protect the one thing in this world Ryse cherished most. This meant that Ryse would have to let him get in some offensive strikes.
“Rules have been set prior to the match. Two tests will be given. Round one is a natural fight. Neither opponent can use powers or weapons, only raw abilities. The second will include weapons, powers, or both. No one in the audience may interfere with these tests. Punishment for interference with the match will be implemented at the Master’s discretion.” Falcon held up his fist as Ryse and Brenden got into position.
“Begin!”
Ryse looked at Brenden. He was an Elite. He was special. But he had touched Avery. His arms had been on Ryse’s woman, romantic or not, and now was his chance to take out the aggression he felt.
That thought was all it took before Ryse launched his body towards the boy.
AVERY DIDN’T BREATHE as she watched Brenden’s body fly across the dirt floor of the arena. Ryse had tackled him with the skill of a professional football player. Brenden, half the size of Ryse, hit the ground and sent his attacker up over his head with his legs. Ryse did a quick flip and landed on his feet. Their next moves were made at li
ghtning speed.
In typical crowd mentality, the Thracian spectators were cheering and making sound effects after every contact was made. As hard as it was to take her eyes off Ryse and Brenden, she couldn’t help but look to see what everyone else was doing.
Nikki was sitting on the edge of her seat eyes focused, lips drawn. Hayden was entertained at the spectacle. He gently rubbed Avery’s shoulders, and she wondered if he realized it. There was something twitchy about his movements. He was nervous and trying to hide it. Dante and Yankee, like most of the other men, were getting into the fight. Yankee enjoyed it a little too much.
Then she looked over at Salina. Bad idea.
The snake-witch was practically drooling. The lady sitting beside her leaned over, giggling with her like schoolgirls. Salina had one manicured finger pulling on the collar of her shirt, as of ready to rip it off.
“Don’t look over there.” Nikki nudged her. “That dreadful woman is practically undressing herself.”
“She happens to be lusting over my—whatever he is.” Avery turned back to watch Ryse. The first thing she noticed was the blood coming from his lip. But it was nothing compared to Brenden’s swelling eye and busted nose. The blond boy was picking himself up off the ground after a kick to his chest. Compared to Ryse’s large mass, Brenden appeared nothing more than a teenager. It seemed an extremely unfair match.
“I don’t know if I can watch this.” Avery made sure that her face gave away nothing. The comment was made for Hayden and Nikki only.
It was Hayden who leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Brenden isn’t the only one with something to prove. If the men ever begin to doubt Ryse’s strength, it opens him for attack. The same goes for you and me. So be strong.”
His words made Avery turn. A moment’s eye contact made her realize that Hayden was in the same boat. If he showed any fear or hesitation at what was going on before them, he would be viewed as the weaker brother. If he was viewed as weaker, he could be used as leverage against Ryse. Avery could be used for the same thing. So much for Hayden being the lighthearted little brother. This man had as many pressures as his sibling.
Hayden kicked back in his chair and propped his feet up on the railing in front of him. He could have been sitting in a recliner watching a WWE match on the television.
She sucked up her girly fears and turned to the match. The final move had been made. Ryse had flipped Brenden over onto his back and had him by the throat. Ryse was bleeding from both his lip and nose, and his chest was already bruising from Brenden’s punches. Ryse released him with the roar of the crowd and stood over Brenden’s submitted body. Then he held out his hand to offer his help.
“Stand. Nod in acceptance. Clap.” Hayden pushed her shoulder so she would obey.
Avery complied. She stood and bowed her head slightly to accept the end of the match and applaud the two warriors.
“Test one completed. Master Ryse, pass or fail?” General Falcon asked as moderator for the match.
Avery’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched Ryse take a moment to think. He nodded in acceptance. “Pass.” Avery cheered in earnest.
Brenden walked up to Ryse and said something. Ryse nodded and walked away. Falcon announced a five-minute break before the final match.
Ryse motioned for Hammon and Cutter to speak with him while he wiped the blood from his lips. Brenden had gotten in some very impressive shots. It was a nice challenge to meet someone so strong.
“We have a problem,” he said to his two advisors. “Even in the middle of a fight, Brenden caught a scent.”
“The boy is truly skilled.” Hammon began scanning crowd. “What was it?”
“Someone here carries a scent he recognized from Avery’s house.”
“I do not see anyone that I wouldn’t recognize.” Cutter shook his head. “I’ve been watching students and staff. No one unfamiliar.”
Ryse glanced up in the stands where Salina sat. Hammon caught the quick eye movement. “You think it is someone with her.”
“Yes. You two to stay close to Avery and do not let her out of your sight.”
He turned to look at his opponent standing across the arena, leaning casually against the wall. Brenden had hearing like none other. The entire exchange with Hammon and Cutter had not escaped him. He tilted his head to the side, towards Salina’s entourage.
Ryse looked to his Elites. Yankee had seen the signal, too. He was heading up the stairs to the exit. Noting the subtle hints, Philippe followed.
Taking a chance, Ryse looked at Salina. The troll preened in her chair from his attention. There was no fooling him. As a Thracian Master, he had more of an insight to people’s auras than the rest of his race. There was malevolence about her aura that he couldn’t miss. He wondered how anyone else could.
“Warriors,” Falcon called the arena to attention again. “For the next test, all Olympian and Thracian gifts will be permitted, including weapons. Since this is not a match to the death, Master Ryse will decide when the match is over.”
He turned to the two men who’d joined him in the center of the circle. “Begin.”
“Don’t hold back,” Ryse whispered to Brenden. “Show them what you are really made of.”
“I can kill you,” he warned.
“No, you can’t. But if provocation is what you need to unleash your beasts, then I will be happy to give it to you.”
Ryse knew that Brenden had more control over himself than all the Thracians in this place put together. To get him to submit to the animal inside would take even more control than leashing it.
When he found Brenden, nearly fifty years ago, he had found a monster. Hammon woke in the middle of the night sensing an Olympian power greater than anything the tracker had ever felt. Ryse and his Elites made their way to a town in Texas west of Dallas. What they had found was carnage.
Brenden was in animal form—a mixture of bear, cat, wolf and eagle—and scared out of his mind. It had been the first time he had ever changed. Beside him lay the body of young woman. Ryse immediately feared the worst. But the beast was protecting the body with a ferocity that did not make Ryse believe she was his prey. It had taken hours to convince the animal to calm down and let Hammon inspect the girl.
Only days later did they find out what really happened that night. Megan, Brenden’s younger sister who he adored, had been on a date. Bren had received a frantic call made from a bathroom stall at a bar. Being only nineteen at the time, she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. Meg pleaded for her brother to come get her. When Brenden had arrived at the bar, it was too late; the boyfriend had abducted her.
The frantic state he went into caused the first of his physical changes. Brenden had remembered being able to scent his sister’s perfume among the smells of car exhaust. It was not something a human nose could have caught. He pursued the car on foot for nearly six miles, never getting tired. His ears picked up the sounds of struggle and the sounds of a woman’s muffled cry for help.
Following the signs his body was giving him, Brenden ran from the road through the woods. What he found had caused him to growl, the wild animals restless beneath the surface.
His sister lay on the ground, naked and bloodied, a knife pressed to her throat. The anger boiled inside Brenden, forcing his body to change forms into the most ferocious of beasts. Brenden had killed the bastard, but not before he could lodge the knife into his sister’s neck. The man’s body would never be found.
Guilt over his sister’s death was the one thing that always brought out his worst. As low and cheap as it was to use such a tragedy to provoke Brenden, it would work. Ryse needed the boy to show what a truly horrific beast he could be. He only prayed that Brenden would forgive his betrayal when the fight was over.
BRENDEN KNEW THAT Ryse would push every button he could to make him fight. He didn’t have to try to get upset. Ryse would piss him off. When he did change, he hoped Avery didn’t get too freaked out. Glancing up at the gorgeous redhe
ad beside the Princess, he prayed Nikki wouldn’t get too freaked out, either. Whatever buds of affection they had blooming would die if she was terrified of him.
At this moment, he needed to focus on the killer in front of him. Ryse was pulling his power from his soul. His eyes were already beginning to glow.
Gods help him, this was about to get ugly.
It was time. Ryse felt the powers given to him from Ares begin to stir within his body. The microscopic particles of his physical being reacted to the mental command. With a light shining from the palm of his right hand, he thought about his sword: the weight, the coolness of the metal, the feel of the blade striking. It appeared. With the blade in hand, he stalked to his prey.
Brenden had his own weapons drawn—two six-inch blades. Since speed was one of his Olympian gifts, the knives were as deadly in his hands as the large sword. The boy held the knives and prepared to strike.
It was Ryse who began the dance. Brenden was still worried about letting go, so the Master flung his sword out with force that could have split a tree. Brenden dodged, getting only the very edge of the blade against his skin. Nothing more than a paper cut. Three more strikes were made, all offensive moves from Ryse.
“Fight me, boy!” Ryse commanded.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Master.” Brenden circled him from a distance.
“If you want this position, you will fight, damn it!” Ryse twirled his sword quicker than a lightning bolt and felt the blade cut through the flesh of Brenden’s leg.
The boy cried out and Ryse knew he was on the right track. “Who the hell are you to think you have the right?” Ryse danced around the boy until his blade struck him in the arm. “You are too weak to go against me. You are too weak to be Avery’s guardian.”
