by Riley Storm
She gaped. “But you have to! You said you would.”
“For the night. And we did.”
“But I need to stay here!” She couldn’t believe what he was saying. Would they really just toss her out like that?
“Why?” Klaue growled, his own emotions flaring to match hers.
“If you kick me out, they’ll kill me. You saw that. You saw what they would do to get me!” Jessica knew what Klaue was trying to do. He needed information, needed to know more about her, about what she knew. But Jessica couldn’t give it to him. She just couldn’t. Zoe was her sister. They were of the same blood. She couldn’t just betray that, put her sister in harm’s way.
Klaue and his bears could defend themselves. He’d demonstrated that last night when he’d fought off all the wolves. Zoe was helpless, surrounded by a den of murderous werewolves. He had to see that. He had to understand!
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe they won’t though. What does that have to do with me?”
Jessica snapped, losing control of her temper. “Fine then. Go fight your fight. I’ll figure something out.” She shook her head angrily. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll get some decency knocked into you.”
“Perhaps,” Klaue agreed. “Maybe you should fight too,” he suggested.
She frowned, trying to understand what he was implying. Was he saying she needed some manners as well? As if! The nerve of him to say such a thing. She sniffed frostily, not bothering to respond verbally, letting her body language do all the talking for her.
Klaue sighed. “Whatever. Come on then, let’s go.” He gestured to the door when she didn’t move.
“What? Where are we going now?”
His eyebrows came together. “The…fight?” he said, like she should know that.
“What? Can’t I stay here?”
“No. This is my room, and you might be a spy. I don’t want you spying on me, or doing anything indecent in my quarters while I’m not here.”
Jessica gaped at him, stunned by the treatment. Maybe everything she’d heard about the shifters of House Ursa was true after all. Huge, hunky, and hella big assholes!
“Fine,” she snapped, knowing that arguing was worthless. “Lead the way. I want a good seat. I’d love to come watch you get your ass handed to you.”
Lifting her chin into the air, she marched out of the room, ignoring the surprised look on his face.
7
Despite the calm he’d tried to exude back in his quarters, Klaue was nervous. Not quite terrified—he was too confident in his own skills for that—but he was worried. This was a big deal for him, and he didn’t want to screw it up.
Two days earlier, the Queen had nominated him as her pick to be Champion of High House Ursa. It was a massive honor, and one Klaue had been completely unprepared for. Never in his wildest imagination had he expected that he would ever have the chance to ascend to be one of the Title Holders of his House.
The Champion was one of the most prestigious lords of a House. One of the most public and powerful seats. It would thrust Klaue into the spotlight if he were to succeed, something he wasn’t sure he wanted, but there wasn’t any denying his Queen’s wishes.
And secretly, Klaue had long considered himself to be the best fighter in the House. Now, however, he was going to get the chance to prove it, to himself, and to everyone else. He grinned, bouncing back and forth from one leg to the other, shaking his body out, staying loose, not allowing anything to tighten up.
Today was the first of three fights he would have to win to be named Champion of the House. This was a trial to submission or knockout, using nothing more than his body as a weapon. If he won today, the next fight would be with swords, and it would go until first blood. Assuming Klaue didn’t fuck it up and he got to the final challenge, he would fight his opponents in their animal forms.
Three contests, three different types of combat, all to see who was the best all-around fighter in House Ursa. If Klaue won them all, he would be anointed Champion, and his House would be one step closer to healing from the wounds it had suffered at the hands of its traitors several weeks earlier, at least on paper.
It would take much longer for trust to be regained after something like that. When dozens of members of the House had turned all at once in an attempt to gain control by the simple expedient of killing everyone in power, more than just bones had been fractured. Lives had been lost, and trust had been shattered.
They hadn’t been able to pin things back to House Canis—yet—but Klaue had been working closely with his boss to try and identify the last of the traitors still hiding among them. It irked him to know that Kirell didn’t trust him fully still, but the Captain of House Ursa wasn’t afforded that luxury. Not right now, with the way things stood.
What he didn’t know was what they would do once they had evidence that the Canim were the ones behind it all, that they had bribed and enticed members of his House with promises they’d be allowed to rule, among other things. The leader of the attempted coup was still out there, he was convinced of that. Whoever it was, they had escaped justice, and even if he was appointed Champion, Klaue wouldn’t stop hunting until he found them and ripped out their throat.
The doors in front of him opened, distracting him from the bloodlust as music sounded and he heard the chants of the other members of his House, both supporters and detractors. Idly, Klaue wondered if he had more of the latter than the former, but it didn’t matter. One thing all shifters respected was skill in a fight, and he would win them over through brute force if necessary.
He strode forward into the Throne Room, where all ceremonial combat occurred. The large room was located at the heart of Ursidae Manor. It was quite large. Across the back wall sat the stone chairs of the Title Holders along with those of the rulers. The seat reserved for the King was draped in black, and would remain that way until the Queen relinquished her rule and a new mated pair stepped up to rule the House.
Klaue had no time to mourn the monarch lost in the uprising, however, because the scene in front of him was already set. Other members of House Ursa lined the floor on the other three sides, as well as the level above, where the walls were opened to viewing down into the center of the Throne Room.
Someone spoke briefly but he didn’t listen. He knew the rules, and he knew what was at stake as well. Nothing more needed to be said. His opponent was a relative unknown to him, having arrived several days ago from their South American operations. Klaue didn’t even know the man’s name, nor did he care. Today wasn’t about pleasantries.
It was about winning.
He wanted to win for himself, for his Queen, for his House.
And for Jessica.
He was so distracted by the intrusive thought, that Klaue missed Kaelyn starting the fight. The roar of the crowd was the only clue he had that his opponent was charging at him. He slammed into Klaue heavily, sending the slightly bigger shifter sprawling to the ground, bouncing over the stone floor.
“Krug! Krug! Krug!” The chants from several sections of the crowd were nearly deafening.
At least I know your name now, he thought, rising to his feet without saying a word, simply dusting himself off as Krug prepared to come at him again.
His foe might have gotten the first hit in, but Klaue wasn’t going to let that happen again, that was for sure. The pair closed, and then circled, taking stock of one another, gauging their opponent. Krug was wary, almost apprehensive. He must have known the first shot was luck, that something had stolen Klaue’s attention away.
Jessica. She had distracted him, the idea that he wanted to impress her, to see her bright features blossom into happiness instead of the guarded nervousness that she lived within now. He could tell her face was used to being happy, the lines on her face—such as they were—were indicative of laughter and joy, not permanent sadness and fear.
Klaue blinked as Krug came flying with a swift left jab. He dropped to the side, planting his own left hand on the gro
und before kicking out with not one, but both feet. Krug took the blow in the stomach without any preparation and flew back across the room, bouncing over on his head and landing flat on his stomach.
The room went quiet, then a second later the other half of the makeshift arena erupted in cheers. Buoyed by the fact he had supporters out there, Klaue got to his feet and advanced on Krug, who put his palms on the ground and flexed hard, popping himself up into an easy pose straight from the ground.
This time, Klaue didn’t let himself get distracted. He went straight at the other man, the pair exchanging blows so fast they began to blur together. Klaue wasn’t thinking one or two moves ahead, but three or four, not only to try and win, but also to counter Krug, who was doing the same.
It wasn’t often that he went up against someone his equal in any of the disciplines, but Klaue had to give the man credit. Krug was good. Very good. But he was also younger, and just a little less disciplined. Some of his strikes were erratic, but when he did land them, Klaue felt it.
They exchanged blows, both men getting in some punishing hits, leaving bruises and swelling everywhere. The bout was settled nearly five minutes before it officially ended when Klaue slipped under a fist and connected hard with Krug’s orbital bone. Almost immediately, the other fighter’s right eye swelled up while the cut over his eyebrow began to drip blood.
Such was Krug’s skill, that it took Klaue that long to exploit the wound, but when he did, it was over and the crowd knew it. Whether supporter or hater, they all erupted into noise as the fight entered its final phases. Klaue drove in hard, hammering blows into Krug’s blind spot.
He faked one, slipped down and away from a blocking knee and took Krug to the ground. Hard. They wrestled briefly, but Klaue’s size paid off, and he realized quickly that he was a superior wrestler. Should have done this earlier. In less than a minute, he had Krug in a chokehold the other man wasn’t breaking out of, no matter how hard he tried.
It was over, and they both knew it. Krug tried to fight it, but eventually, he went limp and passed out. Screams of anger and victory rained down on him, but he only had ears for one, but he didn’t hear it.
She’s probably upset that you didn’t get your ass kicked after all.
Klaue couldn’t hold back, feeling overjoyed from his victory and also positive that he was right. As the smile crossed his face, the crowd went into a frenzy, and he was fairly positive he spotted several other fights break out before quickly being settled.
He gave the crowd a salute as thanks, playing up his position as second of the House Guard, and then went over to his Queen, kneeling in front of her. His body protested, the wounds already starting to make their presence known as he stiffened, starting to heal already. None of them was bad, but he only had two days to recover between bouts. Anything that slowed him down would open him up to receiving even worse wounds inflicted by the blades.
“You are the victor today, Klaue. Congratulations. Now rest. In two days’ time, we shall have the Trial of Blades!” she said, forced to speak loudly so everyone would hear.
The audience lost its shit at that pronouncement. Klaue snorted. They’d all known what was next, but it didn’t matter. Every shifter loved a good fight.
“Thank you, my Queen,” he said formally, before turning and going to see to Krug, who was just now getting up into a sitting position.
“You fought well,” he said, helping the other man to his feet, making sure he gave him something sturdy to lean upon for support.
“You fought better.”
Klaue chuckled. “Age and treachery will beat youth and energy most times.”
“Next time then, old man,” Krug said with a disarming smile, feeling steady enough to stand on his own.
“If you’re lucky.” Klaue was scanning the crowd, trying to pick out one face in particular. He looked for the rosy cheeks and eyes that burned with life, but there were too many bloodthirsty shifters in the way.
As Krug said his final congratulations and wandered off to be comforted by his supporters, the mass of bodies started to file out of the Throne Room. Finally, with the thinning of flesh, he was able to find Jessica and her carer. He strode over to where they stood, nodding his thanks to Krave, one of his fellow soldiers.
The other shifter took the hint and departed swiftly, not even waiting for Klaue to come to a halt. Jessica, meanwhile, was staring at him with what he supposed was her attempt at indifference. It would have been far more believable if she wasn’t also fighting to keep her eyes on his face.
I wonder if this is what that feels like, he wondered, idly flexing first his chest then his stomach.
When he moved onto his arms though, she realized she was busted and firmly locked gazes with him.
“Enjoy the show?” he asked.
Jessica snorted at the double-entendre. “It wasn’t bad,” she admitted. “But it would have been better if it was a little longer.”
Klaue didn’t take insult at her own double-meaning either. Instead, he stepped closer to her, crowding her space. “Maybe you were just sitting too far away.”
She flinched but he kept moving nearer, until he was mere inches away from her. “Perhaps you just need an up-close experience.”
Nostrils flared as his pheromones reached out over the distance. Klaue knew he had to be fairly bursting with them after the fight. If he could feel the testosterone flowing through him like a torrent, it had to be obvious to her. Subconsciously, he worked to keep the blood from swelling him up in public.
Jessica was searching wildly for a response, he could tell. What had started out as nothing more than a joke was taking on a life of its own as neither of them denied the physical attraction to one another. Klaue hadn’t expected his, and now he wasn’t ready for it. What did he say now? How did he go about it? She was attractive, he’d known that almost from the moment he saw her crawl out of the car. But this…this was different. It was—
“Klaue.”
He straightened and spun on instinct at the voice, desperately trying to control his reactions before he turned around.
8
Jessica watched the woman approach, and also at the way Klaue spun and came to a rigid position of attention.
She was too busy trying to keep her misbehaving body under control to take in much more detail than that, however. Jessica wasn’t entirely sure what was coming over her. The instant he’d broken her personal circle, she’d begun to feel warm. Mushy. It was incomprehensible how he could push past her barriers so easily. A trio of emotion warred within her.
First and foremost was undeniable arousal. Klaue was like a prime physical specimen grown in a science lab and tailored to her desires. Smooth, slightly-bronzed skin pulled taut over muscles that gleamed with the faintest sheen of sweat thanks to his fight. The way he’d walked over to her in nothing but his trunks was straight out of a goddamned movie. She couldn’t not feel physical attraction to him. To the idea of being under him. On top of him. Next to him. Shit, it didn’t matter, the man was fucking hot. A dick, yes, but sexy as hell.
The second thing she was feeling was shock. Absolute and utter shock at her reaction to him. This was one of the Ursa. A bear shifter. He was the enemy, and Jessica was too damned strong willed to let herself fall victim to his undeniable physical charm. Or so she’d thought, until moments ago when he’d stepped close and the heat had simply boiled off him and over her, turning her into putty that he could have done whatever he wanted with, if he’d simply reached out and touched her. It was scary to think of how easily he’d waltzed through her defenses.
Third, and perhaps most powerful, however, was the feeling of irritation. Everything about Klaue annoyed her. From the boring cut of his hair down to the way he thought it was acceptable to wear nothing more than skintight trunks in the middle of a crowd. His casual attitude toward his own physical attraction bothered her as well. He seemed to relish in pointing out that she thought he was good-looking. On top of all that, he was ju
st a dick who gave out all sorts of sarcasm.
That you give right back.
Shut up.
“My Queen,” Klaue said formally as the woman approached.
The words snapped Jessica out of her self-imposed reverie and she stared, suddenly realizing the woman was flanked on either side by a pair of bodyguards. Of course. She was the goddamn Queen of High House Ursa. Someone as traitorous and evil as that would need to be protected from her enemies.
“Stuff it,” Kaelyn said after glancing around to ensure they were suitably alone. “I’ve been forced to do all this formal shit all morning. Please, just call me Kaelyn.”
Klaue grinned. “Of course, Kaelyn. Your wish is my command.”
Jessica’s jaw dropped at the casual banter between the two of them. Her head swiveled back and forth at the exchange, trying to understand why this Kaelyn woman wasn’t ripping Klaue’s head from his shoulders for such insolence.
“Are you okay?”
She blinked and nodded. The violent motion of her head served to inform Jessica that her jaw was also hanging open, and she closed it with a snap, staying silent, keeping her eyes lowered, not willing to look the Queen in the face.
“You can look up,” the Queen said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you for looking at my face.”
Jessica couldn’t convince her face to respond. This was so different, not only compared to the rules of House Canis, but also to everything she’d been taught about Ursa. They were supposed to be monsters. Brutes, really, barely above primitive status according to the way Canis looked upon them. The fight she’d just witnessed had seemed to confirm that theory.
So why was the Queen acting this way toward her? There had to be a reason for it, of course. It was all an act. She was pretending to be polite, but why?
She wants the secret you hold, of course. It had to be that. Jessica didn’t possess any other knowledge worth befriending her for.
