Chapter 9 #2
My lips met with hers and I pressed my tongue into her mouth, holding her firmly.
She moaned her approval as she held onto me, going limp in my arms and I kissed her more roughly, biting her lip and hugging her slim body against my muscles, dominating every inch of her mouth and giving her no chance to take a single ounce of control in this.
When she was breathless, I pressed her back into Drake's arms and watched him grin at me like an arsehole.
Hell, the last time I’d kissed a girl like that I’d been caught and beaten for it.
She’d been a maid in the palace; a pretty girl who’d shared looks with me for weeks.
Quiet words had turned to breathy whispers.
And one day I’d cracked. She’d begged for my touch, so I’d pushed her against the wall and nearly lost my mind with how much I’d missed a woman’s touch, feeling wanted for the first time in so damn long.
It had been just my luck that Captain Marik himself had caught me before I’d been able to hitch her skirt up and fulfil the demands she was whispering into my ear.
Ten lashings every day for a week. He’d never been very imaginative with his punishments.
That had been back in my training days before I’d mastered every whim and urge in my body.
Nothing like that happened anymore. I didn’t break unless I decided to break.
No woman in this world held that power over me now.
I could stand before the goddess of fertility herself and my cock wouldn’t stir for her unless I bid it.
“Happy?” I demanded.
“Very,” Mira laughed in glee, moving out of Drake's arms as he raised an eyebrow at me.
“Come on, you’ve got a date with the ring. You need to earn your place here,” he said, as he nudged me towards the door.
I picked up a clean tunic, tugging it over my head before stepping past Drake as he waited for me to exit.
“Oh, hang on a second, mate.” Drake slashed his dagger through the mark behind my ear and I swung around as pain spiked from the wound. I grabbed his collar in my fist, yanking him close as I bared my teeth, anger flaring through me.
“I had to cover it up,” he said, shoving my hands off of him. “Unless you want someone else to spot it and gut you for it?”
I stood there for two more seconds, absorbing his words and deciding he was right as hot blood trickled down to my neck.
“Touch me like that again and I'll rip your lovely little face off and hang it on the wall,” I warned.
“That’d make one helluva piece of art, mate.
Fucking valuable, that’d be.” He grinned, clapping a hand to my back as he steered me out of the room.
I wasn't really fit for a fight with the wound on my side still burning, but if I had to prove myself, I needed to muster the strength to do it.
It was the only way I was going to keep air in my lungs for the foreseeable future, and as I worked to compartmentalise the pain I was in, I found myself growing eager to harness my fighting Affinity once more.
“Just curious, but is that how you kissed the horse?” Drake murmured under his breath and I released a low chuckle.
“No, the horse liked it gentle,” I muttered back and Drake let out a snort of amusement.
I’d never really met a man who appreciated my sense of humour. The Royal Guard were uptight and I’d been taught to be uptight too. But maybe here I didn’t have to be, although my humour was definitely rusty around the edges from lack of use.
“None of your men have even questioned the logistics of screwing a horse,” I said conversationally. “You do realise that would be a very difficult task.”
“I guess they reckon you’ve got what it takes, Cassius.
” Drake’s shoulder bumped mine as we walked, and I wondered if he had a charisma Affinity, because sometimes it was too easy to forget he was a ruthless criminal.
Though remembering how he’d straddled me in the street with a knife to my throat was a sharp reminder that his smiles were not to be trusted.
This man would probably smile while he bled me dry.
Lawless Fae didn’t tend to be fond of royal guards; two of my colleagues had been found with their heads cut off and thrown into a cesspit in the slums not so long ago.
For all I knew, Drake could have wielded the blade that had done that, and I would be a fool to forget it.
We moved through the crowd of ruffians and arrived at a ring made from a steel chain running in a circle around five stone pillars.
Balthazar and a savage looking man were waiting there bare chested and primed for the fight.
The rest of The Forty were gathering around the edges of the ring and I spotted The Den leader claiming the best spot for himself with Mira hanging from his arm and caressing his chest. I knew him by reputation alone.
Egos. Blinded in one eye, but that didn't make him any less precise with a blade.
There was a price on his head worth more than all the other men in this city.
He was wanted for countless crimes and for setting himself up as a false king within the kingdom of the emperor himself, but no one had ever come close to catching him.
He wasn't just a thief, he was a cold-blooded killer.
And I had half a mind to wipe him from the face of the world if I hadn't been surrounded by enough men to kill me for it.
“Ah, the blacksmith,” Egos purred with interest as Drake and I stepped into the ring, my new friend shedding his tunic and tossing it to the young boy who had been with us when we escaped the royal dungeon.
My gaze caught on the intricate tattoos which continued across the rest of his exposed skin and something deep within my soul seemed to bristle in recognition of the designs, though I couldn’t place them or understand any hidden meaning within them beyond that gut feeling.
“Are you willing to show your gall?” Egos pressed, drawing my full focus back to him.
I nodded, rolling my shoulders as I loosened up for the fight.
I had years of skill under my belt, but I suspected men like this weren't going to spar with any honour.
I wasn't going to lower myself to their standards though.
This match would be won with my integrity intact or not at all. It was just the way I was made.
“Ready?” Drake muttered to me as he took his place at my side and I eyed the intricate designs of the tattoos which caressed his deep bronze skin, the curves and symbols wound into them drawing my attention in a way that was hard to tear my gaze from.
They were coating all of the flesh which was on show, though each design stood alone, one on each of his pecs while a third covered his lower abs, disappearing beneath the waistband of his loose-fitting trousers.
He had one on each of his biceps too and one on each forearm.
They all held some similarity and yet were endlessly different from each other too, and I swear there was a taste of power about them so ancient that it reached out to caress the very fibre of my soul, drawing my mind to the stories of the Fallen.
“I’m ready,” I agreed, pulling my gaze from his tattoos, leaving my own tunic on in hopes that it might protect my wounds a little, though I doubted it would do much to help the ache of them.
I raised my fists, planting my feet in the way I'd always been taught. A few of the surrounding men muttered and I dropped my shoulders, trying not to give away my obvious training, though it was damn hard to work against instincts that had been beaten into me for more than half my life.
“Fight!” Egos bellowed and I ran forward to meet Balthazar with adrenaline spearing through my blood.
As suspected, he went for my crotch, my eyes and my injuries all within the first few seconds.
I avoided every blow, moving around him at speed and landing a sharp kick to his leg.
He cursed, stumbling back and I used my momentum to uproot him with a harsh punch to his jaw.
He hit the ground, but rolled smoothly, dancing upright like a light-footed pixie despite his size.
Balthazar’s fist came out of nowhere, smashing against my cheek and sending my head wheeling sideways just before Drake dove on his back and bit into his shoulder like a feral animal.
Two meaty hands caught my neck as I moved to advance on Balthazar, and I reached back for my new opponent with a snarl of determination.
I had already assessed him and could see his weaknesses clear as day.
He was a giant with no grace at all to his attacks, putting all of his power behind his blows without any tactic beyond brute force.
He was relying on his size alone, but that was a moronic thing to do against a skilled opponent.
Drake knocked Balthazar to the ground, pouncing on him and throwing punches into his face that would no doubt leave bruises visible for weeks to come, while taking blows to his sides which looked savage enough to break bones.
The giant heaved me backwards by the throat, locking his arm around me and trying to choke me out.
I slammed my heel down on his foot and he roared in anger, his grip only tightening and a laugh leaving his lips as he assumed his victory.
His confidence would only make my own win more satisfying though.
Something popped in my neck but I ignored the pain, reaching over my head and grabbing him by a fistful of his hair before using every ounce of strength I had to launch him forwards over my shoulder.
He slammed into the floor on his back and I waited for him to get up, trained not to kick a man when he was down in a formal fight.