Chapter 19 Velra #2
And it seemed like tonight that reason would be thrust into the light.
I guess it was the time for a whole lot of that in several respects.
Hiding and denial hadn’t helped anything.
Sylas looked out at me, his gaze dropping to my lips for a moment, before he smiled, his eyes sparkling, which was really saying something considering all he’d suffered tonight.
I smiled back at him.
And then I sucked in steadying breath and teleported out.
Holy hell.
It was unbelievably brutal.
Like, no-holds-barred.
Sylas had been right on the money.
I’d heard about how intense it could be here.
Wherever I went, I ensured I did my research.
And this had been no exception.
But some things were different in practice, different up close.
Magical amber fire flickered erratically from the iron settings above, meekly lighting up the space, keeping most of it cast in shadow and darkness, clearly the intention for such a gritty, down and dirty place.
Roars, whistling, and cheering blared through the space like an aggressive cacophony that I was doing my best to try to block out.
Spectators were leaning forward on the edge of the coliseum-type seating around the fight circle, some on their feet and whooping.
Right now, they were all embroiled in watching a very bloody fight between a Light Fae and a Dark Fae—two warrior women going hard at it, using magic and bare fists and feet to brutalize one another.
I’d watched the Light Fae have her two front teeth knocked out.
Magic would fix it later, but for now, it had definitely added to the bloody spectacle.
I wanted to hate it.
Normally, I didn’t like people being hurt.
But that was my surface reason. Because it did call to my darker side. The violence, the power in that and the aggression… I liked it on some level. It made something stir inside me… something that I was afraid of acknowledging fully, let alone actually letting out and allowing it breath.
At least that was until I saw Lazriel stride down the gangway as the current fight came to an end.
He had a green satin robe hanging off his shoulders that was marked with glittering gold letters as Halfblood Hound. It was open, revealing matching shorts beneath, along with all that sculpted muscle of his.
There was so much dark intensity coming off him that I couldn’t look away.
Everything else faded into the background, the surroundings, even the raucous cheers as he shook off his robe, then took his place within the magical circle.
A vampire stepped in—a fourth year who also had a Graverun ring like Lazriel did.
The guy was a monstrous powerhouse who even towered over Lazriel.
He had his fangs bared already, in full vampire mode, twisted features and all.
Even his talons were out as he assumed a fighting stance in nothing but a pair of tight black shorts, and waited for the magical flag to signal the start of the fight.
The moment it fell, the vampire slammed forward with a burst of speed.
Lazriel spun and smashed his elbow into his face at the brutal point of contact that sent the guy crashing into the magic of the circle, then ricocheting off it.
Lazriel was there in the next second, throwing his fists, yanking on the guy’s neck, then crushing his face with his knee, before then executing a spinning kick that had his opponent careening across the other side of the circle.
The guy choked and spluttered, and it took him several moments to get back to his feet. Even when he did, he was unsteady.
Not only wasn’t Lazriel pulling any punches, he was being unnecessarily brutal.
Because it wasn’t this vampire who he was really fighting. It was a whole lot else.
And then something shocking happened.
Lazriel allowed his opponent to get in a hit.
Not by accident.
Intentionally.
I knew how fast he could move.
The punch had been sluggish on account of the guy being badly hurt from Lazriel’s attack and his healing not yet kicking in.
But Lazriel let it plow into his chest.
It didn’t faze him, because he was like a wall of titanium, especially in a fight, as I’d seen from the scene in the forest earlier when he’d taken so much magical damage from Rennick and had somehow still pushed on when most would be on their knees at the very least and screaming out into the night, if not already unconscious.
His opponent hit again.
Again, again, and again.
Lazriel finally staggered back.
An uppercut from the vampire had his head snapping up.
Another punch smashed into his face, bloodying his lip.
He flashed a bloodied grin, then held his hands out either side.
The guy snarled, then wailed on him like he was a fucking punching bag, not a real person.
I grimaced and clenched my fists.
It was fucking brutal, blood spewing everywhere as Lazriel just took the punishment.
Silently, while the disgruntled roars from the crowd filtered back in to me, people shocked that he wasn’t winning out, that he was just enduring it.
No. More than that.
Holding his hands out in invitation. The grinning, then a couple of unhinged laughs… he was welcoming it.
He wanted to be hurt.
He wanted the pain.
As he hit the floor, I couldn’t take another second of it.
He spat up a mouthful of blood, and his opponent kicked him in the face screaming that the Graverun King was about to be dethroned.
“Lazriel!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Despite the overbearing uproar from the crowd, many heard me, turning their heads my way.
Normally, it would risk causing a spiral—I didn’t like drawing attention to myself.
But in this moment, I couldn’t care fucking less.
All that mattered was the flinch I saw from Lazriel, the fact that he’d registered my voice.
And as his opponent went to kick him in the face again, Lazriel’s hand shot out, he grasped the guy’s ankle, then hauled him away with a single ruthless move that almost knocked him out cold.
Lazriel sprung to his feet, his eyes locking with mine a hundred feet from where he stood, instantly finding me through the dozens of onlookers.
He must have seen it in my eyes, something there that I’d been trying to deny for a long time, because his entire focus shifted.
His eyes hooded.
And then he burst out of the circle, unceremoniously ending the fight, snatching up his satin robe, then snagging me across the waist in a burst of vampire speed, our surroundings blurring into nothingness.