Chapter 5 Nova #2
Only Hime could look like a walking mountain and still play the gregarious entertainer.
My dad, Ax, and Hime had been my first teachers, training me since I was a teen.
We’d broken bones together as he taught me to fight, taught me how to walk into a testosterone-choked room and own it.
Built me up to be the best fighter I could be while teaching Zeth beside me, too.
That was why I pulled him out of Vegas, family and all, to run my training facility here in Montana.
He didn’t just train fighters. He could read them. Give him three minutes, and he knew whether they had lungs for five rounds and the swagger to draw a crowd or if they were just alley brawlers with nothing but grit. I trusted his judgment… most days.
He bent down, voice quick with excitement.
“Glad you could make some time for us with your busy TV schedule.” I glared at him.
Wanting to rip out that cocoa-colored man bun and stab him in those dimpled cheeks.
His smile widened. “Got a couple of strong contenders today. I’m buzzing to see what they’ve got. You came at a good time.”
Zeth slid in at my side, leaning on the bar like he’d been here all along.
“These two?” He flicked his fingers at the pit, where a vampire clutched at his guts to keep them from falling out while a werewolf bled from the throat like a broken hydrant. “Worthless.”
“Not every fight’s about the prize,” Hime said, his voice loud enough for the pit to hear. “Throw the rabble in with the talent, and everybody gets sharper.” He waved at the ref. “Call it. Win goes to the wolf.”
Blowing the whistle, the ref scrambled over to the tournament board and erased the vampire’s name. The guy limped his way over, begging for another shot, but was shooed away. Behind him, hungry eyes shifted, salivating at the chance to step in and show what they got.
“Don’t dismiss the rabble yet,” I said. “The desperate ones always bite hardest, and those princesses look like they’re ready to get eaten.
” I pointed to the few fighters off to the side that were laughing and pointing at some of the others.
The tone of their bulked-up bodies screamed that they were professionals, but their eyes were filled with more dollar signs than instinct.
Hime folded his arms, lips twitching in that stubborn way that said we weren’t on the same page.
He wanted proof of what a fighter already was.
I wanted proof of what they could be. I liked the gamble, the thought of the diamond in the rough.
It was part of the Desmond DNA inside of me I could never shake.
“Come on! This isn't just-for-TV fighting.” And there was another shot at my project.
When I came up with this televised cage match idea, some of the captains of the Rossey clan were skeptical. My dad, Ax, ran a tight ship. Real clean fights were held in Vegas in front of a stadium of people, while the bloody side of things was kept to the underground that only supes could see.
I had a different vision. I wanted to make a channel that not only made recurring business but also showed the world how vicious and brutal supe fights could be. It would also announce to the world how powerful the Syndicate was. That had made Ezra almost giddy when I told her.
“You think one of these strays could take down a real fighter?” he asked, sweeping his hand across the crowd before his eyes lit with mischief.
“Fine, Boss Rossey. You pick your hungry dog. I’ll pick one of my killers. Let them tear each other apart. Winner makes their point.”
“And the loser?” I asked.
He scratched his jaw, searching for a prize both of us would be good with, but rewards didn’t mean much to people like us. Punishment, now that stuck with a person.
“Loser calls Tata Ternin and begs for a good-ol’-days story,” I said.
Zeth jerked his head in our direction so fast he nearly dropped his sunglasses. “No. No, no, no. Don’t take that bet, Hime.” His eyes went wide, and he shook his head like he could somehow ward off the challenge.
Seven hours. That was how long Tata had held him hostage last time, talking about his first kill, finding his mate and winning her hand, then a good long rant about how he didn’t see his daughter or grandchildren enough. That night, Zeth walked away a hollow man.
Hime’s eyes flicked between Zeth and me, weighing whether to take the bait. I shoved my hand out, a smug smirk curving my lips.
“It’s fine if you don’t take the bet. I know how much you hate losing.”
That lit the fuse.
His eyes narrowed, Zeth groaned under his breath, and Hime’s grip closed around my hand, hot and unyielding, pulling me a step further into his space. His mate Jasmine’s honeysuckle scent clung to him, but I caught the sharp edge of his own hunger bleeding through.
“I wouldn’t be running your mouth, princessa. This is my pit. My rules. I know who’ll stand and who’ll crawl out of here, so yeah, I’ll take your bet. I won't lose.”
I squeezed back, my smirk sharpening. “We’ll see, Hime. We’ll see.”
He let go first, growling his frustration straight into the dirt before snapping at the fighters, “Tournament’s on pause! The great Nova Rossey has decided to join us. Line up. Five rows of ten. Now!”
His face softened when he turned back, drill sergeant air replaced with an almost theatrical sweep of his arm. “I’m still a gentleman. Ladies first.”
“Don’t lie. You're a gentleman because Jasmine would kill you otherwise.” I knew who wore the pants in that relationship. His mate had a firm grasp on those huevos.
He had the decency to rub the back of his neck and look away as I laughed. “You don’t need to bring my mate into this. She’ll skin me alive if she hears I’m betting again.”
I dipped my chin in agreement before scanning the crowd, cataloging my choices. Suddenly, my gaze locked onto molten gold eyes, and the world… shifted.
Heat curled low in my belly, and my pulse thrummed in my veins.
Heart pounding so hard it was about to break out, skin prickling, I couldn’t look away.
It wasn’t just eye contact. There was some kind of invisible tether tugging at me.
My wolf stirred uneasily, half-curious, half-ready to bare her teeth.
Both of us were confused as to why we were feeling this way.
I forced myself to keep moving, dragging my eyes across the other fighters like he hadn’t just stolen every ounce of air out of my lungs. I held him in my periphery, though, like my body refused to let him go.
“Nova?”
Zeth’s hand brushed my elbow, grounding and infuriating at the same time. My head snapped toward him, his clenched jaw and those worried Caribbean-tide eyes seeing far too much. I yanked my arm free with a tight smile, covering the slip.
“Just taking my time. Don’t want my ears bleeding later because I chose the wrong one.”
I spun back fast, as if I could outrun his suspicion, only to collide with those golden eyes again. They weren’t just on me; they were in me. The words left my lips before I thought better of it. Chin lifted, I pointed.
“That one.”
Shading his eyes with his hand, Hime squinted. “You want to stake a bet on a turned wolf?”
His disbelief wasn’t unfounded. Turned wolves were slower, weaker, fragile in comparison to bloodline-born, but those eyes—gods, those eyes—held a determination that dared me not to trust it.
He had pain buried deep, but it was burning hot enough to ignite and win.
That man would survive if he wanted to… and that seemed like the best bet for me. High risk but high reward.
“Yep.” I popped my hip and turned to Hime, arching my brow in practiced defiance. “So, really, you have no excuse not to win, right?”
The look Hime shot me said he knew I was pulling something, but he didn’t know exactly what.
“Nash! Nick! Get in the pit!” he barked. Eyeing me again, he huffed, “We’ll see, Boss. We’ll see.”
Those piercing, molten yellow eyes—Nick’s eyes—never left mine.
Even as he moved forward, even as a lock of raven-black hair slid into his face.
My breath caught when he dragged off his dark grey shirt, the fabric clinging until the last second before baring a body cut from years of training and control.
If I were anyone else, I’d be fanning myself. If Niyah were here, she’d be hooting and demanding he strip off the rest.
Nick. So, that’s his name. I’ll remember that.
The same chill from before ran down my spine, electric and unsettling, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the thrill of the fight about to start… or because of him.
I forced my gaze off him and onto his opponent, the vampire, and gripped my arms hard.
He looked like he’d crawled straight out of a war zone.
Scars webbed across his face and body, catching the light in jagged slashes.
That alone told me something. Vampires weren’t supposed to keep scars unless they deliberately stunted their healing, which meant this male carried his damage like a badge.
His muscles swelled under his skin as if they wanted to break free, his dark eyes narrow, head shaved clean. Grim Reaper, that was the vibe. For half a second, I almost worried for Nick. Almost. Then the ref’s whistle blew.
The scarred vampire lunged, slamming his shoulder into Nick’s face.
The crack of bone made me wince, and the thud of his body hitting the floor shook through me.
The vampire straddled him and started hammering blows with no hesitation.
Nick covered his face, weathering it like a shield wall, but it wasn’t a good look.
I nearly opened my mouth to call it, to tell Hime he won and to end it, but something stopped me cold. The air shifted. Down in the pit, the vampire started showboating, throwing in unnecessary flourishes between strikes. That arrogance was his mistake.
Nick had been waiting for his perfect time to strike.
One second, the vampire was pointing to another fighter, and the next, Nick’s legs snaked around the vampire’s ankles, twisting with sharp, brutal efficiency, and rolling him to the side.
In a blink, he had the upper hand. My chest jolted so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
He shifted his hands into claws, slowly, deliberately, then raked them across the vampire’s face.
Flesh tore. Blood sprayed, but not once did Nick hesitate. He just kept going.
Nick was measured and steady, almost restrained, and obviously trained in combat…
until he struck like lightning. It was the stuff of nightmares and dreams. I’d owned plenty of gyms all over the United States, but I’d never seen a supe male fight like this before.
Elusive. Controlled. Under that calm, the killer was alive and hunting.
The vampire managed to buck him off eventually, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. His body slowed, but not in a calculating way, more like he was unraveling.
“What the fuck?” Zeth barked, his voice cracking. Beside me, Hime’s arms were folded taut, eyes locked on the pit, and I saw it. He finally recognized the potential I’d spotted from the start.
The vampire fought like any other supe, using raw speed and brute strength. Nick fought like something else entirely. His dodges were slick, his footwork deceptive, like the way he slid behind an opponent like smoke then punished them with precision.
When the final countdown hit, he unleashed.
Kicks, strikes, every blow landed, every dodge clean, and when the whistle blew, he finished with a savage uppercut that rattled the vampire’s teeth.
The body hit the ground hard. The crowd along the edges roared, fighters pounding his back. The winner was obvious.
I turned to Hime, arms crossed, a sharp smile cutting across my face. I flicked my tongue over a fang I’d let slide out, long and thin, a flash of my savage side. “Told you.”
“Fucking fine,” Hime grumbled. “You win. Don’t get a big head about it.”
Too late. That giddy rush burned through me, hot and electric. I glanced back down at Nick, who was already looking up at me. Our eyes caught, held, before I blew him a kiss and winked. A promise. He’d be mine.
“Good job, Hime,” I said briskly, looking down at my watch to see whether we needed to head out to the next spot. “We’ve got to split, but make sure Nick’s name is on my winners roster tonight.”
“You got it, princesa,” he muttered, trying for good sportsmanship.
I hugged him quickly, but my eyes betrayed me, darting back to that wide, sweat-slick, toned back in the pit. My lip caught between my teeth before I could stop it, a thought burning hot in my mind. What would it feel like to touch him? To dig my nails into that muscle and feel it flex beneath me?
“Nova!” Zeth’s bark snapped me back, pulling me toward the door.
I scrambled to catch up, but the truth stayed under my skin, burning. Eventually, I’d get him alone. I’d figure out what it was about Nick that pulled me in, making me restless and hungry.
I couldn’t wait.