Chapter 20 Conrad #2
Small, diamond-shaped, and slightly darker than the skin behind her neck, it was half-hidden beneath the fall of her white hair.
The second my gaze locked on it, everything in me detonated. The world blurred out, sound and movement collapsing into silence until only she remained. My pulse thundered. My body heated from the inside out, every instinct clawing toward her.
My mark.
She was wearing my mark.
It pulsed, faint but alive, and she must’ve felt it too because she sat up and lifted a hand to rub the spot, her brow furrowing in confusion. Then someone called her name, and the spell broke. She turned, smiling at whoever it was, while I sat there like a man struck by lightning.
Even as the crowd rose to applaud the first fighters, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My mind was a blur of disbelief, hunger, and something dangerously close to joy.
My mate.
Nova Rossey was my fucking mate.
For a second, the thought filled me up, making me feel reckless.
My chest felt too tight for my ribs. Ideas started tripping over themselves—merging businesses, houses, lives.
I imagined her in my home, her things scattered among mine, her scent in every room.
Or maybe I’d move in with her, both of us running operations under the same roof.
Butterflies, actual goddamn butterflies, churned in my gut, and I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
I’d stopped believing this could happen a long time ago.
Turned supes weren’t supposed to find their mates.
Our bloodlines were fractured, our threads of fate frayed with watered-down magic.
The chances were slim, and I’d accepted that.
I’d learned to live without the ache of wanting something that wasn’t meant for me.
Then here she was. A woman carved from steel and fire, strong enough to hold her own in a world built to break us. My perfect match. My anchor. My undoing.
Beneath the joy, fear slid in like a crack through glass. The memory of her face in the woods, cool and detached, as she pulled away before the sweat had dried. The way she’d made it clear that whatever had happened between us was an indulgence, nothing more.
That memory gutted me now.
She didn’t know. Or she didn’t feel it. Either way, if I lunged too soon, I’d lose her before I even had her.
So, I forced myself to breathe. To steady my pulse. To mask the chaos boiling beneath my skin.
If she wasn’t feeling the bond yet, pushing it would only drive her off, and the last thing I wanted was for her to walk away.
I’d been abandoned before. Lost in a world that didn't have time or mercy for a turned vampire whose sire had left him on the side of the road.
The thought of her disappearing the same way scraped at something raw inside.
No, I’d be smarter. Slower. Patient. I’d make her fall without realizing she was falling.
When she finally looked at me and felt it, when she realized what we were, she wouldn’t just accept the bond.
She’d want it. Her wolf would want it.
“Nova Rossey!”
A fire mage with a thick Latin accent swept up to her before I could blink, dragging her into a bear hug and kissing both her cheeks like they were old lovers.
My eye twitched. “Thank you, thank you! I promise you won’t be disappointed in Deslen.
He’s top tier, top notch. I swear on my grandmother. ”
My jaw flexed. The sound that left my throat was almost a growl. My vampire fangs poked out on instinct, sharp and aching for a throat, his throat. Every inch of me screamed to rip him away from her, to make him remember whose air he was daring to share.
The words he just said registered in my head, and I took a step back. Deslen. That was the fighter she had put in last minute. This was business.
Nova smiled at him, but it was all teeth and polish, the kind of smile that said, you’re useful, not special. My chest loosened a fraction, then the frustration came back, sharp and bitter. I looked around. Where the hell was Zeth? Wasn’t it his damn job to keep idiots like this away from her?
“It’s nice to see you, Antonio.” Her voice dipped in warning as she tugged on his hand. “I’m sure he’ll work out just fine, but if he doesn’t, I know where to find you.”
Sweat beaded along the mage’s brow, and the rising stench of panic came before she released his hand with a small, amused laugh. She turned to me like this was always a part of her plan.
“Let me introduce you to Conrad Mecariee.” She glanced at me, smiling as the golden rings in her hair shined. “He runs some fights you might be interested in.”
She turned and motioned toward him. “Antonio Ramirez, he’s got some talent in South America that might interest you. He’s looking to expand into turned fighters, so I think you two will have plenty to discuss.”
Her tone said it wasn’t a suggestion, so I obliged, turning on my business mask.
Shaking his hand, I forced civility into my grip when all I wanted was to break his hand off.
Small talk flowed out of me like muscle memory, polite, effortless, the kind of charm that made men laugh even when they knew I’d gut them in business later.
She was handing me an opportunity on a silver platter, and I played the part she expected until Antonio finally took the hint and disappeared back into his seat.
Then she leaned in close.
Her scent surrounded me in wildflowers with a fresh sweetness that made me salivate. My pulse stuttered as the air around her became hotter.
Her hand slid up my thigh, deliberate and slow. Her voice brushed against my ear. “I expect a twenty percent finder’s fee on whatever comes of that.”
Her fingers tightened just enough to make my breath hitch and my heart pound.
A sharp laugh tore out of me, too loud, too unguarded. A few heads turned our way, but I didn’t care. This—this—was why she fit so perfectly in the jagged edges of my world. She was power wrapped in silk, ambition that smiled while it bit.
When she looked at me again, her eyes gleamed that golden blush color, swirling with a kind of predatory calm that made weaker men step back and walk away. Her plush lips flattened into a thin, unreadable line. Her hair, that ashy blonde mane, fell across half her face, half-light, half-shadow.
It should’ve been intimidating. Instead, I wanted more of it.
I couldn’t hold back anymore. The tension that had been winding tight since the moment we sat down snapped. My hand found her jaw, fingers sliding into her hair as I made sure my thumb skated over the mark.
She gasped but didn’t stop me.
I tilted her face toward mine and captured her lips.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t patient. It was full of desperation, months of denial and hunger packed into one reckless moment. Her lips softened beneath mine, and, for one fleeting heartbeat, she kissed me back.
Her hand, the same one that had just threatened me, slid higher. Her fingers brushed my crotch. Her tongue grazed mine. Heat flared between us, and the world narrowed down to just the sound of her breath and the thud of my heart.
Then a crash broke the spell. Glass shattered somewhere behind us, followed by a muttered “Shit!”
Nova pulled away, breath unsteady, eyes darting to the floor. The guy behind us, Nick, was already crouched, trying to scoop up shards with a bleeding hand.
A tall male fairy in a pressed vest appeared like magic, conjuring a vacuum that swept away the mess in seconds. Nick muttered something, his jaw tight, as he sat back down when the male fairy said he would bring him another.
The air changed. The tension was back, thicker, heavier. Nick’s stare drilled into the back of Nova’s head.
What the hell was that about?
Before I could ask, Zeth returned, settling beside her with that infuriating calm. “Looks like I missed a part of the show,” he said, voice dry as ash.
Nova froze when their eyes met. An entire conversation was exchanged without a single word, then she turned away sharply, murmuring something about watching the fight. I didn’t miss the color creeping up her neck or the way her knuckles cracked as she clasped her hands together.
Something had happened between them. Recently.
The realization hit hard, followed by another. The jealousy I’d felt toward Antonio wasn’t the same as what I felt toward Zeth… or even the wolf behind us, Nick. They were different kinds of threats.
When I thought about it, her mother had been famous for having multiple mates, so why wouldn’t Nova be the same?
The thought should’ve angered me, but instead, it twisted into something sharper, more strategic. Wanting her all to myself hadn’t changed, that fire still burned as fierce, but I could play the long game. I always did.
Business had taught me this much: every obstacle was just an opportunity in disguise. Every challenge was a chance to plan smarter.
So, I’d adapt. Watch. Wait. Learn her rhythm. Learn theirs.
Because no matter who else thought they had a claim, in the end, she’d be mine. My mate.
One way or another.
With Nova’s attention locked on the fight, I didn’t fully register the heat of someone’s glare until I turned away. I found a set of turquoise eyes staring at me. Zeth. His cutting stare sent a message, clear and simple. Go away. Leave her alone. She’s mine.
I met his look with a slow, knowing smile, my eyes flicking to Nova’s before finding his again. Then I let my tongue drag across a fang, giving my unspoken response. I’m not going anywhere.
His nostrils flared, lip curling just enough to flash teeth.
The expression was pure animal, almost feral.
He might be a demon, but that man had been raised by wolves.
Unfortunately for him, if that was supposed to scare me, he needed to take more lessons from Nova. Now, her glare could skin a man alive.
The crowd roared as the fight officially began, but it was just distant thunder beneath the silent war between Zeth and me. No words. Just tension thick enough to choke on. Every breath, every subtle twitch of muscle, was another round in our private brawl.
Now and then, I caught movement from behind. Nick’s eyes flicked toward Nova, then back to the ring, a quiet shake of his head following. He wasn’t a threat, not yet. Just another moth circling her flame.
A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd, breaking our stare-off.
My gaze snapped back to the ring just as a massive sepia-skinned fighter with long braids twisted midair, bones cracking and reshaping until a black jaguar the size of a horse landed on padded feet.
The lines of shimmering magic stayed on his fur, marking him as a fae shifter.
The shifter lunged, sinking his fangs into a vampire’s forearm before the strike could land. With a brutal twist, he flung the bloodsucker across the mat like a discarded toy.
So, that was Deslen Tacnon. I’d heard the name whispered among the underground circuits. Fast, brutal, untouchable. Seeing him now? I could tell why the whispers seemed to chant his name. He was a cloud of shadow wrapped in muscle and fury. A rare species, too.
Too proud and too protective of their shrinking lands, most jaguar shifters didn’t cross over from Faerie. Their kind loved fiercely, fought harder, and birthed rarely. To see one here was a sight worth the price of admission alone.
Across from him, Copland Banner, the reigning vampire heavyweight, looked almost mortal by comparison. His jabs were quick, his footwork sharper than most, but Deslen danced through his blows like smoke, turning defense into art, his counters precise and devastating.
Beside me, Nova leaned forward, eyes lit with feral excitement as blood splattered across the mat when one of Deslen's uppercuts connected. Her lips curved, the gold in her gaze burning bright. With every blow that landed, I could hear her pulse thump faster, could see it against her skin. Watching her thrive in the chaos was addictive, so much so that I didn’t even realize he’d delivered the final strike until the crowd erupted, bodies surging to their feet in a collective roar.
Deslen stood victorious, the vampire sprawled at his feet, unconscious. The announcer’s voice boomed, declaring him the winner by knockout. I barely heard it, too busy watching the reflection of the fight still flickering in Nova’s eyes.
Then Deslen took the mic.
“I dedicate this fight to you!” he roared, his accent thick and rich as his finger pointed straight at Nova. A hush fell over the crowd. “I’ve finally found you! My mate. The woman I’ll marry! This win, and every win to come, belongs to you!”
Every head turned toward her, and my gut sank. Oh, hell.
Nova froze, her eyes narrowed into slits before she rose up out of her chair. Her body trembled as her right fist clenched. Power coiled around her skin, and you could almost see the bones starting to bend as the atmosphere bent away from her heat.
Her voice became lethal. “Who the fuck do you think you are to say that to me?”
Oh, shit. This was about to get messy.
* Haunt Me by Bryce Savage