3. Making an Enemy
MAKING AN ENEMY
I leapt into the ring with ease, took off my knife and my necklace and placed them on the side of the ring, not wanting to get blood on them. Then, I slowly rolled up my sleeves and turned to face the other alpha.
I could smell the excitement for blood and violence radiating from Rydel. He was a strong alpha. Bulky muscles flexed subtly under his skin as he squared his shoulders and expanded his chest, his nose wrinkling into a menacing sneer, a typical bluffing stance.
“No weapon, and no wolf-form,” he hissed, “whoever fails to get up in ten seconds loses.”
“Fair enough,” I said, facing him across the ring, keeping a leisurely pose and a smirk on my face. “Whenever you’re ready.”
My unceremonious attitude successfully provoked him even further. He let out a low growl before he pounced on me.
I had to applaud his speed and explosive power. It was rare for an alpha of his size to be this fast.
Unfortunately for him, I was faster than he was, and I could see each of his moves clearly. He was skillful, yes, but in a very predictable way.
Just as he feigned a strike and aimed his left hook at my face, I twisted my body slightly, evading his attack while grabbing his arm. I dug my fingers precisely into two spots on his inner elbow that would cause excruciating pain, and twisted relentlessly.
He cried out, but I didn’t give him time to breathe and kneed him in the stomach, followed by a brutal elbow strike to the back of his neck.
He collapsed to the ground and lost consciousness.
It took me less than ten seconds.
The crowd became so quiet that I could hear people’s breathing, broken only by the sound of someone dropping their tankard.
Moments later, the warriors from other northern clans let out tentative cheers, though they were sparse and quickly cut off. They probably didn’t want to provoke the crowd around them.
Prodding Rydel with my right foot, I cocked one of my brows, and said, “Hmm, seems like I’ve won.”
One of the guards standing near the ring gulped loudly. His face blanched in shock and terror.
I watched two guards drag Rydel out of the ring, then took my time to look around, a goading, smug smile on my face. “Is this what the ‘legendary’ Nocturne supreme fighting skills look like? Gotta say, I’m a little underwhelmed.”
“You fucking cheated!” one unidentified voice in the crowd shouted.
“You definitely hid weapons in your clothes!” another person said.
“Yeah! He cheated!”
I couldn’t believe it. Were all southerners such sore losers?
I rolled my eyes, then unfastened my belt and took off my tunic.
I folded them nicely and placed them next to my knife.
Now my upper body was exposed, but I was used to it and wasn't uncomfortable at all.
I wrestled with other warriors without a top all the time in Winterthrope.
I rolled the muscles in my shoulders, glancing at the crowd. “Anyone want to try again? The bet still stands.”
The crowd parted, and another alpha warrior stepped in.
He was even bigger than Rydel, basically a walking mass of pure muscles.
His chest and arms were covered in dark body hair, and several scars were scattered on his weathered face.
He bared his fangs at me. Rage and bloodlust boiled in his eyes.
“I’m going to fuck you up, you northie cunt!” he said.
I shrugged. “Let’s see who shall fuck whom, then.”
It took me slightly longer this round, and I received a few solid punches. But they weren’t nearly as hard as the ones I landed on him. He was powerful, no doubt, but slow. It lasted about ten minutes and ended with me choking him out of consciousness with a tight lock of my right leg.
They sent another one, then another. But I dropped them one by one. Eventually, no one came forward anymore, and I stood victorious in the middle of the ring, laughing mockingly.
“So, I guess this is it?” I looked around, enjoying the simmering yet futile ire radiating from the crowd. I could tell they wanted to tear me apart, but none dared to challenge me anymore.
I laughed sonorously, taking care to make my jeer hurt. “Well, if this is the best Nocturne warriors can do, I guess we northern clans should help you instead.”
Just then, came another voice, velvety, dark, and smouldering, reminding me of the scent of molten amber and aged wine: “Not so fast, warrior. I’ll challenge you.”
The expression on people’s faces shifted drastically, from astonishment to reverence. They all turned to the source of the voice and bowed; some hastily removed their helmet or hats.
An alpha male walked through the crowd, approaching the ring.
He was of a similar age to me, lean yet with broad shoulders and an imposing stature, possibly even an inch or two taller than me.
His perfect inverted triangle torso was wrapped in a well-tailored black brocade tunic, a silk cloak fastened to his shoulder with a lapis brooch.
His face was beautiful, but not in a delicate way like my brother’s.
His olive-toned skin was flawless, the lineaments of his facial features were deep and elegant, yet not lacking a predatory sharpness.
His hair was so dark and silky that it reflected a slight blue sheen, and his brown irises looked close to golden as firelight shone into them.
Okay ... which important royal member was this supposed to be?
“Who the fuck are you?” I frowned. I was sure he wasn’t in the crowd when I challenged Rydel, since I definitely would have noticed him.
“Does it matter?” the man said with a cold smirk. “Just know I’m the Nocturne who’s going to beat you.”
I wanted to mock him, but some instinct in me told me he was different from my previous opponents. His words were so calm that they lacked the usual heat of an alpha’s goading, yet I could smell the strong rush of bloodlust from him.
He removed his cloak and also took off his tunic, so that we were on equal ground in every aspect. To my surprise, there were several long, deep scars etched on his muscular torso, no fewer than mine. His glistening eyes kept locking with mine.
Did he ever blink?
We circled each other slowly, trying to discern the other’s potential strengths and weaknesses. He had a similar build to my body, though taller and with longer limbs, but perhaps he would be slower. If I could somehow catch him by surprise, then I might get a chance to overpower him.
With that in mind, I attacked without warning.
I lunged at him; my powerful jump was enough to send me across the ring and land directly on him.
However, he reacted so fast that his figure blurred into a smear of shadow.
Before I could steady myself, he was suddenly behind me, coming at me with a clean, deadly roundhouse kick, which I couldn’t fully evade.
His strength was beyond my expectations, and I staggered a few steps before regaining my footing.
He didn’t give me time to pause or breathe, and his attacks were direct, methodical, yet exceptionally efficient, no flowery, excessive moves, and each step, each punch was aimed to cause maximum damage.
I got a solid kick on the side of my head, and my teeth bit into my lips, filling my mouth with the metallic taste of blood.
I spat the blood on the ground. My skin buzzed with an excitement I’d never felt before. It was like tar rather than blood was coursing through my veins, igniting every time we clashed. Even the pain was exquisite. I let out a roar and lunged at him again.
My explosive strength and fast speed kept me from being dominated by his attacks, and once I got more used to his style, I began to fight back, landing several solid punches on him, but the hardest one was on his cheek.
His head snapped to the side as he stumbled. And blood poured out of his nose. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and then gave me a long, murderous glare and a devilish grin.
I could tell he was feeling the same battle fever I was having.
The crowd had been cheering for him. I was concentrating all my attention on the fight, and only then did I catch the name “Damien” in their fervent whoop.
No way ... was this aristocratic fucker the prince my brother was supposed to charm? The one I was supposed to befriend so he would help our clan fight vamps?
In a closely matched fight, even a moment of distraction could prove detrimental. He came at me like a flurry of tornadoes, his moves so fluent and fast that I only had time to block, with no chance to fight back. But then a small doubt crept into my mind.
What if he refused to help us if I pushed him too hard?
Just that one tiny doubt delayed me for half a second, but that was enough for him to find my weakness and slam me to the ground.
I tried to push him off to get up, but he pinned me to the ground with one of his knees to my stomach and pressed his right forearm against my throat, while grabbing my right arm above my head with his left.
He locked me to the ground with all the weight of his body, our bare, sweaty chests pressed together, the warmth of his skin burning mine.
“What was the bet again? If you can’t get up in ten seconds, you are going to run naked in the training yard?” he whispered into my ear with a sinister smirk.
Someone was already starting to count, and I panicked.
If I lose now, it would be a humiliation not only to me, but also to my clan and all northern clans.
I thrashed and cursed, using all my strength, trying to buck him off me.
My left hand must have left several scratches on his side and his back, but he was powerful and adamant.
He pressed me down with his body relentlessly, his grip so tight that it must have left bruises on my right wrist.
“Three. Four. Five ...”
“Let me go, you twat!” I cursed and tried to push my hips up, but then I froze.
I felt a hard bulge in his crotch area, grinding into mine.