When I twisted back around in my seat, my eyes mashed up against Jerrod’s bare chest. He’d torn his shirt off like any proper cage fighter wannabe and was swinging it over his head like a lasso. His face was coated in sweat and blood and his eyes were pitch-black pools. He looked up at me, his fangs bared, and licked his lips.
My stomach lurched. Apparently eating beforehand hadn’t been the best idea.
My father rose and quickly dragged me up to my feet as well. He applauded and I joined in, granted in a slow, golf clap fashion, to avoid argument. Jerrod blew me a kiss, said something garbled up, but ended with princess, and was then carted out of the ring.
There was barely a minute to recover before the next match-up was announced. The second and third fights were roughly the same as the first. Unfamiliar vampires all beating the ever-loving crap out of each other, while a crowd of vamps (who clearly had too much free time on their hands) cheered them on from the sidelines.
I played my role, giving a forced smile to the contenders before and a round of applause to the victors when they finished. As each fight ended, my heart inched a little higher in my chest, realizing that within moments, it could be Matthias standing before me, ready to fight.
When the last round was announced, I braced myself. There was no more avoiding it.
The two fighters came out in the same hooded cloaks as the others before, but this time there was no doubt in my mind. I zeroed in on the taller of the two silhouettes and the breath caught in the back of my throat. Matthias.
“Well, well, what’s this? Some emotion for the young man?” my father drawled.
Pinpricks of heat formed spiderwebs over my skin. I didn’t deign to grant my father the affirmation he was seeking, so I plainly replied, “I’m just ready to get this over with. This might be your idea of fun, but personally I’d be having more fun at the dentist.”
He chuckled and didn’t bother with a response.
He knew he didn’t need one.
Even after five years apart, there was no denying that he knew me better than most. Maybe better than anyone. Stars, now that was scary.
The announcer called out Matthias’s name and my pulse jumped. The two men turned, dropped their hoods, and Matthias’s green eyes found mine. I couldn’t read the emotion behind them. He was too far away. The smile I’d grown so used to was absent. There wasn’t a drop of warmth in his eyes. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought him another one of my father’s chiseled guards.
From somewhere to my left, the rumbling announcer shouted, “To the ring!”
The drums started again.
The fight was beginning.
Chapter 15
I couldn’t look.
I couldn’t not look.
Though I resisted watching the fight through splayed fingers, it was only out of sheer resistance to the idea of giving my father any validation to his statement before the fight began. As far as he needed to know, Matthias was the same as any other fighter. We’d spent a week together, but it hadn’t meant a thing to me.
Except, as the fight began, I realized that it had.
Matthias was a skilled fighter. I’d expected as much, after seeing him handle Jerrod at the gala and again at his nightclub. But even those initial expectations were blown away as I watched him dance around the ring. He moved so quickly that I only saw the full impact of his strikes in the reaction from his opponent. He wasn’t needlessly brutal, he wasn’t going to drag out the fight simply to slake the bloodlust of the crowd, either.
His opponent, Terron Lemon, knew he was outclassed. He was scrappy and put up a good fight, but as the minutes stretched on, it was clear he was going to lose the matchup. Matthias moved in, swift and silent, grabbed Lemon by the arms and twisted him into a painful hold. The pain registered on Lemon’s face and the crowd, sensing the finale, leaned in expectantly.
I saw Matthias’s lips move, but couldn’t hear what he said over the dull roar of the crowd. He repeated it, his mouth closer to Lemon’s ear, and then jerked on the man’s arm for emphasis. Lemon broke. A scream echoing into the night. The guards moved closer to the edges of the ring. With a final wince of pain, Lemon declared his surrender and Matthias released him, just as lightning-quick as he’d grabbed him.
Unlike the other suitors, in victory, Matthias refused to strut and preen for the crowd’s benefit. As soon as Lemon left the ring, muttering to himself, Matthias turned toward the dais. He bowed and then stalked away, going to sit with the other three victors.
My father stood and gestured for me to rise with a sharp flick of his fingers. I followed him to the edge of the dais, standing half a step behind. My eyes were glued to Matthias, but he wasn’t looking at me. I swallowed hard around a lump in my throat.
“What a night!” my father said, beaming at the enthusiastic cheers that followed. “Congratulations to our winners. You will all move on to the next round of fighting, where I guarantee, things will get a little more interesting.”
Oh. I did not like the sound of that.
My father continued speaking, wrapping up the festivities with an invitation for all to join the victors in the ballroom for a celebratory drink. When he stepped back, the crowd dispersed, all moving back down the path to the mansion. I noticed my father’s eyes drift to Athena and her baby-faced companion as they exited the makeshift arena. Something sparked in his eyes, only for a moment, before they returned to their usual dull sheen.
“Are you pleased with the outcome of the fighting, daughter?” he asked.
I frowned at his profile. “Does my happiness really matter?”
He looked at me briefly. “Obedience is what matters most. However, I realize that it serves us both if you’re at least somewhat satisfied with the outcome of the tournament.”
“How heartwarming. You know, I’m sure Hallmark makes a card with those same sentiments. Daughter, I wish you to be at least somewhat satisfied in your new venture. Hearts and candy, Dad.”
My father scoffed.
I didn’t wait for his next reply. It was like talking to a cranky snake. Instead, I took the steps down from the dais and went to join Gemma and Uncle Kevin as they made their way to the ballroom.
At least I could get a drink.
The mood in the ballroom was light and jovial, a stark, almost jarring, contrast to the events that had taken place mere minutes beforehand. The suitors who had lost their battles were not in attendance and I noticed a few pockets of vampires wearing sour expressions and realized that not everyone was happy with the outcome of the matchups. The victors were cleaned up and dressed in near-identical dark suits. They were seated at a long table on the dais, my father and me anchored in the center, flanked by two on each side.
Matthias was seated on the very end of the table, as they’d apparently been arranged by the order of their fights. When the suitor beside me, Leo Parrish, excused himself to get another drink, I found myself staring right into a familiar pair of green eyes. My father was lost in conversation about some trade deal with Jerrod and the winner of the second round, who sat to his right. I took the opportunity to scoot one seat down. The farther away from Jerrod, the better.
“Are you okay?” I asked Matthias, fighting the urge to reach up and touch the gash on his brow. Someone had cleaned it and applied three butterfly bandages across it, but it still made me wince. “That cut looks pretty bad.”
Matthias shrugged one shoulder before flashing a half-cocked grin. “You should have seen the other guy.”
I folded my arms and bit back a smile. “This is amusing to you?”
His eyes flashed, stealing away a fraction of the warmth to his stare. “Not at all, actually.”
Before I could find a stepping stone to another topic, something safer, Lady Hartford interrupted us. She bustled up to the table, her eyes wide, not with concern for her son’s wellbeing, but rather with pride. “You were magnificent, Matty!”
Matthias hid a cringe and nodded his head. “I did what I had to do.”
“Oh, he’s being modest,” she said, waving a hand to dismiss his words. “Of course, I already knew he would pull through! Cara foresaw it weeks ago!”
My brow creased. “Cara?”