by Elaina Jadin
He extends his hand, which I shake once, firmly, and he jerks his head towards Xander, who is already heading toward the bar to fetch our drinks. “His first time at the Tribunal?”
I give Nikolai a smile, “His third. He and his brother used to be as jumpy as a hare with a coyote on its tail, but they’re coming along nicely now.”
“With our skittish cubs, we put them in a crucible,” Nikolai tells me, slapping his hands together with finality. The sound is loud, even over the din of the crowd and the music pumped in through the speakers inlaid in the ceiling. “Only the strong survive. Winter is harsh, and bears must not be weak.”
To the uninitiated, it must sound cruel. But I know all too well that life is harsh, and you must learn to survive at all costs, or perish to keep your pack strong. I’m a wolf, through and through, and I’ve grown to love the challenge of survival, but a chill still runs down my back at the memory of the vicious trials I endured as a pup.
Ignoring the shiver snaking up my spine, I reply to Nikolai, “Winter is harsh, indeed. Now, speaking of fighting for survival—you’re not here to ask me to take it easy on you tonight, are you?”
The man laughs loudly at my ribbing, and stretches his arms up in an exaggerated flex with mirth in his eyes. “If you show me an ounce of mercy, I will take your soul tonight.”
I return his smile good-naturedly. “I expect no less. And if I walk out of the ring wearing less than a pint of your blood, I’ll fall on my own sword in dishonor.”
Nikolai laughs again, and slaps me on the shoulder, but I don’t miss his glance past me, at Jemma. Before I know it, an introduction slips from my mouth. “Nikolai, this is Jemma.”
He bows over the hand she offers politely. “Jemma, this is Nikolai, my opponent for the evening, and a friend otherwise.”
“I must apologize, madam,” he teases her as she eyes him warily. “Unfortunately, he will not provide much enjoyment for you after the fight, since he’ll be licking his wounds and recovering from my victory. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you entertained.”
Jemma lets out a surprised laugh, but as she pulls her hand away from his grasp she says, “I’m not too concerned, I think Kade will end up on top before the night’s over.” Her gaze shifts to me with a sly smile.
Usually, I would jest with Nikolai about the spoils of war, including the females we’ve brought. That’s been our common arrangement, but tonight the growl that rises from my chest isn’t playful. Jemma will not be the gift I send to his room.
I eye her hungrily, my wolf snapping and pacing in response to her teasing. I’m going to have my Champion’s reward tonight, that’s for damn sure. With great effort, I suppress the possessive growl, and turn to my opponent, managing a smile.
“Don’t assume your time in the ring will be so painless, Nikolai,” I say, my threat good-natured but truthful. “After all, I have something worth fighting for tonight.”
Nikolai chuckles and looks at Jemma. “Perhaps I shall let him hit me a few times, just for you.” He gives her a wink, then claps me on the arm. “I like her. Come, let’s prepare.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” I promise, and he slips away, heading toward the locker rooms.
I turn back to Jemma and crouch beside her chair. “I’ll be gone until after the fight. This is a bloody, vicious event. But your place is here,” I say, waving a hand at our private balcony, “and as long as you obey us, you’ll be fine.”
She nods once with a slight quiver of her chin, but I have faith in her. She’s more resilient than she thinks. Still, as I stand up I send a knowing glance at Draven. He nods once in acknowledgement—Jemma is in his hands now.
Tamping down the urge to press my lips to Jemma’s hair, I smooth my hand over her head instead, tugging a lock of hair free from the elegant twist. I run the soft strand between my fingers as she gazes up at me. Her eyes are amber pools of temptation, heating the dangerous part of me—the wolf who demands to protect his mate, the one who will be the champion for her heart, and I grab hold of that fierce instinct.
Releasing her hair, I rub my hand across my jaw, placing her scent there. I will smell her, when I’m in the ring, and the wolf will bite harder. Nikolai shouldn’t have mentioned having her company tonight—that alone will fuel my fury more than he knows.
“Make sure Nikolai doesn’t land any punches on that pretty face,” Bishop teases as he finally pockets his phone and takes his place on the other side of Jemma, his mouth curling into a sardonic smile, a glimmer of that chilling wickedness in his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to look like a beast and scare away our little fawn.”
23
Jemma
I cling to my water, wishing that Nio, one of the young men who seem to be serving as assistants to the three alphas tonight, brought me something stronger. Although I’ve never loved the taste of alcohol, tonight I’d relish a stiff drink. But a look from Draven silenced the request before I could even ask.
Once again, it’s as if he knows. Alcohol numbs me in ways that are good and bad—I don’t feel my fear as sharply when I’m drunk, but neither do I feel caution and common sense. The last time I relied on the power of alcohol as a barrier between myself and my terror, I spiraled out of control with a series of bad decisions that piled up like an all-night train wreck.
From the corner of my eye, I glance at Draven, wondering if he knows about that. Perhaps there’s a report about it in that thick file of his, the one full of all the disgraceful details of my life.
I’ve spent more time by his side than any of the other men, but he still confuses the fuck out of me. Right now, I don’t know if I’m angry at him for barring me from an adult cocktail as though I’m a mere child, or if I appreciate his considerate foresight in preventing what would surely be a tailspin later.
It feels almost protective, in a way. But I shouldn’t kid myself. His decision is more about ensuring I don’t embarrass him tonight than anything else.
As we made our way inside, past the crowds of people who were gawking and whispering, it seemed most of them had their eyes fixed on me. But it must be my nerves getting to me. I’m no one of importance.
Those women, though… they were definitely staring me down, whoever they were. Talk about if looks could kill. But I didn’t have any love for them, either. Not with how familiar they were acting toward the guys—especially the tall one with a hankering for Kade. I wanted to shove her on her ass, and if I came away with a handful of her pretty blonde hair in the process, then all the better.
I know I’m a temporary existence in their lives, nothing more than a few weeks of entertainment and a way to fuck with Bryan. They’ve never given me an indication of anything different—I belong to them, not the other way around. But damn, those women still made my blood boil.
Speaking of the men I belong to, neither Draven nor Bishop have said a word to me since we set foot inside the building. And even now, sitting in this elegant balcony overlooking an oval arena filled with sand, they seem to have forgotten that I’m even here. Beyond Draven’s single look of reprimand when Nio was taking our drink orders, neither of them have even glanced at me.
Instead, they’re talking to each other about the fights and the men who have been matched up, comparing stats and odds. From what I can tell, there’s a mind-boggling amount of money being wagered tonight. More than all the dancers make combined on the busiest nights at the Lucky Devils.
Despite the lack of their attention, I’m acutely aware of their presence. They’re like gravity, though, pulling me to them even when I try to resist. But I’m not the only one. I see the way people look at them, the weight of respect they command. It makes me realize that during my time with them so far, I’ve only felt a fraction of the power they hold.
Absent-mindedly, I trace the ribbon tied to my wrist again as I steal another look at Draven. Ever since we got into the car, he’s been silent and moody. It’s like there’s this wall between us now. I can’t help but think perhaps
I’ve done something to displease him—or maybe he’s simply assuming that I will.
Being shunned from his attention shouldn’t hurt, but it does.
It’s fucked up, given how near to madness he’s driven me, but I’ve grown to feel closer to him in this short time than anyone else I’ve known. I spent years with Bryan, and he knew the mess I was when we got together. Yet, he barely tolerates my brokenness, and only because he’s found ways to use it to his advantage, such as having me dance at his friend’s club.
But Draven… he doesn’t pity me, tolerate me, or exploit me.
At least, not so far. Instead, he simply draws my fears and weaknesses out of me until I’m completely exposed, and I have no choice but to look them in the eye. Literally, at times—as was the case last night. He seems to feed on every ounce of vulnerability he can pull from me. I must be a proverbial feast to him.
If nothing else, tonight has made it clear that I’m completely out of my element with these men. For days, all I’ve known is a few rooms inside their building. Draven’s office, the outdoor patio, the dining room where Bishop fed me breakfast, before he tasted the torture in my soul. And my own room. It’s simple but comfortable in its seclusion.
It’s been just enough for me to handle. A new world, for sure, but my taste of it so far has been a small slice, and that’s felt manageable.
But here… there is nothing that could have fully prepared me for this. It’s loud and absolutely packed with people, the noise so great, it’s buzzing along my skin as though I’m standing in the middle of a beehive.
I’ve only ever seen a world like this from a great distance. Like on television. The people here are clearly very wealthy, dressed as though they’re at a Hollywood premiere. Hell, even I’m decked out in a beautiful gown I could never afford in a million years. But these people, they’re also clearly involved in things that aren’t so legal.
For starters, it’s obvious this event isn’t sanctioned by any sporting league on Earth. There are no familiar banners of athletic associations, or logos of famous sponsors. And the fighting ring reminds me more of the large pit in the famous Roman Colosseum than a modern boxing ring or UFC cage. It looks as though any moment now, gladiators and lions might emerge from the side tunnels and battle it out.
Then there are the bodyguards who make no effort to hide their guns and the teams of private security who seem to be omnipresent everywhere I turn.
No, this is a venue for the criminal elite. Given what I know of Bryan’s debt to the Barons and the illegal deals he was involved with, it doesn’t surprise me, but it does scare me.
“Hiya.” A young woman steps into my line of sight, interrupting my thoughts with a friendly smile.
She looks about my age, but where I have feathered brown hair and a slim frame, she has curly ink-black locks and curves that are perfect for her retro style gown. There’s something about the warmth of her bright blue eyes and the slight gap of her front teeth that makes her seem instantly likeable. She gives off the aura of someone who probably doesn’t know how gorgeous she is—or, at least, hasn’t let it get to her head.
“I figured I’d come introduce myself,” she says as I take her in. “It’s nice to see a new face here.”
Still, I hesitate to respond. I promised to obey Draven tonight, and he hasn’t mentioned if I’m allowed to speak to anyone other than the three of them. She must sense my reluctance because she tips her chin and looks at Draven.
“Alpha Kildare,” she says, his title rolling off her tongue with a playful tone that’s laced with just enough respect to not sound sarcastic.
Draven turns to us, an eyebrow raised, his gaze shifting between her and I as though we’re up to no good.
“Do you mind if I steal a few moments of conversation?” the black-haired beauty asks, gesturing at me. “Goddess knows you haven’t let her out of your sight for a moment since none of us have seen her around the compound. She could probably use some female company.”
I stare at Draven, terrified that he’s going to snarl at her. He regards us with a cool stare though, the first time he’s looked at me all night it feels like.
“Fine. Jemma, you may converse with Emilia,” he tells me with a nod before boring his eyes into the mysterious woman in front of me. “But she’ll remain here, by my side—and you will not be a bad influence.”
“Understood, Alpha. I’ll try my best.” Her voice is sincere, but it’s clear she doesn’t take anything too seriously by the way she bats her eyelashes at Draven and gives him a cheeky grin.
I half-expect him to reprimand her for being insolent, but he only gives her a sharp warning look before he goes back to ignoring us. As soon as his attention is elsewhere, she practically skips over to the empty chair on the other side of me, the one Bishop occupied until a few moments ago, and plops down.
“I’m not really a troublemaker,” she explains, leaning toward me confidentially. “I just have a smart mouth that lands me in hot water a lot. But I’ll never change my ways.”
I break into a smile at her confession. “I like that.”
She thrusts her hand at me. “I’m Emilia, like Draven said. But you can call me Millie. Everyone does, except the Alphas. Well, and my mom. She hates my nickname.”
“I’m Jemma,” I tell her, clasping her hand with a friendly shake. She’s right—I really have missed talking to other women, even though for me that’s mostly meant quick chats backstage with the other dancers. But still, that was something.
“I know who you are,” she says, but there’s nothing catty about her tone. “Word travels fast through the Barons. I heard about you the first day you set foot inside headquarters. But I didn’t think I’d have to wait this long to meet you.”
Her eyes flicker to the far corner of the spacious balcony and I follow her gaze over my shoulder. There, clustered together like a gang of feral cats, stand the six women who approached us earlier. The tall blonde sneers at me when she sees me looking.
“Hey,” Emilia’s voice is soft but insistent, pulling my attention back to her.
My cheeks burn as I turn away from the group of women, knowing they’re talking about me. I doubt it’s anything nice. Emilia places a hand on my arm, and when I look at her, I see an understanding written on her face.
“Don’t pay them any attention,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “In fact, fuck ‘em. They’re just pissed because they want to be where you’re sitting. It has nothing to do with you, not really. Just the honor you’ve been given tonight.”
I scoff at that, but quickly take a sip of water to hide the full extent of my surprise. The liquid does little to ease my embarrassment. Damn, how I wish it was rum. I don’t know how many details about me have been shared, but they’ve got it all wrong. I’m a plaything, a possession—nothing more.
“If they only knew,” I tell Emilia in a low voice, trying to choke down my shame. “This is just temporary, and it’s not what they think. I’m not taking their place.”
“But see, they’ve never had a place,” she says bluntly, without a hint of judgement at my confession. “You think they’d be sitting next to Draven and the other guys if you weren’t here tonight? Nope. They’d be standing in the corner like they are now.”
“Oh.” I blink, surprised. I almost shoot another glance over my shoulder, wanting to size them up again with this new information, but I keep my gaze focused on Emilia instead.
“It doesn’t matter to them why you’re sitting beside Draven,” she continues, her tone candid. “Half of them would kill the others to get here, and the other half would sell their own mothers into slavery.”
“What… what about you?” I ask, studying her face as I pose the question.
I really like Emilia so far—everything I’ve picked up about her tells me she’s a good person. But I’ve learned not to believe everything my eyes and ears tell me. That doesn’t always indicate what someone’s true motives are. Is she befriending me as a way to ge
t more access to the guys?
“Me? Oh no, they’re not my type,” Emilia laughs, shaking her head. The reaction doesn’t seem forced or fake, and my nerves settle a little.
“No?” I tip my head at her response, both genuinely curious and guardedly skeptical.
She straightens up, glancing down into the wide space of the arena, as though searching for something before turning back to me with a goofy smile. “I mean, maybe at one point I might have had a thing for Kade. But then again, who hasn’t?”
I purse my lips and raise my index finger with a smile. “Guilty.”
“Right?” She nods with a laugh, then her expression settles into a pensive look. “But shit happens in life that changes you. Not just what you’re into but like… it changes what matters the most, you know? Where you put your attention.”
The way she says it, I know there’s a deep scar behind those words—something I can relate to all too well. “Yes, I do know,” I agree softly, giving her a small, kind smile.
Without a word, her palm slips into mine and she squeezes my hand. Before either of us can say anything else, the blaring rock music that has been nearly drowning out our conversation suddenly stops.
Emilia’s hand slides away as she leans forward, looking over the balcony. I follow suit, scanning the fighting ring with curiosity. A hush spreads across the entire crowd and everyone is sitting up straighter now, training their gaze to a small cluster of people near the entrance tunnel of the arena.
“Looks like the fights are about to start, so I should go,” Emilia says, standing up and smoothing her dress down. She pauses before she turns away and puts a hand on my arm. “If you’re allowed to have guests, I’d love to hang out. I’ve got a feeling that we have a lot in common, and I don’t know about you, but I could use another friend.”
She scampers away without waiting for a reply, but her words leave my heart fluttering.