by Noir, Roxie
Dane opened the door and went down the stairs. Tobias was in his usual place at the bottom of the store, and raised his eyebrows at Dane as he ran down the stairs.
“You again?” Tobias asked, good-naturedly.
“Personal business this time,” Dane said. “You need to frisk me?”
He held his arms up cooperatively.
“You’re good,” Tobias answered, not bothering. “Isaac’s fighting tonight, right?”
Dane felt a brief thrill of irritation run through him.
Did everyone know except me? He thought, immediately shaking it off.
“Yeah,” Dane said. “Am I in time?”
“I think the first fight just finished,” said Tobias. “He’s headlining, you know.”
“Thanks,” said Dane, and strode for the door to the fighting pits, past the empty poker table. Two more huge, burly bear shifters stood by the second door, but they just nodded at Dane without speaking.
The sub-basement radiated with body heat from the crowd, and all the smells hit Dane smack in the face, taking him straight back to his own fighting days: sweaty fur and blood and dirt, human perspiration and excitement, spilled beer. Right away his stomach leapt into his chest and his heart pounded.
You’re not fighting, he had to remind himself. Just Isaac, and he’ll be fine, because he’s always fine and you don’t need to worry about him. Right?
Dane practically ran down the steps and elbowed his way through the crowd, shoving his way toward the front.
There was no one in the ring, though he could see the divots and gashes in the sand that the last fight had left, complete with a small spray of blood, quickly darkening as it sunk into the sand.
I made it in time, he thought. He rested his hands on a rail, finally looking around the room.
A few people gave him weird looks, but he recognized most of them. They were either people who’d been in the wolf fights with him, or people who knew he was a police officer.
Dane shrugged to himself. At the moment, he didn’t particularly give a shit about what other people thought — he just wanted to see Isaac make it out okay, one last time.
As his eyes drifted over the crowd, his gaze slipped past a short, curvy girl wearing jeans and a red shirt on the other side of the fighting pit, talking animatedly with Pete.
Dane’s spine straightened and he frowned.
It was Grey. He stood up straight and made for the other side, pushing people out of his way and quickly coming abreast with the girl and Pete.
“Hi there,” he said, hovering one hand protectively over Grey’s back.
“We were just talking odds,” Pete said, with a smile that showed too many teeth.
Dane raised his eyebrows.
“Speculatively, of course,” he said. “I’m sure no money is changing hands,” Dane went on.
“None at all, Officer,” said Pete, flashing that same hollow smile.
“We should go get our spots around the other side,” Grey said, a little too quickly and loudly. “Let Pete talk to someone who might actually make him some money.”
Then she blushed, quickly, looking at Pete and then at Dane.
“Not that he’s doing anything like gambling,” she said, sounding flustered.
Pete just laughed.
“Not me,” he said. Then he shot a quick glare at Dane.
“Enjoy the fight,” he said, and turned away.
“Thanks,” said Grey, turning toward Dane. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I wanted to come see Isaac, but then Pete saw me and waved me over and he started talking about bets, and I just...”
She blinked.
“You showed up just in time,” she said, trying to sound sunny. “Let’s go watch the fight.”
Dane felt that sinking feeling in his stomach again.
This is why you came here, he reminded himself. To see Isaac, and be supportive, even if you’re pissed.
They made their way back to where Dane had been standing. Across the ring he could see Pete, doing business and staring at the two of them, but he didn’t care anymore. Grey held onto his hand tightly as Dane shouldered people aside, practically growling at anyone in their way until the two of them were right in the middle, prime, front-row seats.
Grey didn’t let go of his hand, even when they were standing there, and it made Dane feel better, anchored somehow.
“Isaac’s next,” she said, almost needing to shout over the din.
Dane just nodded and squeezed her hand, and the lights over the crowd dimmed.
The floodlights on the pit clicked on, brighter than daylight.
“Now for our headlining fight,” said an announcer over the PA system. Dane looked around for the man, finally finding him standing next to one of the wolf pens, a skinny guy with cowboy boots and a Stetson.
“All the way from Las Vegas, Nevada, three-time Western States champion, Emmanuel Colson!”
A spotlight shone into the wolf pen where Emmanuel stood, growling, and the wolf let out a long, blood-chilling howl as the crowd cheered.
“And from right here in Rustvale, Cascadia, in his final fight of his career, five-time Cascadian All-Around Winner, two-time Western States champ, and national runner-up, Isaac Yates!”
Isaac didn’t make a noise, or growl, or even acknowledge the crowd. Instead he paced inside his wolf pen, utterly focused on the match ahead.
Dane squeezed Grey’s hand and she squeezed back, his heart thundering in his chest.
Chapter Twelve
Isaac
A couple of minutes before the match, Isaac paced back and forth. It had been a long time since his last match, and he couldn’t quite remember what he’d done just before matches, what his good luck charms had been. He no longer had a routine.
Drink some water and shake it out, he thought. Jump up and down, limber up.
Get a kiss from Dane.
Not having that hurt the most, but Isaac knew that he was the one who’d fucked up. He shouldn’t be here, fighting again, and most of all he shouldn’t have lied to his mate.
If he was forgiven, he’d be the luckiest wolf in Cascadia, and he knew it.
As he was jumping and pacing, nervously glancing around the crowd, Pete walked over and pointed at him.
“Three minutes,” the older man said.
Isaac nodded. He knew what that meant.
He hopped into the waiting pit, a hole the size of a deep hot tub dug from the earthen floor of the sub-basement. Quickly, he disrobed completely and tossed his clothes back up to Pete, who took them to the makeshift locker room — a folding table and a couple of chairs behind strung-up sheets.
Then he shifted, finally letting the wolf inside him take over. The smells intensified, sounds grew louder and more articulated, and he got shorter. Wolf-Isaac felt every vibration in the earthen floor of the sub-basement: people walking above, stomping around, someone running.
The other wolf, past two thick wooden gates, pacing around in his own pen, waiting for the fight. Isaac turned in a circle, a weird wolf thing that always calmed his brain and made him feel better. Whenever he was in wolf form, he was vaguely aware that he acted just a little like a dog, but he couldn’t help it.
The house lights went down and the pit lights came on with a click, the bright white light washing over the sand in the pit, illuminating every single grain.
Adrenaline and nerves coursed through Isaac’s body so hard that he trembled, pacing back and forth just behind the gate. The announcer’s voice boomed, announcing the other wolf’s name and his titles.
Step step step step turn. Step step step step turn.
Then the announcer said his name, and Isaac’s heart expanded into his entire chest, loud as a kettle drum. Any minute now, the gates would swing open, and then it was a minute or maybe two of teeth and fur and claws, with little more than pure instinct to guide him.
The announcer went quiet, building the moment of anticipation for the fight to begin. One last time, Isaac gl
anced through the wooden slats at the crowd standing above the pit.
He could just barely make out Dane, and standing next to him, Grey.
He came, Isaac thought.
Then the gates swung open and he trotted into the pit.
The other wolf was someone he’d never fought before, but he was huge and brown, bigger than Isaac, bigger than most of the other wolves Isaac had ever fought.
Slower, then, thought Isaac’s wolf brain, and without waiting for another moment he charged the other wolf, feinting to the left and dodging to the right at the last moment. He nipped one of his foe’s legs before running past.
He was right: the other wolf was slow, not swinging his head toward Isaac’s feint until long after the smaller, faster wolf had sailed past. He turned around, baring his teeth in a growl.
Isaac never bothered with that sort of posturing. Wasted energy. Instead, he trotted in a circle around the other wolf while it snarled and snapped, always one move behind Isaac.
For a little while, Isaac darted toward the other wolf and back, snapping and feinting, never letting the other guy actually get close. Whenever Isaac fought, he felt like time slowed down, but it wasn’t more than thirty seconds he did this, getting bits of bloody fur between his teeth but not doing any real damage.
Then the other wolf got him, swinging his head around just in time. Sharp teeth raked across Isaac’s shoulder, sinking in past his thick skin and thicker fur, opening a deep gash from the base of his neck to the top of his left front leg.
He could hear the crowd gasp — he thought he could hear Grey especially — but he blocked it out, retreating to the other side of the ring. He knew he was leaving a trail of blood behind him, but the adrenaline blocked the pain as he paced there, baring his teeth just a little at the other wolf.
Sometimes, instinct took over and he couldn’t help it.
The other wolf came closer and closer, and suddenly, Isaac realized that he was being cornered. Just as the other wolf lunged, he sprang out, just barely getting past those teeth. He circled back, going for the wolf’s shoulder on the opposite side, counting on his speed to save him.
His teeth barely grazed the other wolf’s skin when the wolf rolled, whipping Isaac’s head around, lethal teeth sinking into the flesh around Isaac’s ribcage. Off balance, Isaac yelped and fell over, panic flooding his body as he lay on his back, bleeding side exposed.
“ISAAC!” screamed a girl, probably Grey, and if he’d been human, Isaac would have smiled.
The other wolf came on again, charging Isaac from a low angle, ignoring best practices in favor of getting in another quick hit and ending the fight, but Isaac held his breath.
Wait, he thought, his nerves on a hair trigger. Wait.
The other wolf was in his face, then his breath was in Isaac’s nose, his teeth just closing around Isaac’s muzzle.
Then Isaac sprang, both of his powerful back legs catching the other wolf right in the chest, catapulting him backwards into the dirt wall with a solid thud.
Bleeding from his shoulder and ribcage, Isaac was on his feet again before the other wolf could even blink. He came up behind him, locking his teeth around the back of the enemy’s neck, growling the whole time, pure, primal wolf energy flooding through his body.
This is why I fight, thought Isaac. The other wolf struggled, but Isaac held on, his teeth sinking deeper and deeper.
Somewhere above, he heard a human counting. When they got to seven, the bigger wolf went crazy, thrashing and trying to free himself, but Isaac hung on until ten.
Then there was a horn sounding somewhere above, and he let go at last. The other wolf took one deep breath, heaved itself up, and shook his fur out. He looked briefly at the crowd, and then trotted to the back of the ring.
The match was over. Isaac had won.
Above him, he heard cheering and shouting, the smell of hard liquor sloshing around, but he didn’t care about any of that. He was busy searching the crowd until he found what he was looking for.
Dane and Grey, in the front row. Grey flushed bright red, jumping up and down, clapping her hands together like an excited, relieved kid. Dane was next to her, looking like a man who’d been put through the wringer.
As Isaac watched, Grey jumped onto Dane with a giant hug, and Dane spun her around in a circle, both of them laughing in pure, relieved glee.
Isaac wagged his tail, his tongue rolling out of his mouth.
Sometimes, he couldn’t help it.
Chapter Thirteen
Grey
By the time the fight was over, Grey’s hands were shaking, even as she hugged Dane and he spun her in a giant circle. Not many things made her feel tiny, but his grasp did, and even as they celebrated Isaac’s win, she felt the heat rising through her body, the urge to wrap her legs around his frame.
He put her down instead, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. In the ring, Isaac stared up at them, wagging his tail.
Grey waved, grinning.
“I’ll take you backstage,” Dane shouted into her ear. He led her by the hand through the crushing throng, shoving his way through anyone who wouldn’t move, not letting go of her, even for a moment. Finally, they got through the crowd to the other side of the pits, where Dane nodded at Pete, and pushed aside a white sheet that hung from the ceiling.
Isaac sat in a folding chair, wearing just gym shorts, blood leaking slowly from a gash on his shoulder and puncture wounds on his chest.
Grey gasped. It wasn’t just his wounds; Isaac’s torso was crisscrossed with scars, some long and thick, some short, some in the obvious pattern of wolf teeth or claws. The scars ran over his muscled, rugged frame like a street map.
A map to a place where Grey really wanted to go.
The moment they were in the makeshift tent, Isaac jumped up and walked straight for Dane.
“Dane, I—”
Dane grabbed Isaac’s face in both hands and kissed the other man so hard that Grey thought they might fall over, pressing their bodies together, Isaac’s blood seeping into Dane’s pale blue button-down shirt.
Grey could only watch in a kind of hungry fascination, her eyes going wide as saucers. She’d never seen anything like it before. The pure, raw need in front of her. Its power astonished her.
She also really, really liked it, with a feeling that went beyond liking or even lust. She wanted to join in — no, she needed it, and she held her breath, just watching.
As they kissed, Isaac reached out and grabbed Grey’s shoulder, squeezing it and bringing her in a little closer. Then they broke apart, both chests heaving for breath.
Isaac leaned down and kissed her as well. For a split second, Grey didn’t know what to do, but then her body took over and she took Isaac’s face between her hands, letting him draw her in, pressing her whole body against him as he opened his mouth, his tongue invading her. Grey pushed back, sliding her hands down Isaac’s neck before he let her go.
Then Dane was there as well, his lips on Grey’s now, gentler and less frantic, his hand slowly sliding through her hair.
She felt like she might simply melt on the spot.
They parted as well, Grey left standing in the middle of the two men, her heart pounding through her whole body. Dane had Isaac’s blood all over himself, on his hands and shirt, and he looked down.
“Sorry,” Isaac said, with a wicked half-smile.
Dane shrugged, and reached around Grey to pull Isaac against them, with Grey trapped in the middle.
She didn’t mind.
“I can get a new shirt,” Dane said.
Grey bit her lip as Dane said something else, but she wasn’t really paying attention to what he said. His entire body pressed up against her back, distracting her from his words. She felt his desire pressing against her, intent and hot and her mouth went dry.
Desire like liquid heat swept through Grey’s body, nearly making her dizzy.
“What about you?” Isaac growled, leaning down so that he was nearly nose-to
-nose with her. “I wouldn’t want to get that dress bloody. Maybe we should get it off you.”
Grey swallowed.
“It is my very favorite dress,” she whispered, tilting her face up as Isaac pressed his hips against hers, his erection throbbing against her stomach.
She wanted to scream, I don’t care about the dress, just lift it up and take me, but she managed to maintain the barest hint of decorum.
Isaac pressed his lips to hers once more, his tongue plundering her mouth and she dueled it with her own.
As they parted, the sheets that formed the makeshift locker room swept open, revealing a tall, heavily muscled shifter with long sideburns and scar over one cheek. The three of them, caught in the throes of passion, looked up guiltily.
“Sorry,” said the guy, as he advanced a few steps into the space. “Just need my stuff so I can leave. Good match, by the way.”
Isaac swallowed, then wiped the palm of his hand against his gym shorts and held it out to the other guy. Grey thought she could detect a blush creeping up his rugged face, though she couldn’t be sure in the low light.
“You too,” Isaac said.
They shook hands, then the other wolf grabbed a duffel bag and left.
“Come home with us,” Dane said. It was obvious they couldn’t stay there, and Grey in particular had no desire to risk half the wolf population of Rustvale seeing her naked.
She just nodded, still breathing hard.
In moments, the three of them practically ran up the steps and to the door at the top of the stairs.
“Isaac!” someone yelled from down below.
Isaac half-waved, then disappeared.
They charged past Tobias, Grey giving him a half wave on the way out, then past the clerk and to Dane’s waiting police car.
Isaac didn’t wait, just grabbed Grey’s hand and charged into the backseat, not really caring about the mesh partition that separated them from the driver.