by Lynn Lorenz
“Guess there’s nothing left to do here.” Stoltz frowned and stood. “Let’s go.”
They walked through the complex, out the doors and down halls. Rode the elevator and came to Ash’s quarters without speaking another word to each other.
Something was wrong. Ash felt it in his bones. Somehow he’d hurt, maybe angered Stoltz, but he had no idea what he’d done. The sparring match had gone well.
Or had it?
“Master, did you get many contracts tonight?” he dared to ask.
Stoltz came to a halt outside his room. “A few. Enough to get me started. You did well tonight, Ashland.”
Ash smiled. “Thank you, Master. I had hoped I could help you.”
“You did.” He unlocked the door, opened it, and stepped aside.
“You’re not coming in?”
“No.”
“Oh. Okay. Do we have a match again tomorrow?” He entered the room.
“Yes. Every day this week. With Leif. I’ll come by for you at the same time.”
His master closed the door.
“I’ll be here,” Ash replied.
»»•««
Every day for the next two weeks, Ash followed his master to the training level and worked in the cages. He never shifted, but he and Leif worked hard to hone his fighting skills.
Leif proved to be a good teacher, working just as hard as Ash to battle it out, and Ash, although often battered and bruised, appreciated it. Leif also introduced him to some of the other fighters at the cages, in the locker room or wherever. Everyone joked with one another good-naturedly, and Ash felt a growing sense of fellowship with the other sparring partners.
He even met some of the real fighters, defenders and challengers, those who had hired Stoltz to provide him as a sparring partner. Sure, he got his ass kicked, but he always gave them a good run for their money.
One in particular he liked, a defender named Tor. The man had sex written all over him, and if anyone could make him forget about his love for Stoltz, it would be the blond Norseman. They fought a few times, Ash trying to take Tor’s mate, Jin, from him. Jin was smaller, a sex slave of almost feminine beauty, and he controlled Tor as if they were the same creature.
Now that Ash had seen what being mated meant, he longed for the same thing for himself. But as a sparring partner, he’d never have the chance to pair bond with anyone, and especially not with his master.
Time went by and still something lay between his master and him, but he didn’t know what, and it bothered him. He couldn’t be happy about his wins without knowing Stoltz was happy also. It didn’t take opening himself up to the vibrations coming off his master or the look on his master’s face to know he wasn’t happy.
Each time the sparring finished, Stoltz sent Ash to the locker room. But unlike the first time, Ash always chose a female to massage him and told her up front he wasn’t interested in a “massage and more.”
And each time he came out, Stoltz wore the saddest expression on his face.
It perplexed Ash to no end, and he was powerless to fix it.
But he thought hard about it. If he didn’t know what the problem was, he couldn’t fix it. So he decided to ask.
Ash thought of a plan. The next time Stoltz came to his room, he wouldn’t be ready. Then his master would have to come inside. And then they could talk, and Ash would get this cleared up and Stoltz would smile again.
»»•««
Stoltz arrived at Ashland’s door. He exhaled and rang the bell. For almost a month, he’d done the same thing, taken Ashland down to the cages to spar with one of his new clients or with one of Murphy’s men, and then let him go for a massage. With that slave boy.
It soured everything in Stoltz’s life. No win could lift his spirits. No amount of beer made him forget the image of Ashland being sucked off. And time didn’t seem to heal his wounds either.
His anger grew each day. Anger at himself, not Ash. He’d fallen into this trap all on his own. He’d known the first time he’d seen Ash, buying him might be a mistake.
He rang the bell again.
Ashland didn’t answer. No voice called out to him.
Stoltz frowned. It wasn’t like Ashland to be late. He never overslept.
What if something was wrong? If Ashland had been hurt?
He punched in the code on the entry pad, yanked open the door, and rushed inside.
Ashland lay on the couch, eyes closed, naked, with only his collar on.
“Ash!” His heart pounding, Stoltz kneeled next to the couch and took Ashland’s hand. “What’s wrong?”
Ashland blinked and opened his eyes. “Is it time to go, Master?”
“Yes. What’s wrong?” He searched the beautiful body stretched out in front of him for some sign of injury or illness.
Ashland sat up. “Nothing, Master. What’s wrong with you? I can sense it.”
Stoltz’s mouth fell open. What the hell? “Me? I rang the bell, and you didn’t answer. I thought you were ill or hurt.”
Ashland shrugged. “I’m fine. What’s wrong with you?” he asked again.
Stoltz sat back on his heels. “What are you talking about?” He narrowed his eyes at his slave.
“You’re so unhappy. I can see it. I can feel it.” Ashland reached for his arm.
Stoltz jerked away, ran his hand over his face, and stood. “Nothing.”
“It can’t be nothing!” Ashland cried. He bolted to his feet, a good head taller than Stoltz. “You’ve been upset for weeks. Did I do something wrong, Master?”
His distress was so plain Stoltz’s heart melted. Ashland had no idea what Stoltz had witnessed or how only one act had torn open his heart. Confusion, fear, and concern pained Ashland’s handsome features.
All Stoltz wanted in that moment was to hold Ashland in his arms, assure him, kiss him, and do to him what that slave had done, only better.
But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.
“I won’t leave this room until you tell me what I did, Master.” Ash crossed his arms and planted his feet. “The security guards will have to stun me first.” His gaze pinned Stoltz, and Stoltz knew he had no choice but to explain his actions.
“Look.” He took a deep breath and sat on the couch. “That first time you sparred with Leif. Remember?”
Ashland nodded.
“Well, after I talked to some people, I went looking for you in the locker room.”
“Okay.”
“I saw you, Ashland.”
“Saw me?” His brow furrowed. “In the locker room? I don’t remember seeing you.”
“You didn’t. Not in the locker room. I saw you in the massage room. With that slave.”
“Getting a massage?” Ashland’s mouth fell open, and his eyes grew wide. “Oh! You saw us? You saw him and me and…” he sputtered.
“Yes. He was giving you a blowjob.” Stoltz ran his hand through his hair. He shouldn’t be embarrassed by this, but he’d just confessed to spying on his werewolf.
“Goddess!” Ashland fell to his knees, then stretched out on the floor at Stoltz’s feet. “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t know it wasn’t allowed. The slave said everyone did it. I swear I didn’t know.” The tremor in his voice nearly undid Stoltz.
“It’s not that. I know it’s only your animal nature. To want sex. And the slave offered. You just took what you needed. I shouldn’t be angry, but…” He swore. “Get up. I told you never to do that to me, didn’t I?”
Ashland got to his knees. “Yes, Master. I did let him blow me. But only that one time.”
“What?” Stoltz stared at his slave. “You’ve been to the locker rooms every time you fight.”
“Just for a massage. I get the little redheaded girl to do it.” He shrugged. “I don’t like girls. They don’t excite me.”
“They don’t?” Stoltz couldn’t stop the smile on his face.
Ashland picked it up and smiled back. “No. I like men, Master. I thought you knew that.”
“I knew it when I saw you with the slave boy.”
“He was nice to me. You won’t get him in trouble, will you?”
“Of course not. It was between slave and slave. No pressure. No force. Right?” Stoltz motioned for him to rise.
“Yes. It was…nice.” He got to his feet.
“Just nice?” What did Stoltz really want to hear?
“Not as nice as it could have been.” Ashland blushed, the red spreading to the tips of his ears. “With someone special.”
Stoltz almost asked who, eager to find out if some other werewolf had captured Ashland’s desire, but he didn’t want to go down that path. They were late, and they only had two hours in the cages.
“Can we go now?” he asked.
“Are you still mad at me, Master?” Ashland put his hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows.
“No. Never should have been. Get your towel wrap and sandals.” Stoltz went to the door and opened it. “We’ll be late, and I’m paying for that time. If we miss out on a contract, I will be pissed.”
Ashland nodded, grabbed his wrap, shoved his feet into his sandals, and rushed to Stoltz’s side.
Stoltz thought he’d hidden his pain from Ashland, but it had seeped out as anger. Maybe the werewolf could feel him? Maybe today was the day he needed to work on shifting with Ashland.
Chapter Twelve
For over a month, Stoltz and Ashland had been strengthening their mental connection. At first, it was just Stoltz telling Ashland to shift or unshift, but it progressed to how to fight, when to lunge, duck, roll, attack, and retreat. And they’d become good. The link between them grew easier to connect to each time.
Stoltz worried about why their connection was so strong. Although he knew owners and werewolves occasionally made the bond needed to control the wolf, he’d never thought he’d be one of them.
But as they worked together, he started taking it for granted, or rather, pushed the questions of what it might mean from his mind. That this bond might be more than just owner to slave, something far more personal. Far more emotional.
And Stoltz didn’t want to think about that, because it was hard enough to keep his thoughts about Ash under control. And he didn’t want to think about what it meant about his desire for the handsome man. Handsome slave. Who he owned.
He had to always keep that in mind. Ash wasn’t free to choose.
Now they stood next to the cage, waiting to face their next training assignment.
“Tor and Jin are a tough combo to beat. They’re heavyweight champions in the cage three years running. No one has bested them.” Stoltz had his hand on Ashland’s shoulder as he leaned forward and spoke. “You’ve worked with them enough to know how good they are together. Most of that is Tor is just that fucking good, but some of it is because Jin can control Tor’s wolf.”
Ashland nodded. “I want to shift. I can handle him.” His gaze darted to the two fighters standing by the cage.
“I know you do. And today we’re going to put into action what we’ve been practicing, right?”
Ashland growled. “Tell me when to shift and then guide me. I can do it, Master.”
“Let me clear it with Tor’s owner, Marrack. He has to approve it.” Stoltz walked over to where the owner and his fighter stood waiting.
“I’d like to have Ashland shift and do some wolf action. What do you think?”
Marrack looked past Stoltz’s shoulder. “Sure. They seem to do well together. But do you have control of him? I don’t want Tor ripped up. I can’t spare the time and expense if it takes more than a shift to heal him.”
“Sure. We’re tight. But they both need work while shifted.”
“Agreed.” Marrack turned to his slaves. “Tor. Jin. This time, let’s do it. It’ll be good for you both and for Ashland.” Stoltz kept his face straight, even though it pissed him off how Marrack acted as if it was his idea.
“Fine.” Tor nodded, then called out to Ashland, “Get ready, wolf. I’m going to kick your ass.”
Ashland laughed. “Like to see you try. Going to kick yours too.”
Jin grinned. “Now, boys. Save it for the cage.” He hung on Tor’s arm and kissed his cheek.
Tor grabbed his mate’s bare ass and pulled him even closer, then took his mouth with a deep, hungry kiss. Stoltz’s cock came to life, threatening to embarrass him.
Working around werewolves had hardened Stoltz to their overt sexuality, but Tor and Jin were a deeply sexual pair, and at times, they’d set off everyone around them—the werewolves through their scents, and the humans just because Tor and Jin were hot together.
“Get in the cage!” Marrack shouted. His face seemed to be in a perpetual scowl.
Stoltz didn’t like him. At all. There was something off about him, and Stoltz didn’t trust the other owner. He kept his fighters well; Stoltz had never seen any signs of his slaves being beaten or of Marrack coming between them. Who’d be stupid enough to fuck up a winning combination like Tor and Jin? But the man was just…slimy. Stoltz doubted he had the morals of a pig.
The three fighters hurried to the cage, continued up the stairs, and went to their places.
Defender across from challenger. Mate behind defender. All of them naked.
Ashland stood alone. Tor and Jin worked together. There was an advantage to the pair, but Stoltz had seen some of the best pairs beaten, the mate taken by a challenger. It was what kept the entire fight game going—the chance you’d strip a mate from a defender, rise in the ranks and in value, and send a competitor back down to start over again.
Jin would stay in the corner, out of reach, for his own safety, to watch the fight and to control his wolf. Jin wasn’t a werewolf. Mates never were; they were usually sex slaves chosen for and raised to handle the big werewolves.
And from what Stoltz had seen, Jin could handle Tor. Didn’t hurt that they were so fucking in love. So evident it hurt Stoltz to see what they had between them and know he’d never have that with his werewolf.
Because he could see the way Ashland looked at the pair every time they sparred, and the hunger for love showed in his eyes. For being connected to someone. Who didn’t crave that, human or werewolf?
After Ash had told him about what happened in the locker room, they’d had a talk.
Stoltz would turn a blind eye to Ashland’s sexual needs and didn’t care how he met those needs. If he needed to fuck the masseur or get sucked off, he had permission. Stoltz just didn’t want to know about it, and he’d told Ashland such. Ashland had remained stoic through the talk, just nodded, and said, “Yes, Master.”
Stoltz had no idea what his slave did, but he knew what he did to relieve his needs. He’d done what Murphy had told him to do—go somewhere else. He’d called a fuck buddy.
Fucking a buddy wasn’t the same as making love. It got his rocks off but did nothing to fill the growing hole in his heart. He’d done it once or twice, but he left feeling guilty, as if he was cheating on Ash, and that was just fucked. Most of the time, he used his own hand and his memory of Ashland on that table, ecstasy on his face, his big red dick straight and hard and throbbing.
Marrack rang the bell, jerking Stoltz out of his thoughts and back to business.
The sparring began, and the men moved around the cage, judging and testing each other. When one of them found an opening, they’d try a few kicks or punches, still testing the waters, so this was expected. Stoltz knew enough to let them do what they did best.
At last, they went at each other in a flurry of kicks, punches, and body slams. They used a mix of judo, wrestling, karate, and boxing, and the action was fast paced and often brutal. Both of them were bleeding from scrapes, cuts, and split lips, and the first round wasn’t over.
Werewolves healed when they changed, so most of the injuries could be shifted off. But serious ones, like internal organ damage, couldn’t be healed that way. They required doctors, operations, and health care. Smart owners carried insurance for those sorts of injuries, beca
use they could bankrupt you.
Good health care was expensive because werewolves were slaves, and slaves didn’t have access to the free care provided by the city. Some doctors refused to treat slaves. If a slave got sick, and his owner didn’t pay for or couldn’t afford a doctor, the slave usually died. And only a handful of doctors who specialized in werewolves were available, and they didn’t come cheap.
At least the training facility had a small clinic for the occasional minor injury, concussion, or stitches, for a low fee, subsidized by the league. Major injuries, those unable to heal with a shift, took insurance and a non-league hospital.
So for Marrack to risk his werewolf in the cage on an untested challenger like Ashland took a lot of confidence in both Stoltz and his werewolf.
Stoltz was relieved he’d kept up with all the insurance premiums on Ashland, because anything could happen in the cage.
The bell rang, and the fighters went to their corners. Each swigged from the water bottles waiting for them, and Jin and Tor conferred.
Stoltz stood outside the cage. “You’re doing well. Keep him moving; it’ll wear him out. You’ve got more stamina than he does.”
“Yeah. I’m not having all the sex he does.” Ash snorted, and Stoltz had to grin.
The bell rang, and they headed back to the center of the cage. This time it didn’t take long for the action to start. The men dropped any pretense of caution and attacked each other with enthusiasm, even egging each other on. Werewolves were born to fight, and they loved it.
Tor took Ashland to the floor in a body slam, then placed him in a submission hold just as the bell rang to signal the end of the round. Usually, they went five rounds to get a good workout. Today they’d cut it to three, because it took a lot out of the fighters to shift.
Tor laughed and let Ashland go. Ashland sat up and slapped Tor on the ass. The big blond werewolf held out a hand and jerked Ashland upright. For a moment, they stood face-to-face. Tor curled his upper lip and growled. Stoltz’s grip on the cage tightened.
Then Ashland leaned forward and licked Tor’s cheek. “Tastes good.”
Jin giggled. “Not as good as his cum.” He stepped out of the corner and wrapped his hand around Tor’s bicep. Stoltz couldn’t tell if it was just affection or control.