ready?”
Just then, an intercom clicked on and a British woman began speaking. “The blond fighter is a fourteen-time champion with no losses. The raven-haired woman is an experienced street fighter. This is her first performance. For those interested in placing bets, please do so now. Push the green button when you’re ready.” Her accent was more refined and polished than Flynn’s.
Oh shit. This was the real deal, and I was about to indulge someone’s fetish.
When a current of energy rippled through the room, my hair stood on end. It wasn’t coming from the woman but the watchers behind the glass.
The blonde flashed to the other side, warming up. I bent over and touched my feet to do a little stretch.
This is ridiculous. I’ve never warmed up for a street fight in my life. Not unless tequila shots count.
I backed up against a wall while this amateur proceeded to waste her energy prancing around. Maybe it was my impassive stare, or maybe it was the fact I wasn’t as hyped up as she was, but the woman slid an apprehensive look my way. This fight was crucial. I had to make sure my fangs didn’t accidentally punch out. Were we allowed to use our Mage gifts? Not the basic stuff, but our rare gifts. The only rule Pablo had given me was no killing. That meant everything else was fair game.
With that, a sinister smile crossed my face.
The microphone clicked on. “Ladies, begin.”
With lightning speed, Blondie flashed over and punched me in the face.
Holding my eye, I looked up as she flashed off. “So that’s how it’s gonna be? Hit and run? That’s not fighting.”
When she came at me a second time, I ducked and threw out my leg to trip her. She smacked into the wall and left a streak of blood where she crumpled to the floor. As I moved toward her, she struck me in the femur with her steel-toed boot.
“Son of a—” I grimaced and looked at my leg to see if a bone was sticking out. Much to my relief, the kick had only broken my skin but nothing else.
Blondie crawled away and then scrambled to her feet.
I loved confined spaces. No escape, no surprises, and…
The wall between two windows opened up like a drawer, and Blondie flashed over and pulled out a dagger.
What was I saying about surprises?
As the rectangular drawer shut, I realized that either the house or the players were in control, and we were nothing but chips on the table.
She gripped the dagger in her left hand and held it above her head.
Amateur.
When Blondie flashed toward me and drove down the knife, I throat-punched her. The blade sank into my shoulder and cut bone, but I was willing to take the hit. She reached for her throat, gasping and coughing. I punched her in the face again and again like a boxer going for the win. Blood sprayed across one of the mirrored windows like raindrops. The knife fell from her grip and skittered across the floor when she accidentally kicked it while stumbling backward.
Blondie fell to all fours, retching and gasping for breath.
I reached down and scooped up the dagger, my palm welcoming the handle like an old friend. “Hello, darling.”
As I straightened my back, I glimpsed her in the mirror, moving like a bullet. A punch to the kidney brought me to my knees. The pain radiated through my insides like a sharp sword burying itself deep. The second blow came from her steel-toed boot, and when it hit the same spot, I bellowed in pain.
I rolled to my side and stared at the floor in disbelief. I’d taken a lot of blows in training, but never to the kidney. Nausea swept over me, but I pushed it down and went into survival mode. All the mirrors gave me flashbacks to the days when I fought for my life in bar bathrooms. I had taken all my victims by surprise, but this was no sneak attack, and I finally had an equal who wanted to win just as much as I did.
I caught her movement in the mirrors, and before she could kick me again, I rolled out of reach.
With the knife gripped in my hand—the way you’re supposed to hold a knife in a fight—I used the wall to steady myself and rose to face her. “Now you’ve pissed me off,” I grumbled.
Her face reddened as she continued coughing, but she wasn’t giving up.
In the many reflections, I noticed