Dragon's Fake Wedding Date - Riley Storm Page 0,33

probably going to be some fireworks today. The bastard.”

They were referring to Rann’s opponent in his next match. Prax had easily defeated his foe and moved on, meaning a second-round meeting between the two had become inevitable. Everyone knew about the bad blood between them, and now it was going to finally come to a head.

“So why don’t you look focused on beating his smug ass?” Trent asked, crouching down on his thick legs until he was at eye-height with Rann.

Rann sighed. “She hasn’t answered my texts.”

“What?” Trent blinked, swaying back at the unexpected answer. “What are you talking about? I mean the fight, Rann. What about it?”

“It’s been over a day now, and I haven’t heard from her,” he went on, as if Trent hadn’t spoken a word. “I’ve sent her some texts. I even called her once. She won’t answer. I don’t want to be a pest or that guy who can’t take no for an answer, but…”

Trent snorted. “Have you ever been told ‘no’ by a woman you wanted before?”

Rann rolled his eyes. ‘Of course.”

Trent waited.

“Once.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Trent said, shaking his head and rising from his crouch. “So you found one that isn’t interested in you. It’s not the end of the world. You’ll find someone else.”

Rann surged to his feet and closed the distance, rage burning through him. “What if I don’t want anyone else?” he snarled, incensed by the suggestion that Gayle didn’t matter to him.

Trent bared his teeth. “Back off,” he growled. “Before I make you.”

The two shifters stared each other down for a double-handful of seconds before Rann pulled his gaze away and relaxed.

“Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his long hair. “I’m not sure why I got so mad at you.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I said something dumb,” Trent replied.

They glanced at one another then nodded and that was that. They moved on.

“You need to get your head in the game for the fight today, Rann,” Trent said.

“I know. But we’re supposed to go out tonight. Then after yesterday, I don’t know. I…I don’t want to let go of her Trent. What the hell does that mean?”

Trent smiled. “It means you actually can care for someone,” he said. “Shocker, I know.”

Rann glared. “Ha-ha. I’m serious. I’ve never had this problem before.”

The other shifter stared at him for a moment then threw back his head and roared with laughter, the mighty guffaws echoing in the small changing room. “Oh, that’s good. That’s rich. ‘Problem’. Perfect word. Too good.”

Staring at his friend, Rann looked around in confusion. “Was it something I said?”

Trent, shoulders still bouncing with laughter, clapped him on the back. “You’ll get it one day. For now, though, you need to focus on Prax. If you let him beat you, he’s going to ensure you never get to see her again. Ever.”

By the time his friend stopped speaking, the laughter had left his square face, and the royal blue of his eyes had gone hard and cold.

“Do you understand me, Rann?”

Rolling his shoulders, Rann looked at the ground and then back up at his friend. Jade met cobalt, and the two exchanged a fierce stare.

“Oh, I’m ready,” he growled, cracking his neck first on one side then on the other. “One problem at a time, right?”

“Right,” Trent snarled. “Even if you aren’t going to be clan leader, Prax needs to be stopped. If he gains control, Atrox is going to become a cesspool.”

“Truth,” Rann said, his voice deepening. “Have to stop him.”

A distant bell rang, signaling the fighters to emerge.

Trent preceded Rann out of the door and into the room. He exchanged one last look with his friend then bent his legs and easily leapt up through the hole in the roof to take a spot on the ring, looking down at the participants.

A moment later, Prax came out of his chamber. He was wearing black compression shorts, and his gray eyes filled with hatred the instant they focused on Rann.

The two couldn’t be more opposite. Whereas Rann had long shaggy hair—now tied back to keep it out of the way, since he knew Prax wouldn’t hesitate to grab it—bright green eyes and a strong, chiseled face, Prax was his antithesis.

Taller, somewhat leaner, though still packed with muscle, Prax had cold gray eyes, a high-fade modern haircut, and a nose that was just a little too long for his face. The hatred etched onto his face seemed tailor-made for his features however, and Prax wore it like