they’re saying as it’s a mixture of English and what sounds like a couple of other languages.
I look to Torrez to defend me against their crazy, but his smile grows wider, and he just shrugs like there’s nothing he can do.
“Well, if you don’t want him, I do,” a large woman announces as she stands at the next table over. She’s massive and looks like one of those heavy weight lifters you see in the Olympics, the ones with the tree trunk thighs and the bulldog face.
“You can’t just challenge me for my mate!” I declare. “He’s mine,” I answer back, my tone a little whinier than I want.
“Technically she can. You aren’t actually mated until it’s consummated, and since you aren’t interested in doing that right now, the challenge is fair,” Fedor tells me and then looks at Torrez. “Brun would make a fine match; she’d bare you nothing but alphas, I’m sure.”
It’s all I can do not to tell Fedor he can shove that matchmaker shit up his alpha ass, but being that I’m already in enough trouble with this pack at the moment, I manage to keep my mouth shut. Torrez nods at the alpha like he’s contemplating the offer of Brun and her alpha baby-making skills. I glare at him. The entire pack is already pushing tables out of the way to make a space in the middle of the clearing where it looks like this fight is about to go down. Brun is already on one side of the clearing, hopping up and down and stretching out.
“Is this for fucking real?” I whisper-screech at Torrez, and I look around to take in the growing excitement of the shifters all around us.
“Looks like it, Witch,” Torrez tells me, with way too much amusement in his voice and sparkling in his eyes.
He’s fucking loving this.
“I should just let Brun have you,” I growl at him. “She’d probably break you in half with just her vagina, and then we’d see how funny you think all of this is,” I grumble, and Torrez just smiles even bigger.
“Kinky,” he retorts and then skips away before I can deck him.
“What are the terms of this challenge?” Fedor yells out, and the excitable shifters quiet down to hear him.
“No magic,” Brun shouts out.
“Then no shifting,” I call back.
“Winner is mated before sunrise, or they’re open to challenge again,” Manya announces, and I shoot her a fuck off look that doesn’t faze her at all.
I watch Brun do the last of her stretches, and look down at what I’m wearing. Skinny jeans and a sweater do not make for the best gear to fight in, and I don’t need to risk my range of motion being limited. I kick off my ankle boots, unbutton my pants and shimmy out of them.
“What are you doing?” Torrez hisses at me.
“Making it easier to move around,” I hiss back.
I pull my sweater off over my head, leaving me in a tank top, bra and underwear. A few appreciative whistles sound off in the crowd, and Torrez releases a warning growl and puffs up in challenge. I can’t help but appreciate the dose he’s getting of his own medicine—and his nice pecs. Torrez sniffs at the air and turns his heated gaze on me.
“Fucking wolf nose,” I grumble to myself, but apparently not quietly enough, because Torrez releases a bark of laughter.
He slaps me hard on the ass and pushes me forward. “Go win me,” he instructs as I move closer to Brun.
I want to glare at him, but I’m too busy explaining to my vagina that we have to not die before we can fuck the annoying smile off his face. I’m pretty sure the scent of my arousal is perfuming the air all around me, and I attempt to mask it with anger as I hype myself up for this match. I assess Brun as I start to stretch out, but I’m mostly chanting in my head about all the things pissing me off at the moment and inviting the rage and bloodlust into my veins.
I go through all the shit with my Chosen and Enoch’s coven, playing back every stupid fight and snipe they’ve made at each other. I tap into Silva and his disgust, and then shovel Lachlan’s hate onto my pile of burning fury. I pick at every question I have that I’ll probably never get the answers to, until they open up and bleed frustration into me. And when I repeat