The Unrepentant (Skharr DeathEater #6) - Michael Anderle Page 0,82

jumped out of the way, he didn't respond with a counter yet. To be honest, he wanted the fight to last as long as he could draw it out.

Having a good fight was a sound way to get the blood flowing again.

The other man recovered quickly and narrowed his eyes as he tried to determine how the barbarian had moved so quickly.

"Come on, then," he taunted. "I should be chewing on sand by now!"

His opponent rushed in again and this time, he stood his ground, blocked the punch thrown at his ribs with his elbow, and pushed down on it. He caught hold of the other hand aimed at his face, jerked his head forward, and drove his forehead into the man's nose. A loud crunch was audible, and the watching group cheered enthusiastically.

The fighter fell back, clutching his nose, as Skharr wiped a little of the blood that had spattered onto his forehead.

"You'll pay for that!"

"Until now, you’ve been all talk."

Another wild swing made the barbarian duck hastily and he leaned to the left as another followed, and another in quick succession. The man was large and put tremendous power behind those blows, but he had a fatal flaw in his style. He was too reliant on his size and power and had never bothered to learn technique.

"Come on, then," the barbarian taunted. "It's time for you to stop dancing and start fighting!"

The other man hissed in fury, lunged forward, and swung his fist in a wide arc to catch his adversary across the jaw. When Skharr moved out of the way, he suddenly realized what his opponent was doing.

The knowledge wasn’t in time to stop him, of course, and the fighter dropped low and brought his other hand up in a quick strike that crashed into the warrior’s groin.

An explosion of pain ripped through him as he was forced back and he sucked in a deep gasp that somehow never seemed to find the bottom of his lungs.

"Is that enough for you, barbarian?"

There was no point in calling foul, of course. The pirates weren't the type to follow conventional rules and the blow appeared to follow the accepted and unspoken rules of a brawl in their territory.

The pain had already begun to fade, but Skharr still sank to his knees like he had difficulty standing or even focusing on the fight. The reaction was one the man didn't question as he approached with a broad grin on his face and prepared to deliver the finishing blow.

The barbarian waited until he was close enough with his fist raised to strike before he lashed out.

His right arm came up first and his fingers closed like a vice around the man's genitals and squeezed them until all the fight evaporated from his eyes. He grinned as he grasped the fighter’s shoulder next and stood, lifting him with a heave and grunt, and held him over his shoulders as he looked at the silenced crowd.

Dropping the man onto his knee would end the fight, of course, but it would also break his back. Among the Dragon Followers, that was tantamount to a death sentence on its own. He was angry that his opponent had gone a little too far but not that angry.

With another grunt, he flung the fighter onto the sand a few paces away, where he remained while he groaned and clutched his groin.

After a moment, Skharr followed the man's lead, groaned, and adjusted his balls, which were still sore from the strike.

"Fuck me," he whispered before he turned to the others. "Your friend will need help from your healers, provided you have any. And if he ever has the intention to fuck again, you might want to make it as quickly as possible."

Three men bolted up from the stands and hurried immediately to drag their friend to his feet as he still tried to shield the parts that had been handled so roughly.

Reed looked pensive as she wandered onto the sand as the other onlookers were leaving.

"You have a toughness to you," she said. "I can appreciate that. If you and your dwarf wish to leave this place, we have ten snekkar sailing soon. But we cannot keep your horse. Not for free."

"I'm not his dwarf," Brahgen protested.

Skharr looked around. "We have some coin that we could part with, but I have a feeling you prefer to trade in goods, yes?"

She nodded. "That sword?"

"No. But we have a donkey in need of a new home. She'll work hard and