When I glance back up, Nash has turned away to talk to Parker. Their heads bend toward each other as they confer a moment, then Nash shrugs the flag off and folds it carefully, handing it to the smaller shifter. Parker slips out quickly and closes the door. His voice comes over the loudspeaker a second later, announcing the start of the fight. Boos and cheers drown him out.
“Who’s he fighting?” I ask Laurie. The beanstalk shifter leans close.
“Bear. Down from Alaska. They call him Grizz.”
“He’s huge. Don’t they do weigh-ins on fighters?”
“Not these fights.” Laurie’s laugh huffs past my ears, his feathery scent tickles my nose. “Just watch.”
The bell clangs and the two animals start circling each other. The grizzly is surprisingly light on his feet. Nash’s face holds a look of concentration. A few light punches start the action, and the scar-faced shifter wades in, slamming a haymaker at Nash’s head. Nash dodges gracefully out of the way, and the crowd murmurs. They want a good fight. They want to see blood.
The grizzly goes nuts, head down, shoulders hunched. His fists are a machine, throwing heavy punches in a constant, deadly rhythm. Nash gets in a few hits but mostly he dances, weaving this way and that. The bruin bellows in frustration and comes faster. His arms blur. I clutch at Laurie.
“Just watch,” he repeats.
Nash toys with the grizzly, turning lightly on his feet. A game, a dance, and the crowd grows restless. They start cheering the bear, who comes and comes and comes.
“He’s wearing him out,” I breathe, just as the grizzly’s fist catches Nash’s shoulder. Nash’s arm snaps back, retaliating with a brutal punch to the fighter’s already scarred face. I hear the crunch from across the room. Blood sprays. The crowd groans in pleasure, the fur scent growing. Around us hands sprout claws and canines lengthen. Nash keeps moving, light and fluid.
My lioness scratches to the surface, unbelievably turned on by seeing Nash’s prowess in the cage.
“King of the Beasts,” the crowd chants. Shifters press against the cage, fingers reaching through the links in an attempt to touch their liege. They love him. They want him, the beautiful violence he gives. He embodies their beasts, their need. The blood he spills satisfies them more than sex, and they crave more and more.
They can’t have him. He’s mine.
Before I know it, I’m pushing through the crowd, all the way up to the cage. A wolf growls as I push past him. One glance at my lioness’ eyes and he whimpers, ducking his head. If he had a tail in human form, he’d tuck it between his legs.
King of the Beasts, they call Nash. And every king needs a queen.
I take my place at the front. Nothing separates me from the fighters but a flimsy bit of metal. It smells slightly of silver-some sort of alloy to keep shifters off, probably. I grip the links and relish the slight burn. And wait.
Nash’s head snaps in my direction. I smile. His eyes widen, pupils lighting to pure blazing amber.
Hey baby, my lioness purrs. He shakes his head as if he can’t believe I’m really here.
He mouths my name, and I practically feel his breath on my skin.
“Who’s the bitch?” the grizzly chuffs, and Nash’s eyes light up gold. The bruin doesn’t see it, still mocking me. He doesn’t have a chance.
Nash whirls, and bowls into the grizzly’s thick chest. There’s no more art, just wild blows that fall with deadly force. The grizzly tries to counter, but each punch drives him back, sends him reeling so his return hits go wide. Finally, the grizzly crumples. Nash slams him to the ground, roaring his victory. I feel the sound in every part of my body. The crowd surges behind me.
Parker opens the door and shifters rush the cage, pushing inside. He cranes his neck, looking for me through the crowd chanting- “King, king, king.”
“Like the fight?” Declan says at my side.
“Where is he?” I half snarl with need.
Declan’s mouth tugs up in a grin. “I’ll take you to him.”
But crossing the room takes forever. Declan finally leads me to the wall, where we slide past a crazed shifter, howling at nothing, strung out and high from the energy of the fight. At last we reach the far side and a private door. “Through there.” Declan holds it for me. “Down the hall. Turn right when you see the lockers. You can follow the scent of blood.”
Heart pounding in my ears, I stride down the hall. The walls pulse with the roar of the crowd. But I catch a whiff of a spice-laden scent.
“Nash,” I whisper, and hurry along.
He’s alone in the locker room, blood streaking his back, his head bent as he leans against the lockers. A warrior, beaten but not broken. My warrior.
“Nash,” I breathe.
He turns, and I rush him, leaping at the last second. He catches me easily, hands cupping my ass as I literally jump him.
I slam my mouth down on his.
DENALI
IN NASH’S arms I forget the cell, the guards. I forget everything but the pull of his lips on mine.
I’m a new creation, all hot desire and electric sensation. My heartbeat trips as Nash breaks the kiss and fastens his mouth to my neck, teeth scraping over my pulse.
I whimper, hips jerking against him. He’s solid and strong, body taut and impressive. I wrap my legs around his waist and he lifts me, maneuvering me back on the bed so I’m under him, safe and protected.
“Denali,” he growls, eyes glowing amber. I’m sure mine are grey-blue. “I’m losing control. You should stop me-”
“I don’t want to stop.” I’ve never been with another lion before. I had no idea how compelling his closeness could be. I yank him closer. I can’t get enough of his scent, his heat, his hips cradled in mine. He’s trying to be considerate but it’s only pissing me off. “Stop holding back,” I growl. “Give it to me, Nash. I want this.” Lifting my pelvis, I rub my wet center against his hard length.