Page 16 of Urban Gladiator

Although having a witch for a mate would crucify me politically. As the future king of Avalon, my appearance must be above reproach. The hatred for witches ran deep in my pack.

Turning back to the numbers on my screen, I watched the stock market trades. It was how my pack made money. We excelled at numbers. And with that talent, we used those funds to build factories in the human world. Factories I had never set foot in. I had humans managing them. Although a handful of my top people had left Avalon for the outside world. We created the best anti-aging products on the planet. The secret was they were infused with fairy nectar. An elixir made from their magic was the proprietary ingredient. It helped slow the aging process for the humans who used it.

We’d taken the gains on the human stock market, and invested it in the business that now made billions. But I still played the stock market for fun. And to ensure future generations of my pack could thrive anywhere in the world. The other supernaturals, though, would have a much more difficult time. There was no way ogres or goblins would blend. And the humans were sure to notice the dragon shifters.

A person could get through the barrier if one knew where. And I did. It was how we were able to import clothing, food, and human technology.

At the knock on my office door, I shouted, “Come in.”

The oak door swung open, and Simon, heir to the vampire throne, poked his head inside. Originally from Sweden, he was six and a half feet with a long mane of golden hair and looked like he was in his midthirties. Get him drunk enough, and he’d tell stories about his life as a Viking.

I sighed. Work wasn’t getting done today. “Simon. Didn’t expect to see you.”

Simon waltzed into my office like he owned the place. His red eyes assessed me. “And you look like shit, my friend. What the hell happened after you won last night?”

“I don’t even know where to begin.” I ran a frustrated hand over my face. I’d had next to no sleep.

“Mind if I take a peek at the witch? She’s rather beautiful. The last few witches were rather bland, but this one is a looker.”

At his interest, I snapped. “You’ll stay the fuck away from her.”

I was instantly contrite. But Simon didn’t get offended; he cocked his head to the right. He was over fourteen hundred years old. He’d lived through the Dark Ages and the Renaissance before boarding the Mayflower to explore North America.

And to escape the hunters in Europe.

“Hmm. I’ve never known you to be this protective of a woman. It’s obvious you’ve fucked her already. But what gives?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t in the mood to discuss Ember with anyone. Not until I was one hundred percent certain she was my mate. And then—shit, I had no idea. This was unfamiliar territory. I couldn’t recall a shifter ever having a witch for a mate.

“Have you tortured her yet?”

“No. Well, yes. Actually, I have.” But I doubted it counted. Because she wasn’t injured, just pleasured until she finally fucking came. Her resolve was breathtaking. And the beauty of her cunt squeezing me had sent my wolf into a frenzy, the likes of which I’d never experienced before.

“Ah, so you started with fucking her. She’s a rare beauty, I’ll give you that.” Simon studied me with his ancient, blood-red gaze. He kept his hair long and pulled back into a ponytail at his nape.

“And your point?” We were friends, but sometimes I forgot how much he could drag something out.

He shrugged. “You could do worse. If you like her all that much, you could always hold off on the ritual.”

No, I couldn’t. Without the sacrifice, the wall between the human world and ours will fall. It needed blood. “Doesn’t matter whether I enjoy fucking her or not. She’ll still meet her fate in two weeks’ time.”

And if she truly was my mate, I would die a slow, lonely death. Loveless. Childless. Without an heir to ascend to the throne upon my demise. It would toss the entire kingdom into a tumult.

It was a fucking mess. On top of the Orcs causing trouble. But then, when didn’t they pose a problem for the kingdom, the ornery bastards.

“If it’s that big of an imposition, I could take her off your hands.” He flashed some fang when he smiled.

The thought of another man touching her had my wolf growling.

Simon frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you—oh fuck, is she your mate?”

Before I could rebuke the notion, Bixby poked his head into the office. The steward wasn’t corporeal. He could open doors when he wanted to, but more often than not, he didn’t waste the effort. “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you—”

“Just spit it out, Bixby.” I cut him off, in no mood for him beating around the bush.

Bixby stepped fully into the room. “Ah, right, sir. Your guest is requesting clothing and food. The food I can take care of but—”

Simon busted up laughing. “You’re keeping the witch naked. And you’re still in this foul a mood. Then why are you in your office and not in there with her?”

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