Page 17 of Urban Gladiator

“Enough.” I shot my friend a glare before addressing Bixby. “Yes, it’s my oversight. Find the chit some clothes. And she will be eating her meals in her room. Unless she is with me, she is not permitted outside that room.”

Bixby grimaced.

“Spit it out, man.”

“She threatened to turn me into a gelatinous blob if I returned empty-handed.”

Simon tossed his head back and roared with laughter. The guy had a sadistic sense of humor. But I’d heard enough. It was time I dealt with the witch.

My mate.

I rose from my seat. “I’ll take care of her. Deliver our meal to her room. Leave it outside the door. And then work on finding her some clothes.”

“What are you going to do?” Simon asked, mirth splashed across his face.

“Take care of the problem. You can see yourself out.” I nodded and strode past him. And Simon thought it was hilarious. His laughter followed me down the hall.

Gritting my teeth, I headed for the red room. Before the night was done, I would know if she was, in fact, my mate. And the most fucked up thing was, I didn’t know which outcome I wanted more.

7

I wasn’t sure what I expected to find in the red room. But it definitely wasn’t the witch, lounging on the sofa and watching daytime television. My nose twitched. She’d bathed and removed my scent from her body.

My wolf rose with a low, rumbling growl of displeasure.

At my entrance, she shifted and glanced my way with an arched brow. “You again?” She sighed dramatically. “Here to fuck me again?” Like it was a great hardship to be pleasured until she screamed in ecstasy.

“In a minute,” I replied, letting my wolf know we would mark her with our scent again soon and not to lose his mind. It didn’t appease him, but I could only put out so many fires in one day.

“Question. Were you ordering Bixby about and then threatening to turn him into a gelatinous blob if he didn’t comply?”

“And if I did?”

I marched to the couch, my hackles rising. “Let’s get one thing straight. You are not the mistress of this castle. You’re not even a guest. You are my prisoner by right and might. You have no say in when you’re fed or even if you are. And unless you want me to lock you up in the dungeon, you will behave accordingly.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes.

“You disagree with that statement. Do you really want to discover what will happen when you don’t behave?”

She shrugged. “It will be better than lying around here and waiting for something to happen. Newsflash, wolf boy, I’m not used to a life of leisure. And waiting around for you to decide whether or not to kill me is not my idea of a good time.”

“This isn’t meant to be a good time, as you say, for you. It’s meant to be a punishment for your crimes.”

“And what crimes did I commit, exactly?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. The move smooshed her glorious tits together like an offering. My cock lengthened beneath my trousers at the picture she made. Without the cuffs, her wrists were slender, appearing fragile when I knew the woman was anything but.

“The war. Witches lost, and your treachery against Avalon was exposed.”

“I wasn’t alive then. I committed no treachery. So your attempts to chastise and punish me over things that have no bearing on my life are simply ridiculous.”

“Just how old are you?” For the first time in a long time, I wondered if she might be right.

“Twenty-two.”

“That’s it?” She was a babe compared to me. And no, she hadn’t been alive when the war started, or ended, for that matter. For the first time in two hundred years, I questioned the righteousness of the gladiator tournaments.

“Why does it matter? How old are you?”

“On my last birthday, I was two hundred thirty-three.”

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