Page 5 of Urban Gladiator

He was attractive enough that I wondered what he was packing below the belt. I had never considered banging the enemy as a way to gain the upper hand and defeat them. But then, I must use every tool in my arsenal to survive.

I’d fuck the wolf if it meant I got to live to see another day. All I needed was time to implement my plan.

As the night and the competition continued, the crowd became more raucous. They were celebrating even more than the coven, which I hadn’t thought possible. And it wasn’t only shifters in the audience. There were giants, ogres, orcs. A contingent of fairies tittered beside a group of sirens. I hated those skank bitches. A group of vampires sat still, their faces dour as the night progressed. And don’t even get me started on the demons. Their whole section had already ventured into the orgy portion of the evening.

I kept my face serene as the last two combatants entered the ring.

The warrior with ice-blue eyes, his armor black as night, had his broadsword clenched in his hand. And the second was a giant from northern Avalon. With mousy brown hair and a face that looked like it had been carved from a mountain, he stood more than nine feet tall. The big brute was confident enough in his abilities that he hadn’t even worn a helmet for the tournament.

Of the two, I’d prefer mister blue eyes. At least I figured I could seduce him if it came to it.

They circled one another in the arena. A signal went up. The crowd roared. But it wasn’t because someone won. The jumbotron screen announced this was a formal challenge and their fight was to the death.

And they called witches bloodthirsty.

Hypocrisy at its finest.

Uncertainty settled within my soul. I didn’t know what happened after a victor was declared. Not a single person had spoken to me. They acted like I only existed to serve as their prize.

My gaze stayed trained on the duo circling each other.

The giant attacked first, charging the wolf using sheer brute strength. But even in his human form, the wolf was faster. He used the giant’s momentum against him, knocking the brute to his knees.

The giant roared and clamored to his feet, swinging his claymore toward the wolf’s head. He ducked and arced his sword out, drawing first blood.

The audience went nuts.

But they kept at one another. The claymore struck the wolf’s side. If it weren’t for his armor, it would have crushed him. Yet he shook it off. He had a fire inside him. Unlike all the other competitors, he wanted it more, wanted me more.

And even though I had no idea what he would do once he won me, whether he’d kill me or fuck me or both, I wanted him to win. He presented me with a challenge. Because perhaps I could take my enemy down from the inside. Instead of a frontal assault, displaying my magic for all of Avalon to see, I could attempt to undermine from within.

But it was all supposition. I might not make it out of the arena alive unless I used my powers.

The fighting turned brutal. Both men went after the other because their lives depended upon it. The wolf was knocked down by a fist to the head.

He lay on the ground, shaking his head as the giant approached. The crowd was on their feet, chanting their names.

“Rowan. Rowan. Rowan.”

“Taurus. Taurus. Taurus.”

I didn’t know which was which. Not that it mattered.

I held my breath as the giant barreled toward the wolf. My gaze drifted down and connected with his icy glare. Then he shifted his focus back to the fight. And it dawned on me. He was playing the giant. And the giant played right into the man’s hands.

He rushed the wolf with a bellow, his claymore poised to rip the wolf’s head off. But the wolf rose at the last second and thrust his sword across his belly. The giant’s bellow turned into a pained groan as his bowels spilled onto the field.

With a look of utter shock, the giant keeled over dead into a pile of his own filth.

The arena went bonkers. The king rose from his seat and addressed the crowd.

“The winner of the gladiator tournament is Rowan Grant, my son, and the heir to the throne of Avalon. The witch prize is his by right.”

Oh shit.

I’d been rooting for my vilest enemy. He stepped around the fallen giant, his stride suffused with purpose. Determined satisfaction lit his gaze. And I wondered, for the hundredth time in the past hour, if this was the part where I was executed.

His long strides ate up the distance, and I gathered my power as he neared.

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