Page 1 of Claim My Soul

Chapter One

Herleif Aganarssonbegan his night the same way he had for many nights the past year: annihilating monsters in the name of entertainment.Amusement for the rich, the elite shifters of New York, and the humans who were privy to the paranormal.Not that he gave a shit about entertaining the bastards, but he had no choice.

That’s what happened when there was a debt to be paid.And a hefty one at that, thanks to his father’s greed and ineptitude when it came to finances.

Herleif had struck a deal to pay that debt due to his aging father’s decline in health as well as mental state.Thus, he began competing in the shifter fight club in the lower level of The Gin Room in New York City.Or rather, a suburb.Same difference in his mind.It was one of a handful of locations throughout the city.

To ensure his father, Agnar, made no more foolish decisions nor faced further temptations, he’d been forced to return to their homeland of Northern Denmark after making a rather large payment toward what he owed.Of course, he’d grumbled and protested, but at least Agnar still breathed.

There were times when Herleif himself had wanted to strangle his father for his fucking arrogance and brashness.But he was a devoted son and did what needed doing.His father seemed to take that for granted, but his mother had begged him for leniency and continued to express her gratitude.That eased his surly attitude for the most part.After all, there was little one could do when it came to failing mental capacities.

Then there were times his anger bubbled to the surface.That’s when he’d channel that emotion and take his frustrations out on his opponents.And he never lost.That didn’t stop other beasts or shifters from trying, thinking they’d best him.A few had come close, but at the end of the bout, he was always victorious, becoming a sure bet.Over the years, many had complained, and some had tried to prevent him from competing, but it’d been in vain.

Nothing and no one stopped Herleif the troll.Besides, he provided worthy performances for the viewers willing to toss an insane amount of money around.

If he had chosen to fight more often, he could’ve been done in less time.Good thing he hadn’t been forced to pay the debt quicker, because even a battle-hungry troll couldn’t stomach it every night.It lost its appeal.So, when he felt like it, he’d enter the club and go to work.Lately he’d been fighting more just to get the damn debt over and done with.He grew weary of this life and was ready to move on, doing what he wanted.What that was, he had yet to discover.

Per the rules of the club, he’d been rewarded handsomely, hence his decision to choose this activity to pay off the debt.Of course, he’d been allowed to keep a portion of the winnings in order to survive day-to-day.He hadn’t needed much, living a minimalistic lifestyle by renting a hole-in-the-wall apartment located in the basement of a shifter-owned restaurant.A perk was all the leftover food that hadn’t sold for the day, which was always plenty to fill his belly for the night.

“Harry!You’re up!”

Herleif rolled his eyes at the shortened name, knowing nothing he said or did would change the action.In the beginning, he’d tried but soon realized it was a waste of his time and energy.Not that he had any shortage of energy.Trolls were notoriously known for their strength and stamina.He also had magical abilities, but it wasn’t often Herleif needed to call upon that aspect of his being during a fight.

There were two arenas in this particular establishment where fights took place.The first being a roped section much like a boxing ring where competitors fought until one conceded.Then there was the pit which was exactly as one would think: a shallow hole in the rocky foundation where usually only one fighter exited alive.

Barbaric?Sure.But that was the way of it with many shifters.They needed an outlet, and this activity was regulated versus going out into the world and wreaking havoc among the humans.No one was forced to fight.It was always a choice.

Herleif was feeling especially surly tonight.He’d been on edge lately, angrier than usual, and he was ready to beat the shit out of someone.It was his nature, after all, and aggression was expected of him and his kind.But his father was setting him off.He’d been contacting Herleif more frequently, demanding he clear the debt and pave the way for him to return to the States.Agnar had become bored and restless, and he was ready for excitement.

Herleif’s mother had no sway, and he felt sorry for her, living in committed misery to his bastard of a father.He’d tried ignoring Agnar but knew at some point he’d have to deal with him one way or another.

Lumbering his way to the pit, spectators—men and women alike—gave Herleif a wide berth while cheering as the announcer introduced him and his opponent.He paid them no heed as he focused on the man already standing in the shallow hole.He looked like an ordinary human, but Herleif knew looks were absolutely deceiving.He, for instance, had the ability to shift into human form, looking like a Viking of olden days, standing at nearly seven feet with dark blond hair and honed muscles from years of rigorous training and fighting.In his true form as a troll, he could double as the widely popular Green Giant from the comics.That is, if said giant had long hair, clawed hands, and tusks protruding from his mouth.

Leaping into the pit, the ground shook beneath Herleif’s feet, causing his opponent to stumble.But the man immediately shifted into a wolf, snarling and hissing as the crowd gathered closer, shouting with enthusiasm.

“Lycan, eh?Time to teach a dog to heel.”Herleif baited, knowing it’d irk the beast.He’d fought numerous shifters, from vampires to wraiths to a variety of animals, so he was no stranger to wolves.This one was the largest to date but still small compared to Herleif.Usually he fought with no weapons, using only his brute strength, and most bouts didn’t last long.On occasion, spears, clubs, and shields were thrown into the arena, and the fighters—even Herleif at times—took full advantage of their use.

The wolf prowled, jaw snapping and fur bristling as Herleif circled, watching and waiting for him to make the first move.After several moments, the crowd grew restless, taunting and growling almost as much as the Lycan, encouraging action.The beast shifted left then right, lunging at Herleif’s ankles, only to receive a kick for his efforts.Credit to the wolf, he didn’t whine but took the blow, rolling and springing up onto his paws.He snarled, lunged again, only to flip in midair, kicking out with his hind legs, catching Herleif on the arm.Scratches welled with blood and the crowd roared with excitement.

Herleif merely glanced at his arm then grinned at the Lycan.“First strike.It’ll be your last.”He feigned a lunge causing the wolf to jump back.That’s when Herleif made his move, punching the beast in his jaw.This time, the wolf couldn’t contain his cry, but he managed to scurry away before Herleif could land another blow.

The two circled one another, getting in strike after strike and each taking a few tumbles.Then with speed that impressed Herleif, his opponent jumped on his back and tried to latch onto his shoulder.But Herleif grabbed the Lycan and tossed him over his head so that he landed with a sickening thud against the rocky floor.Herleif inwardly winced at the impact but couldn’t show weakness.Instead, he merely smirked.

And why did that still leave a sour taste in his mouth?

The beast remained unmoving as Herleif approached with caution, knowing he could be faking unconsciousness to draw him closer before striking.

Labored breaths escaped the wolf’s mouth along with a gurgling that probably meant internal bleeding.Herleif felt sorry for the creature.Suddenly, he transformed back into a man and began to spit up blood.When his gaze met Herleif’s, he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Mercy.Don’t let him take my soul,” he croaked before a wracking cough overtook him, causing more blood to spew onto the ground.

Herleif stiffened at that remark.Who would take his soul?Wouldn’t it ascend like all the others?

“Finish me,” the Lycan rasped.

Herleif looked around at the cheering crowd as they yelled for the man’s death.In that instance, he wanted to decimate the spectators, wipe them out for finding pleasure in his acts.

Seeing nothing or no one unusual, he kneeled, about to do something he’d never done before.Clasping his hands on either side of the warrior’s head, Herleif met his gaze.“Till Valhalla,” he whispered.Then snapped the man’s neck, giving him a quick death.

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