Page 20 of The Enemy to the Living
Things are simpler here, even with the weight of what I might forfeit hanging over my head. I roll my neck, stretching out my shoulders, but it’s all unnecessary. I’ll face that selkie, and I’ve already seen she’s fast and vicious with those claws. I can win, though. I know that.
I glance down at my T-shirt. I do like this one, though, so I drag it over my head and tuck it into the side of my jacket. Bryn whistles.
“Trying to win over the crowd?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut it.”
He snorts but seems amused. I’m definitely running leaner than I used to, but that just makes the muscles I have stand out more. There’s a mirror in here, and I glance at myself in it. Fuck. I looktired, not fierce, and I don’t need those fae thinking they can get one over on me.
The door slams open and a harried-looking kelpie sticks her head inside. She frowns when she sees me standing there. “C’mon, pup. You’re up.”
“Good luck,” Bryn says, and I nod before I follow the kelpie out into the room. The crowd is lively tonight, though they part to let us through, which is definitely more down to her than me. The selkie’s last opponent is carried away, and I clamber up into the cage, swallowing when the gate slams shut behind me.
The sound should be deafening. I certainly hear the boos, but it’s easier, fight by fight, to drown all that out.
No. I need to pay attention toher. She’s already assessing me, eyes dark and quick, so I size her up in turn. She might have seen me fight before, but I have the advantage of having seen her fighttonight, and I’m sure I have to be at least her third or fourth opponent.
The fae don’t tire quite like we do, but they can’t go on forever. I’ve definitely outlasted at least one troll in the cage.
She moves first, fast as a vampire, but I’ve trained with them now—well, Adam and Lucien, at least—so I see the move coming. The selkie gasps at my first hit, and when she goes down, I make it clear I won’t let up if she doesn’t yield.
She’s smart, too. She gives in gracefully, though I know that when I fight her again, it’s going to be much more difficult. Four fights down and they’re still all underestimating me, but that can only endure for so long.
I lean back against the cage and catch my breath. I want to make it further tonight than I have before. Already, the violence is soothing something in my blood, making me incapable of thinking about Drew or my wolf or my parents—
The cage opens again. I frown when Bryn steps inside, rolling his neck. He’s wearing a shirt, unlike me, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s bigger than me and older.
And he can shift.
Fuck.
I don’t let my sudden insecurity show on my face. I don’t know about his pack or his past, but what are the odds he was brought up—in hindsight—learning how to fight vampires? Sure, Kieran and Drew exclusively trained to do that, but the rest of us learnt some too.
That means I know how to fight wolves, too. Not like Kieran can, I don’t think, which is what has me worried most of all, but maybe I can hold him off, get him to give in.
“Pup,” Bryn says as the door to the cage slams shut. His eyes are bright. Amused.
My lips twitch. “Old man.”
He snorts, fighting an actual smile, and okay, maybe this will be fun. Not like we’re the ones betting, after all, and at least Bryn won’t try to kill me.
Well. Probably.
The bell rings and Bryn is on me before I can blink. He grapples, grunting when I punch him in the side, beneath his ribs. He’s been watching. He knows I’m patient, waiting for an opening to hit hard and end things before they can really begin.
I’ve only seen Bryn fight once, and it was my first night here, so I hardly remember it at all.
It doesn’t matter. Bryn wrestles me to the ground, but I wrap my legs around his hips and roll us over. He dodges one punch, then shoves me off and away.
I grunt when I land hard and scramble to my feet. The crowd is louder than they were for the last fight, even though there’s no fae in the cage. Bryn dances back when I kick out at him, and I see the glitter of his claws when he begins to circle.
Double fuck.
Losing control of a shift is pretty common if a wolf’s in a stressful or highly emotional situation, which means we’ve got to be on the lookout for claws and fangs. But Bryn doesn’t look worried. He’s managing it, which means he’s perfectly in sync with his wolf and has absolutelyimpeccablecontrol.
And here I am, unable to shift at all.
I drop my stance lower. I want to bare my throat, show my belly. The crowd wouldn’t understand that, though.
