Page 90 of Wicked Temptations
Simon grinned and mouthed,Make it good.
I tackled him.
We hit the ground hard, rolling and grappling in a mess that looked far more violent than it was. He got me in a headlock. Ithrew him off and pinned his shoulders. He bucked me off, and we scrambled to our feet, breathing hard.
Then I grabbed his collar, yanked him close, and whispered, “Thanks for this.”
“Anytime, man.”
I shoved him backward and bear-kicked him down. He stumbled, fell, and didn’t get up again.
The cheers were almost deafening. I’d never had a crowd like this, and I couldn’t stop myself from having my moment. I lifted my arms and roared, channeling every movie moment I’d ever seen: gladiators and supervillains, generals, and rock stars. And then, breathing hard, I turned and stepped over the fake corpse on my way to Jude.
His eyes were bright, his hands gripping the armrests so hard that his arms were shaking.
I dropped to one knee in front of the throne. Bowed my head.
“Long live the King.”
And when I looked up, Jude was staring at me like I’d just handed him the world.
***
October 31st hit differently.
Everything at Ridgeway cranked to the maximum. The fog was thick enough to choke on, and the strobe lights made your eyes cross. The music was so loud it rattled your teeth. The crowd was triple what it had been opening night, packed shoulder to shoulder, screaming themselves hoarse.
And in the center of it all sat Jude on his throne.
He was a lot more mobile now and didn’t actually need the dreaded moon boot, but Parker had only signed off on Jude’s premature return if he kept it on and stayed seated. Besides, the wheelchair had evolved over the weeks; it would be a shame toretire it so quickly. There were more chains now, more bones. Someone had added LED strips that pulsed red with the music, and we’d mounted a mini smoke machine underneath.
The crown had grown too, twists of metal that looked like they might draw blood if he moved wrong, caged in broken doll parts, finger bones and black roses.
Jude wore it like he’d been born to it.
The gladiator battle had become the finale every night. We rotated the winner to keep the act fresh and to give each performer their moment. Jonas won twice. Riley took it once with a skating display so acrobatic that the crowd went silent. Simon claimed victory three times because the man was just that good when he decided to show up.
But tonight was mine.
I wanted it more than I’d wanted anything. This was the last night of the season, and I needed to end it right.
The battle played out as it always did. Chaotic, ridiculous, beautiful stage-violence set to circus music. Bodies hit the ground in dramatic sprawls, and the crowd ate it up, chanting and screaming as we took each other down.
One of the vampires nearly got me. I slipped on manufactured blood and went down hard, but I rolled under his lunge in the nick of time, then swept his legs out from underneath him. He went down harder than he would have liked, but I wasn’t playing gentle tonight.
Then it was Simon and me again, circling like we had that first night.
He grinned. Lunged.
I caught him mid-tackle, using his momentum to flip him over my shoulder. He hit the ground with a groan that wasn’t only theatrics, and while we both knew he could have taken five times as much, he stayed down.
I stood alone, breathing hard, face paint streaked with sweat. My ribs ached where Jonas had clipped me, and my shoulder throbbed from accidentally catching someone’s elbow.
I felt alive.
“Champion.” Jude’s voice echoed across our makeshift arena. “You may approach your king.”
I walked toward him slowly, but when I reached the throne, I didn’t instantly kneel. Not this time; not yet. I stood there, towering over him and breathing hard.
