Page 34 of Ren: Warlord Brides
This would be brief.
“This is where I’d tell you the rules, but this ain’t that kind of establishment. Hand-to-hand, whatever weapon you got stuffed down your shorts, I don’t care. If one of you dies, next of kin better collect your body, or I dump you out the airlock,” the referee said, then immediately rang the bell.
The crowd roared.
Ren promised his mate he would not kill this male. He would try.
He spread his hands in invitation. He had needed no weapon other than himself.
Dovak moved first, rushing toward Ren in a move easily avoided. The male had speed, but he had no patience. He transmitted all his moves, allowing Ren to block or avoid altogether.
As Ren redirected a blow, he realized Dovak was underachieving.
On purpose.
He was letting Ren have the victory.
This male had an unhealthy amount of hubris. It would get him killed.
Ren went on the attack, moving forward in a flurry of blows. Dovak backed up across the pit, covering his head. The horns were an obvious target, but they seemed to do more damage to his fists than to Dovak. Instead, he grabbed the male by the horn and dragged him forward.
He tossed the male to the ground.
Dovak, sprawled on his back, laughed.
“Concede,” Ren said.
“To you? No, I think not.”
“Then stop insulting me and fight properly.”
The male grinned, his teeth bloodied. “Admit you’re not a Mahdfel. This Mahdfel fetish thing you’ve got going on is impressive, but you’re not fooling anyone. Runt.”
“Repeat what you said.” Ren clenched a fist but kept his limbs loose.
“Runt.” Dovak stepped forward, finger jabbing Ren in the chest. “Weakling. Defective.”
His control slipped and old fury, anger he thought left behind long ago, roared back to being.
He would show the maleweak. He would show him what adefectivewarrior could do.
Ren grabbed the male’s finger and twisted. He went down to his knees with a shout.
“I do not wish to take advantage of the feeble-minded, but you want me to humiliate you,” he said. That was the only possible conclusion.
Ren planted a hit on the male’s jaw. He toppled back. As he scrambled away, he rubbed his jaw. The damnable male smirked.
“On your feet,” Ren barked.
Dovak stood, but his posture had changed. His stance had fluidity. He was no longer the bumbling, overconfident bull charging in, but now a coiled viper ready to strike.
Testing this new development, Ren delivered rapid-fire blows. Dovak blocked and countered with his own, bypassing Ren’s defensive guard.
He landed a solid blow to the male’s side.
Dovak hit back, hard. Hard enough to rattle Ren’s teeth.
Ren drew the back of his hand across his mouth, tasting blood. He grinned.
