Page 65 of Given to the Fae
I pace the room for a few minutes before I can’t take it anymore. I leave the room, ignoring Jak when he asks me where I’m going.
I go out to the courtyard and see one of the serving orcs standing to attention by the wall.
‘Where are the nearest black pit fights?’ I snarl.
‘To watch?’
I bare my teeth. ‘No,’ I growl.
His lip curls at one end ever so slightly. ‘Two streets down. There’s a bridge. Under it you’ll find what you’re looking for.’
I leave without a word and follow the directions, finding a black bridge a few minutes’ walk later. There are no sounds, and I decide that if that orc was lying to me, I’m going to take out all of my anger and frustration on him and not some seasoned fighter in the circle.
But as I pass into the bridge’s shadow, I realize there’s a conjure placed upon it because I can hear the yelling and the betting and the steel on steel of a fight going on. I press further into the darkness, my body already humming at the familiar sounds, the memory of my fists hitting flesh, scales, thick hide.
I take off my shirt and throw it into the darkness just as I fall through an invisible veil and find myself in a dimly lit cavern. I look up at the cave ceiling and wonder how deep I walked without realizing I was even descending.
The fight in the ring in front of me is over. The small goblin, standing in the middle of the circle that’s been carved into the stone floor of the cave, yells and waves his arms, announcing the winner, a huge orc. I smile darkly. My favorite kind of opponent.
‘Who will fight Morkai?’ the announcer booms. ‘Who has the courage and the skill to beat the unbeatable?’
I step in before anyone else can and crack my neck. The crowd roars. I see now that there are at least fifty orcs, goblins, demons, trolls, and even a couple of fae males who don’t look like the type to consider us brethren.
‘What is your name?’
‘I’m called Mountain,’ I sneer. I’ve hated the name since I was a boy, but when I fight, that’s who I am.
The goblin leaves the circle quickly, and I size up my opponent. I let out the anger inside me that I feel when I think of Jak and Locke, the fury at the injustice of the Dark Realms, and the horror at how Bryn has been treated, and will continue to be. And I free that other thing too, the frustration in my body, desire for the human the likes of which I’ve never felt before. The need I feel to have her under me, to consume her mind, body, and soul, to make her scream with pleasure and desire, and perhaps a little pain. But I’ll never have her.
My roar is deafening, and I launch myself at the orc. The last thing I remember seeing is his eyes widening almost imperceptibly and the cocky sneer evaporating from his face.
CHAPTER 7
BRYN
Iawake to find myself in a bed. It’s dark outside, and I frown in the light from the fire. The last I remember is Morgan letting me cry into his clothes, and I grimace at the embarrassing memory as I sit up. I’m in his chamber, inhisbed. I look around the room and gasp as I see a great, hulking form folded into a small chair on the other side of the room.Morgan. He’s watching me, but I can’t see him clearly. He’s too deep in the shadows.
‘Are you...well, my lord?’ I ask, feeling an odd sense of concern for him that I don’t understand.
His answering laugh is dark, and my heart picks up.
He cocks his head to the side as if listening and, slowly, he rises to his feet.
‘Are you afraid of me, little human?’ he asks.
His voice sounds lower. More dangerous. My skin prickles, and something low in my gut twists. The sensation is odd, but it isn’t unpleasant.
I shake my head a little.
‘Are you certain? I can hear your blood pulsing. It’s increasing steadily. If not from fear, then what, female?’
I don’t answer, but I feel my heart pounding faster as he comes closer, step by agonizingly slow step, and by the way he chuckles, he can hear it too.
‘Do I make youuneasy?’ he asks.
I give a tiny nod.
The noise he makes is somewhere between a purr and a growl as he steps into the light. I gasp at the swollen gash under his eye, running parallel with his cheekbone. He immediately brings a hand up to touch where I’m looking, and I see that his knuckles are split and bloodied.
