Vampire Fight Club
Nate stepped inside the medic office, his blue-black hair gleaming under the harsh lights. “She’s mine.”
Con cocked a tawny eyebrow. “Yours?”
“Thirst’s,” Nate ground out. “I’ve come to promote her, in fact.”
“Is that so? Convenient timing.”
Nate’s ebony brows slammed down over eyes that darkened dangerously. “It’s my club. My timing conveniences me, and me alone. When I want something, I get it.” He shifted his gaze to her, and his eyes darkened more. “And I want her.”
There was no mistaking the heat banked behind those long lashes, and Lena’s breath caught. No male had ever looked at her the way Nate did, and she liked it.
Con, however, did not. He went taut, as if preparing to defend her, his silver eyes flashing like razor blades, but quickly, she put herself between them with a casual smile and took Con’s forearm.
“I’ll walk you out,” she said cheerily. “It was nice of you to stop by. Tell Eidolon I’ll consider his offer.”
A barely audible rumble sounded behind her, and a tingle of pleasure skittered over her skin at the possessive quality of Nate’s growl. Even if he only wanted her for the club, it was nice to be valued. Oh, she knew that UG valued her, but here she had fewer supervisors and more autonomy. It was . . . cool.
Remember why you’re here, idiot. Vaughn is dead. Right. Talk about a cold splash of water.
Con stopped at the doorway. “It’s okay, Lena. I can find my own way out.” His gaze shifted to Nate, and he bared his fangs before returning to her. “Just take care of yourself. If you need anything—” once again, he gave Nate the you’re-dead-if-you-harm-her look “—anything at all, you know to call.”
“I know.” She went up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “And thank you.”
Con strode away, and when she turned back to Nate, once again, her breath was stolen from her lungs. Dressed in faded jeans and a navy T-shirt that clung to every sculpted muscle like shrink-wrap, he stood next to the exam table, his black mane cascading down his back and around his shoulders in a shimmering waterfall, his big body vibrating with lethal power. He was . . . magnificent.
“Is he your lover?” Nate’s voice was deep, husky, and she shivered with feminine appreciation.
“Hardly. He’s mated to my boss’s sister.”
“I’m your boss.”
Damn. Nice screw-up. “Of course you are. It’s just that I worked there for a long time, and it’s hard to get used to the fact that I’m not there anymore.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he said nothing. Instead, in brutal, heart-pounding silence, he strode to the door and closed it.
The click of the lock was the loudest sound she’d ever heard, and she actually jumped like a twitchy rabbit.
Riveted by curiosity and the mere sight of him, she watched as he wheeled around and closed the distance between them. As he looked down at her, his expression was a curious mix of hunger and regret that she didn’t understand.
“Now,” he said softly, “we finish what we started in my office.”
Nate was fucking lit. The time he’d spent in the jungle at the site of the new fight club had worked him into a knot of nerves and need. He’d long ago determined that the more primitive the environment, the more his baser instincts surfaced.
It didn’t get more primitive than the South American rain forest.
Thanks to the make-out session in his office with Vladlena before he left, he’d already been coming out of his skin, but then the trip to the steamy jungle jacked him up even more. Standing beneath ancient trees, on soil touched only by beasts as he inhaled the clean, unpolluted air that smelled of rain, plants, and a jaguar that had passed recently, had made him vibrate with pure, animal desire. He’d wanted to hunt, to feed, to mate.
He’d understood the moment he’d set foot on the site why Fade had chosen it. There was an elemental power at play there, and no underworld creature would be able to resist it. A gladiatorial arena placed on the soil would become the demon equivalent of the Roman Colosseum, and with the blood sacrifice to bind evil to it . . . it was conceivable that the land could be claimed in the name of Sheoul—or hell, as humans called it.
The very idea was horrifying, but right now Nate was having trouble concentrating on anything but the female in front of him. He was so aroused, so on fire that he expected to see smoke from the friction of his clothes on his skin. Finding her with that asshole vampire, their relationship so familiar, hadn’t helped. Nate had wanted to destroy the male, deliver his fangs to Vladlena on a necklace, and then rut with her on the very ground where he’d won the battle.
And wasn’t that sexy. He nearly rolled his eyes. Damned jungle had turned him into a caveman.
Running with the caveman thing . . . he got all testosterone-buzzed at the sight of her wearing his gift. It might be a mere stethoscope, but she’d accepted his offering, and for some reason, it made him want to beat his chest and drag her into his lair. Instead, because a sliver of civility had pierced through the jungle haze, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her against the wall. She didn’t protest. Not that he expected her to; the scent of her desire filled the room with her special perfume, ratcheting up his need even more.
But ultimately, this wasn’t about his desperation to get between those toned thighs. This was about saving her from an excruciating death on an altar—a death he was tasked to be responsible for.
No, he couldn’t profess that he didn’t want this for himself—he’d been unnaturally obsessed with Lena since she walked into his office. Even her virginity should have been a turnoff. He’d avoided virgins like their veins ran with holy water instead of blood. But in Lena’s case . . . damn. A purr vibrated his chest at the thought of being her first, of laying claim to her the way no other male had.
Of taking her for his own and keeping her.
Except that couldn’t happen. This would be a one-time thing, because if Fade even suspected that Nate wanted her, she was dead.
Or worse, if Fade found out that Nate had been the one to take her virginity. And Nate was well aware that there could be worse.
Shoving that thought out of his mind, he cupped the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers. Again, she didn’t fight him. In fact, she opened for him, her hands coming down on his ass to pull him closer. He was already hard—hell, he’d been hard for days—and her soft belly cradled his aching erection with just enough pressure to be considered torture.
Man, he wished he could take his time with her, could ease her into her first time, but the clock was ticking, and when this particular hourglass ran out, so would her life.
Inhaling raggedly, he palmed her fine ass and lifted her so her legs were around his waist and his cock was in contact with her core. They both groaned at the sensation, and as he slid her up and down while rocking into her, her groan turned into a soft cry of pleasure. He spun toward the exam table, because while he couldn’t seduce her properly in a soft bed, he could at least make sure her first time wasn’t against a wall or on the floor.
“Need to be inside you,” he murmured against her lips. “Need to make you scream my name.”
“Yes,” she breathed. Her back arched, and her hot center rubbed him so perfectly, so sweetly, he damn near came right then and there. “Wait . . .” In his arms, she stiffened. “No. I can’t.”
“You don’t have any patience.” He nipped her jaw, then licked the tender skin there. He couldn’t wait to be at her throat, taking her inside him as he moved inside her.
Her palms flattened against his chest, and before he could put her on the table, she writhed hard enough to make him lose his grip, and her feet hit the floor. “I’m not having sex with you.”
“Yes,” he said roughly, “you are.”
He seized her by the waist and hauled her against him, one hand going to her scrub bottoms’ drawstring. The storm of lust gathering inside him intensified, a raging force of nature fueled by the res
idual stir of the jungle, unquenched thirst for Lena, and a carnal instinct to possess the female he’d had in his sights for days.
Lightning fast, she hauled off and slapped him. “Release me.” She didn’t wait for him to obey. With a surprisingly vicious stomp on his foot, she threw herself backwards, crashing into the supply tray and knocking metal instruments everywhere.
She didn’t get far. “Dammit, woman!” He caught her around the torso and pinned her between his body and a cabinet.
Son of a bitch. This couldn’t have gone worse, but it was too late to turn on the charm, and he knew it. He’d never forced a female in his life, and he wouldn’t cross that line now. But he’d do what he had to in order to save her life. Steeling himself for her response to what was going to be the most dickheaded thing he’d ever said or done, he wrapped his fingers around her throat and bared his fangs.
“You’ll sleep with me, or you’re fired.”
Her throat convulsed beneath his fingers and her eyes shot wide open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Fuck or flee. Your choice.”
She began to tremble, and gods, he felt like a bastard. “You . . . asshole.”
“Guess that’s your answer.” He released her and stepped back. “Pack your shit, turn in your uniform, and never come back to this place. Do you understand me, Lena? Never, ever return.” He wheeled around and yanked open the door, stopping when a miscellany of medical supplies pelted his back.
“Go to hell, Nathan.” She beaned him with her stethoscope, which fell to the floor next to his feet, sprawled like a dead snake. “Go. To. Hell.”
Not a problem, he thought, as he exited the office. He was already there.
Chapter 8
Vladlena stood in the medical office like a dolt, stunned to the core. Dangling from her fingers were the set of keys she’d lifted off Nate when she’d realized what he wanted from her and how serious he was about getting it.
What didn’t sit well with her was the sickening knowledge that had she been able to have sex with him, she would have. He wouldn’t even have had to threaten her. She’d have been his for the taking.
Gods, she was an idiot.
She looked around at the supplies scattered on the floor, some of them a result of her clumsiness, some from hurling them at Nate. How could he have turned into such a coldhearted bastard like that? The answer smacked her upside the head with a big, fat, duh-stick. What else had she expected from someone who was most likely pitting fighters against each other in death matches?
The reality was a welcome cold fist to the solar plexus. Anger and hurt collided, but panic quickly overshadowed the mix. She was out of time. If she didn’t find the fight club now, she never would.
Eschewing stealth, she crossed the dance floor, stalked down the hall to Nate’s office, and knocked loudly. No answer. She tried the door. Unlocked. So she didn’t need his keys after all.
She placed them on the desk, but before she did anything stupid, she made a quick call to Underworld General and left a message with the triage nurse. After hanging up, she tripped the secret door. It swung open with no more sound than a whisper of air, revealing exactly what she’d both hoped and dreaded to find; a passageway.
She took one deep, bracing breath, and started down the stairs.
At the base, she became aware of her surroundings, that they were nothing but a cold, claustrophobic tunnel of cement and stone. As she walked, the sound of cheers rose up, growing louder, until she couldn’t hear herself think, but she could definitely feel her stomach churning.
It was real. It was all real, and Nate, that . . . that . . . dick . . . was smack dab in the middle of it all.
Rounding a corner, she caught sight of an opening ahead. A mass of bodies blocked her view of whatever was beyond, but if the snarls, growls, and grotesque wet thumps were any indication, she’d found the fight club. Unwelcome visions of her brother being in the middle of all this assaulted her brain, and she squeezed her eyes closed and halted for just a moment.
Get it together . . .
She started moving again, pushing her leaden feet forward, and too late she noticed the two sentries standing just outside the entrance. Her heart tripped over itself, and so did her feet, but thankfully, even as she fell forward out of the tunnel, one of the big males merely grabbed her, smiled, and released her into the crowd. Apparently, they were there to prevent people from entering the tunnel, not leaving it.
The air was ripe with the scent of blood, lust, and fury. Quickly but carefully, she eased through the crowd, searching for the public entrance. Once she found that, she could get the hell out of here and back to Underworld General to report the location—
A hand came down on her shoulder, and she whirled, drew a harsh, startled breath when she came face to face with Fade, whose eyes were glowing crimson.
“You don’t belong here, little girl,” he grated.
Before she could say a word, he jerked her into him, squeezed her neck, and all went black.
Chapter 9
For decades, Nate had been dead, his heart little more than a desiccated knot of muscle sitting uselessly in his chest. But as Gladius’s manager, Budag, rubbed his bald head and told Nate about Vladlena’s foray into the fight club, Nate’s heart began to stir.
No, not just stir. It went mad with fear, worry, and dread. That damned shifter nurse had performed CPR on him, resurrecting his cold, undead self.
“Release her,” Nate ground out. He looked past Budag’s hulking shoulder from where he stood at the tunnel threshold between Gladius and Thirst. The crowd was wound up about something, and bloodlust was in the air.
“No can do, vampire.” Budag’s deep voice rattled Nate’s temper. “Fade already put her in the ring for a bait match.”
Nate lost it. He slammed the demon into the wall and got right up in his face, fangs bared, ready to take a chunk of flesh out of him. “You fucking lie! He wouldn’t have done that. She was going to be a sacrifice—”
“Since she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, she was no longer desirable as a sacrifice.” Budag’s almond eyes crinkled with amusement. “At least, not a sacrifice for the new fight club. The Neethul twins are enjoying her plenty as a sacrifice.”
Nate didn’t waste another second. Heaving Budag aside, he plowed through the crowd, shoving people out of the way as he hauled ass to the ring. His heart, if it beat, would have stopped at the sight of Lena, her uniform ripped and bloodied, trying to fend off the two elf-like demons who were toying with her. And there was no question that they were toying. He’d seen the brothers fight, and right now, they were like hellhounds with a cornered cat.
Nate didn’t think. He acted. Acted himself right into the arena and caught the demons by surprise. Taking advantage of their temporary confusion, he punched his fist into one of the males’ neck and ripped out his throat. Blood and strings of gore dripped from his hand, and the audience roared.
The remaining Neethul barely cast his dead brother a glance as he came at Nate with a deflesher, a thick chain with a razor stirrup at the end. Wielded properly, the weapon could fillet a six-inch wide strip of flesh off the entire length of an arm and leave it bare to the bone.
The demon was an expert with it.
Shit. All around, the crowd hushed, leaving only Lena’s scream and the whistle of the chain as it cut the air. Nate dove to the blood-soaked sand and rolled, lashing out with his feet. The razor stirrup slammed into the ground next to Nate’s head as his kick caught his opponent in the knees. The Neethul fell but was up again in an instant.
So was Nate. Before the demon could do a rewind with the chain, Nate slammed into him, knocking them both into the cement retaining wall. Sharp teeth sank into Nate’s shoulder, and son of a bitch, that hurt.
Dimly, through the haze of pain, Nate heard the crowd go ballistic, their chants of, “Kill! Kill! Kill!” buzzing in his ears. His past came down on him in a shroud of memory, and just as it had been all those
years ago, it would be that way again.
With a snarl, he gripped the demon’s head and twisted. The snap of spine was swallowed by the audience’s noise, which became deafening when Nate dropped the body and left it, twitching, on the ground.
Lena was standing a few feet away, her face bruised and pale, one eye blackened and blood trickling from the corner of her swollen mouth. She’d been battered to hell and back, but defiance burned in her eyes. Hate, too, and he didn’t blame her.
Still, she didn’t resist when he took her hand and led her to the gate used to transport both the dead and the living in and out of the arena. The giant iron rack rattled and clanged as it heaved upward, but Nate didn’t have a chance to be grateful that they were being let out.
Fade stood there, flanked by three burly rhino-fiends who worked in the “zoo” one level below, the dark, dank area where fighters and bait creatures were kept. None of them looked happy, Fade least of all.
“Obviously,” Fade rumbled, “you didn’t learn the first time you took a female from me.”
Nate tightened his grip on Lena. “I don’t want to lose a good medic,” he said, even though he knew his excuse was both tired and lame. If it hadn’t worked before, it wouldn’t work now.
Fade knew it too. And he wasn’t going to let slide the fact that Nate had killed two of his most popular fighters. The Neethul twins had been fairly new to the fighting scene, but their good looks and penchant for cruelly toying with their victims had been big draws for the crowds.
“How stupid do you think I am?” Fade signaled to his goons. “Lock them up.” His smile at Nate was pure evil. “Congratulations, Sabine. Once again, you get to watch your female die.”
For about thirty seconds after Fade shut his creepy mouth, Lena was sure Nate was going to explode into violence. After what she’d seen him do to the Neethuls, she knew he was very capable of it. In fact, the tension rose up in him so strongly that she could feel it in a tangible crackle in the inch of air between them and see it in his massively descended fangs and red-glowing eyes. But even as the demons tensed for battle, Nate calmed, almost as if the air had been let out of him.