Submit. I snarled, and he howled as his arm twisted and popped, but he didn’t yield.
Submit.
I tasted blood in my mouth. My hands ached as they smashed into solid flesh.
Submit.
He was pathetic, whimpering now, scrabbling at the ground in desperation.
Submit.
Finally, after what felt like forever, my opponent went limp, his scent changing from challenge to defeat. I swung my head around, panting, wondering if there was another threat. There was the roar of a crowd, and over that, an announcer. No people I could see. Just metal bars and bright lights. I breathed in, absorbing the traces of scents filtering down from above.
None seemed like a challenge. The pounding in my head and veins had faded slightly, and I wrestled for control of myself. I blinked the blood and sweat out of my eyes as I took in my surroundings. My mind felt full of mud, but there was something important to remember. I dredged up the thought with some difficulty.
My pack.
My omega.
Through my haze, I blinked up into the lights above me until I could make out glimpses of the room beyond. And in the glittering box far, far above me was a crimson figure crowned in gold.
Her.
But the bond with her was faint, and through it, she wasn’t happy. She wasn’t pleased. A whine escaped me.
I’d just won.
Didn’t she know that?
I turned and stalked back to my fallen opponent, but that didn’t change anything.
With a grunt, I picked up his body and held it high over my head.
The roars in the room got louder, echoing down into the pit, but I stared up to the top, eyes locking in on my omega again. I shifted, lifting my opponent higher, showing her what I’d done.
And finally, I got something different though the bond. Something like surprise and affection. She was pleased.
Hmm.
She was supposed to be proud and extremely aroused, but I supposed affection was better than nothing. I’d take it.
FORTY-ONE
FINCH
I had not been prepared for watching Ocean fight in that ring.
Or watching whatever had taken over Ocean’s body fight in that ring.
The bond had blown wide open as soon as the rofetamine had taken over, and I’d had to slam my side shut. Laurel had dropped her glass and gone white as a sheet, excusing herself. Running away so she didn’t have to watch Ocean as he almost tore his opponent's arm from its socket.
Blood dripped down his face from a nasty gash.
My chest was heavy with agony. All I could think of were the last words we’d spoken.
Our fight.
I’d never apologized for lashing out at him.
