Harlow had stood facing the sun for a reason. She’d always been complimented on her looks. She was naturally thin and enjoyed staying fit, and her caramel-colored hair and amber-hazel eyes were rare in a dragon female. Eye-catching, she’d been told. But she knew her wings were something dragon males found extremely erotic. Every one of her past partners had mentioned them. They were gold with flecks of deep amber the same color as her eyes. Her scales reflected a spattering of light around her as she stretched them out to her sides.
Now who was ogling whom? His eyes widened and his mouth gaped.
She scoffed. “See something you like?”
“Something I’d like to strangle,” he said under his breath.
Avery cleared her throat to get their attention. “The rules are simple. There are two ways to win. The first is to knock your opponent out or injure them to the point they cannot rise from the ground within ten seconds. The second is to force them from the ring and keep them outside the boundary for ten seconds.” She pointed at a dark ridge of wood that circled them, about three feet from the edge of the ring. “No beheadings. Excessive use of talons near the neck area may result in a disqualification. All other moves are permitted.”
The same rules as always. No surprises.
“At your ready…” Avery raised a red flag.
Harlow tipped onto the balls of her feet, bent her knees, and raised her hands and her wings. Fighting stance. Marius did the same. She noticed immediately that he was favoring his left leg. It was slight, but she picked up on the subtle imbalance. She could use that.
Avery released the flag. “Fight!”
Chapter Six
Marius didn’t want to hit her. On the contrary, he desperately wanted to fuck her. His dragon had taken one look at those golden wings and rushed against his skin. He wondered if they’d feel as silky as they looked. A vision of her above him filled his mind, those wings like a sunrise, her full breasts bouncing with his thrusts, her luscious red mouth—
Pow.
Her right hook landed against his left cheek with such force he spun around and skidded face-first into the pebbles. Ouch.
“Just stay down, Marius,” she said. “We can end this now and start training tomorrow. My fee is a mere hundred dragmars per day. I can make you a champion.”
He narrowed his eyes. Was that laughter he heard in her voice? By the Mountain, it was. He’d love to spend more time with Harlow, but not like this. Not… emasculated. He wanted her respect, not her pity.
“Six… five…” Avery’s voice counted down in the background.
With one beat of his wings, Marius lifted from the ground and spun toward Harlow, avoiding the kick she’d thrown and dipping low to jab toward her gut. She spun out of the way, skimming along the side of his arm while yanking his wrist forward, setting him off-balance. At the same time, her leg swept into his right knee.
Fuck. He tumbled forward, tucked in his wings, and somersaulted across the ring. He caught himself just short of out of bounds. Popping off the gravel, he turned toward her again. He circled at the outer boundary, watching her now as he would a true competitor. She was good. Really good. He could dismiss that first hit as a lucky blow. He’d been distracted. His fault. But that last move was a sophisticated counterattack. Not only had she seen through his fake and avoided his blow, she’d used his momentum against him and successfully targeted his strong side. Which meant she’d detected the slight imbalance in his gait.
She, however, had no such imbalance. She practically floated over the gravel, her hips low and even. She looked ready for anything.
He surged forward, faked an uppercut with his right and hooked his left toward her head. It was like he was moving in slow motion. She bent backward, her wings flaring parallel to the ground, and his punch landed harmlessly in the air above her. She snatched his arm and kicked up into his gut with her right foot, throwing him over her head. He somersaulted again, scrambling to his feet in time to see her recover like she was a puppet on strings. Her back had almost brushed the ground, and somehow, despite throwing his superior weight, she hadn’t fallen. She was ready again, watching him like a hungry predator.
Narrowing his eyes, he analyzed her stance, her prior moves. As he circled her, it was clear she was attempting to keep a gap between them. He had the longer reach. He had the size advantage. Clearly, her strategy was to use her slighter and more agile frame to dodge his attacks and strike while he was off-balance. But her strikes weren’t as powerful as his, and she was half his size and less than half his weight. If he wanted to win this, he’d have to get in close and keep her there.
He rushed in. She tried to dodge, but he caught the talon of her wing with his. She landed a blow to his gut. He absorbed the pain and used her position to lock his other wing with hers. Unable to pull away, she let her feet dance between his, alternating between his ankles and his knees. Goddess, she was good. She successfully tripped him twice, but because he was locked with her, when she righted herself, she righted him as well.
He punched into her sides, her face. This time, he didn’t hold back. She blocked every blow, but he could tell she was tiring. This type of close fighting could drain even the best fighters. She twisted and stomped, but he used his larger talons and size advantage to keep her entwined with him. If he went down, she would too.
He saw the moment that very idea sparked behind her eyes. Her arms locked around his neck, her legs around his hips, and she fell backward.
Marius instinctively broke their fall with his elbows, not wanting to crush her no matter how badly he wanted to win. He lowered her softly to the gravel and settled between her thighs, hard as a rock in an instant. Their gazes locked. Her lips were so close he could taste her breath. She softened beneath him, her fingers digging into the back of his hair in a way that was nothing short of carnal. He lowered his lips toward hers.
“Seven… six…”
With a powerful thrust of her hips and wings, she flipped him onto his back, straddled him, and pinned his wrists beside his head. Her golden eyes twinkled in the afternoon light. He started to resist. He could easily flip her back. But she ground her hips against his. With one subtle tuck, she rubbed along his cock, and the hard tips of her breasts brushed his bare chest. And just like that, all his will to win leaked out and soaked into the ground like spilled wine. His inner dragon stretched languorously, hoping for a belly rub.
He could move. He could win. But goddess, he had no desire to. Was that feral heat flashing in her eyes? He slanted her a languid, wolfish grin and raised his hips to grind against her.
“Ten!”
She was off him in a heartbeat, arms raised. She jumped into the air, whooping her victory. He frowned and tried to imagine an icy bath to cool his throbbing erection.
