“First round,” the announcer started. “Fallen Angel versus Cyclops in fight square one. The Bishop versus Viper in the fight square two. Sushi versus Anaconda in the third square. Sam versus Magic Hands in the fourth. Fighters, make your way to your assigned squares now.”
Rafe and Jordan were both fighting in the first round, and not near each other either, so I’d be running back and forth like a crazy person trying to see them both. “Be careful,” I whispered.
Jordan grabbed my right hand, Rafe the other, and both of them held on for a few seconds. When we were together like this, everything so perfect, it made me feel like we could do this. We could make our weird trio work. I was just a chick dating two dudes, and that was okay, right?
Modern independent woman. In love with two princes.
A much better fairy tale, if you asked me.
“See you in five minutes,” Rafe said, his confidence at peak as always. Jordan just laughed before they both headed to their fights. Once everyone was in their square, the announcer kicked off the first round.
I’d seen Rafe fight many times, and I had no doubt that Cyclops, with his one stupid, fucking “eye” cut out of his mask, was going to be nothing more than blood and guts in less than the five minutes Rafe had predicted. With that in mind, I decided to watch Jordan’s fight this round.
I’d never seen Sushi in action, so I pushed my way right to the front, needing to be as close as possible to the magic. Fuck, this was my aphrodisiac. Fighting, being around fighting, watching hot dudes fight. Sign me up for life.
For some reason I’d expected Jordan to be a sword man—maybe a samurai sword or even short blades—but he shocked me when he pulled out a set of nunchakus. That was not a discipline I’d ever really learned, outside of using them to increase my hand speed and coordination. It was not the easiest weapon to handle, and I was excited as fuck to see what Jordan could do with them.
His opponent, Anaconda, didn’t have any weapons outside of studded brass knuckles, and he eyed the prince warily. Jordan held his weapon in both hands, and then in almost slow motion, let one side fall, the metal glinting off the low lights in here.
It looked like his sticks were custom made, a mixture of wood and metal with some lethal-looking spikes across the tips. The moment Jordan started to swing them around, getting faster and faster until his hands and the weapons were nothing but blurs, was the moment I knew his opponent was going to forfeit this match.
No one, unless you were skilled beyond fuck, would go up against Sushi. And Anaconda, who’d brought brass knuckles to a nunchaku fight, was definitely not skilled.
Jordan moved with startling speed, twisting his body as he struck. The stick in his right hand cracked Anaconda across the arm, eliciting a yelp from the fighter.
That was followed with a quick, “I yield!”
“Anaconda yields,” the announcer shouted, “and is henceforth banished from fighting again tonight. Sushi is the winner in square three.”
Not one minute later… “Fallen Angel is the winner with a knockout punch in square one. Cyclops is done for the night.”
Jordan and Rafe both rejoined me on the other side of the fight squares; neither of them had even broken a sweat. “One minute,” Jordan teased Rafe. “How long were you?”
Rafe just shook his head. “Let’s see who is fastest in round two.”
I leaned in closer to Jordan, my heart still pounding hard, even though I’d barely seen him fight. “You are so getting lucky tonight,” I whispered, desperate to drag him out of here so he could put those magic hands to good fucking use.
His eyes darkened until they were near black, and I swallowed hard as he pressed me back into the wall we were near. “If we didn’t have another fight,” he murmured, leaning down so our faces were close, “I’d be hauling your ass to our room.”
The announcer's voice droned on in the background, but I totally missed it because blood was rushing in my ears—not to mention heat pooling in my center.
“Violence is up,” Rafe said, sounding amused as he broke us up. “Square three.”
Neither Jordan nor Rafe had been called this round, so they followed me over and stood on the east side while I climbed into the ring, shed my black robes, and handed them back to Rafe. My sword was in the special scabbard I had for it, so I pulled it free, removed the belt, and handed that back as well.
I had no idea who my opponent was, but that didn’t really matter since I had no prior knowledge of almost any fighter here. I’d only seen a few, and of those, none posed a threat to me.
A male stepped into the ring, or more accurately, was halfway through climbing into the square, when a huge shadow loomed over him and yanked him backward. A blade sliced across my opponent’s throat in a split second, and I blinked wondering what the fuck had just happened.
Before I could blink again, the murderous shadow leaped gracefully into the square with me, and I caught sight of his blade—a katana that was very similar to my wakizashi, except for the length of blade. As a larger and stronger fighter, Uriel preferred that length, whereas I was more comfortable with my weapon.
“Security!” Rafe shouted. “This man is a wanted terrorist! Arrest him.”
Uriel ignored the prince, smiling directly at me. His lips and eyes were the only things visible beneath his traditional fighting garb, and it was enough for me to see that he was not going anywhere. “Are you afraid to fight me, Rose?”
His words struck a chord deep inside me. I had been afraid my whole life of going up against my sensei, but while Uriel hadn’t seemed to move on from who I used to be two years ago, I was a very different person now.
Now I felt strong and supported. Now I would do whatever it took to keep my life safe, just as it was today.
