So, I’d adapt. Watch. Wait. Learn her rhythm. Learn theirs.
Because no matter who else thought they had a claim, in the end, she’d be mine. My mate.
One way or another.
With Nova’s attention locked on the fight, I didn’t fully register the heat of someone’s glare until I turned away. I found a set of turquoise eyes staring at me. Zeth. His cutting stare sent a message, clear and simple.Go away. Leave her alone. She’s mine.
I met his look with a slow, knowing smile, my eyes flicking to Nova’s before finding his again. Then I let my tongue drag across a fang, giving my unspoken response.I’m not going anywhere.
His nostrils flared, lip curling just enough to flash teeth. The expression was pure animal, almost feral. He might be a demon, but that man had been raised by wolves. Unfortunately for him, if that was supposed to scare me, he needed to take more lessons from Nova. Now,herglare could skin a man alive.
The crowd roared as the fight officially began, but it was just distant thunder beneath the silent war between Zeth and me. No words. Just tension thick enough to choke on. Every breath, every subtle twitch of muscle, was another round in our private brawl.
Now and then, I caught movement from behind. Nick’s eyes flicked toward Nova, then back to the ring, a quiet shake of his head following. He wasn’t a threat, not yet. Just another moth circling her flame.
A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd, breaking our stare-off. My gaze snapped back to the ring just as a massive sepia-skinned fighter with long braids twisted midair, bones cracking and reshaping until a black jaguar the size of a horse landed on padded feet. The lines of shimmering magic stayed on his fur, marking him as a fae shifter.
The shifter lunged, sinking his fangs into a vampire’s forearm before the strike could land. With a brutal twist, he flung the bloodsucker across the mat like a discarded toy.
So, that was Deslen Tacnon. I’d heard the name whispered among the underground circuits. Fast, brutal, untouchable. Seeing him now? I could tell why the whispers seemed to chant his name. He was a cloud of shadow wrapped in muscle and fury. A rare species, too.
Too proud and too protective of their shrinking lands, most jaguar shifters didn’t cross over from Faerie. Their kind loved fiercely, fought harder, and birthed rarely. To see one here was a sight worth the price of admission alone.
Across from him, Copland Banner, the reigning vampire heavyweight, looked almost mortal by comparison. His jabs were quick, his footwork sharper than most, but Deslen danced through his blows like smoke, turning defense into art, his counters precise and devastating.
Beside me, Nova leaned forward, eyes lit with feral excitement as blood splattered across the mat when one of Deslen's uppercuts connected. Her lips curved, the gold in her gaze burning bright. With every blow that landed, I could hear her pulse thump faster, couldseeit against her skin. Watching her thrive in the chaos was addictive, so much so that I didn’t even realize he’d delivered the final strike until the crowd erupted, bodies surging to their feet in a collective roar.
Deslen stood victorious, the vampire sprawled at his feet, unconscious. The announcer’s voice boomed, declaring him the winner by knockout. I barely heard it, too busy watching the reflection of the fight still flickering in Nova’s eyes.
Then Deslen took the mic.
“I dedicate this fight to you!” he roared, his accent thick and rich as his finger pointed straight at Nova. A hush fell over the crowd. “I’ve finally found you! My mate. The woman I’ll marry! This win, and every win to come, belongs to you!”
Every head turned toward her, and my gut sank. Oh,hell.
Nova froze, her eyes narrowed into slits before she rose up out of her chair. Her body trembled as her right fist clenched. Powercoiled around her skin, and you could almost see the bones starting to bend as the atmosphere bent away from her heat.
Her voice became lethal. “Who thefuckdo you think you are to say that to me?”
Oh, shit.This was about to get messy.
* Haunt Me by Bryce Savage
21
NOVA
The second my eyes locked on Deslen Tacnon, strutting around the ring to his hype song before the fight, something in me bristled. It wasn’t awe or curiosity; it was a warning. Pressure, low in my gut, coiled tighter with every step he took. I didn’t know why, but I could feel it building like static before lightning hit. Something was off. Something was about to break.
When he climbed through the ropes and came closer, my wrist burned, a familiar flare, but I told myself it was nothing, just my proximity to Conrad, Nick, Zeth. They’d all triggered it before, but this burn came on sharp and fast, becoming vicious in seconds.
Heat spread under my skin like wildfire, crawling up my arm until I had to clench my jaw to keep from wincing. I rubbed it, pretending to fix my watch, pretending I wasn’t one second away from tearing at my skin just to make it stop.
The itch deepened as the heat climbed higher. For one wild heartbeat, I thought I might actually lose control, but I refused to let anyone see that. Not the cameras, not the fighters, not the world, so my face stayed calm and my hands steady whileevery nerve inside me screamed. Tonight had to go perfectly. I wouldn’t let some stranger’s presence throw me off balance.
Watching him fight made some of the tension ease as I got lost in his movements. The way his body bent and moved was so fluid, so graceful. I knew right then and there I had to have him for my ring.
I could see it all now—the contracts, the promotions, the endorsements. We could call himThe Midnight Jaguar.Even his damn nickname sounded like profit. That was all I needed him to be—marketable. Useful. Not… whatever my wrist was trying to tell me.
