“Tell me something, Riven,” Ciprian says. He chafes his hands against his upper arms, and his breath crystallizes in the frigid air. “You make a killing—pardon my pun—off thesegames,but the facilities are shit. If you don’t mind pointing me to the suggestion box, I’d love to introduce you to a cool invention called central heat and air.”
Celine’s lips twitch, softening her grim expression. She grabs his hand, and he brings her knuckles to his lips. “I dreamed of you last night, hot wings.”
“Oh?” she purrs. “What was I doing?”
“Dancing. At the Fang, like that time you put on a show for me and Alistair.”
Celine rolls her eyes. “You mean when you two had a dick-measuring contest while I happened to be on stage?”
He gasps. “He was the one who happened to be there. As far as I’m concerned, you were dancing for me alone.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself...”
“Most perfect tits in the universe,” Luca mutters, running his fingers through his hair. “Do you feel good, Celine? You did the stretches, nothing is tight?”
When she glances at him, her brown eyes are soft but focused. “I’m ready.”
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks. There’s no one you can’t beat if you stay calm and play to your strengths.”
Her eyebrows pull together in the middle. “Don’t worry. I won’t put Ali or Malach in danger.”
“I know, baby.” Luca cups her face with both hands and kisses her as if it might be the last time he gets a chance. If S’lach gets his way, it will be.
Ciprian squeezes in close to them, kissing her cheeks, her nose, and her eyelids until she giggles. I should put a stop to it, but I can’t seem to open my mouth.
“No mercy,” he says. “Show them who they’re messing with.”
Celine nods, then glances at me. “Any riddles or tips this time around?” For a second, there was no judgment in her eyes. She looked at me like... Gods, I must stop this. I’m imagining things. Celine hates me as much as Luca does.
“Not today, darling,” I say briskly, hardening my resolve andholding eye contact with her. “The profits will be better if you die.”
Her eyes—open and warm before I spoke—turn hard as stone, and she cracks her knuckles. “Always following the money,” she scoffs. “How could I forget? It’s not personal; it’s business, right?”
I nod briskly. “I’m glad you understand.”
“I don’t,” she says. “And I doubt I ever will. If you see my father, tell him that I’m coming for him. Once I get out of here, he’ll pay for his sins in blood.”
The eyes and hair, even the fierce confidence they wear as a second skin. Celine and S’lach have many similarities and one major difference. He’s cold as ice, and she’s an open flame.
If she gets out of here alive, S’lach might burn.
If it wouldn’t get me killed, I’d love to watch.
It only takes a few minutes to get everyone in place for the fight. Celine is endlessly compliant when I hold the lives of the vampire and the angel over her head.
Bets are placed, and the odds flicker across the ticker. The energy of the crowd is electric. They want blood. Her blood. She’s been the underdog every time she’s stepped onto the sand, but they don’t respect her for it. If anything, they want to see her fall even more.
Celine might die today.
It’s my preferred outcome.
I laugh bitterly. Perhaps if I keep lying to myself, I’ll eventually believe it. Ignoring the churning in my gut, I flip the switch to amplify my voice.
“As you place your bets today, keep in mind the game could change at any time.” I pause for dramatic effect. “We pride ourselves on true entertainment here in the Howling Pit, and that lies in the unexpected.”
Celine studies me impassively, as if we’re the only two peoplein this arena. Her face gives nothing away, but there’s hatred in her eyes. For me. For the situation I’ve put her in.
I’m glad it’s back. She should hate me.
