It seeped into him and saturated his being. A shuddering breath wracked his body, a momentary touch of sheer, overwhelming feelings, once again gone too fast.
There, in the center of the floor, spotlighted with daylight intensity bulbs, stood a thirty-foot circular, steel mesh cage, four feet above the ground. The thinly padded bars were a mockery at safety. He ought to know. Inside, two males fought, the thud of fists striking flesh echoing in the quiet.
Blaéz scanned the crowd, keeping to the edges. His skin prickled with a familiar itch. His babysitter had arrived. Maybe he’d have cursed if he gave a damn. He didn’t. If Michael thought to send Dagan to babysit him, they were wasting their time. Not like their leader could kick Blaéz out of his job as a Guardian.
As a warrior of Gaia, he remained as such for eternity, no matter what he did to himself. This was his great life; to protect this fragile species that didn’t give a rat’s furry arse about the dangers of the activities they pursued. Like fighting for money in this hellhole.
On the upside, the fact the fights had no rules suited him. Brutal. Deadly. Precisely how he preferred his fights.
A body hit the cage bars hard, making them shudder.
A bald, tattooed, heavy-set demon with beefy arms and thighs pounded a human foolish enough to be trapped with him.
Demons lived among mortals on this realm, and while most preferred a quiet life, there were those ones drawn to these brutal activities. They never lost a fight, unlessheshowed up. But recently, he didn’t care about the wins, cared only for what the fights gave him—a way to fill the emptiness inside and stop the voices from completely pulling him down under.
As the cheers grew, Blaéz narrowed his eyes, his mind registering something else.
The demon fought not a full grown male, but a teen—a boy, too tall and too foolish for his own good. The demon hammered the lad. Chances were he wouldn’t last long.
Another vicious punch and the boy went flying back, crashing into the bars again. A pained grunt escaped him. He pushed up, holding his arm at an awkward angle. Blood gushed from his nose. Two minutes tops, Blaéz wagered, before the lad went horizontal. The kid was going to be in a body cast for the next couple of months…if he were that lucky.
Blaéz usually preferred the last fight. Then he could go to the castle and crash in his quarters. No dreams, no voices, just unending pain that kept him locked in place.
A familiar brush of potent power—though tamped down—zinged him. Followed by a tinge of annoyance. Humans wouldn’t sense the approaching male, but Blaéz sure did.
“Get him outta there.”
At the direct order, Blaéz glanced at the stone-cold features of the Guardians’ leader.
Aviator shades concealed eyes Michael never revealed to mortals. Ebony strands escaped his haphazardly tied hair and hung around his unshaven jaw. Clad in black jeans and a faded black tee with ripped-off sleeves, his biceps bulged as he folded his arms over a wide chest, his attention on the fight.
None would suspect an all-powerful archangel stood among them. With his roughed up biker appearance, he appeared in dire need of some serious crib downtime.
Blaéz turned back to the fight. “Why? He chose this.”
“You’re a slip away from going off rotation and into a session with Lore,” Michael warned, his tone flat.
At mention of the pain-in-the-arse angel, who probably waited to poke into their heads, Blaéz got moving. Psychobabble bullshit wasn’t his deal. As if he’d ever spew out his life story to anyone. He pushed through the masses and headed toward the cage. A touch of his hand and the door unlocked and squeaked opened. The roars of excitement rocked the arena when the crowd spotted him. Their chants grew,“Kill him, Warrior. Kill him. Kill the Demolisher!”
Warrior? Yes, that’s what he was. A warrior of Gaia’s and an unacknowledged champion of these foolish, bloodthirsty mortals. And to think he had to protect them.
The demon grinned, recognizing him. “You want to take me on,warrior?”
Blaéz ignored the derision as he pulled off his tee and tossed it aside. If Michael wanted him to save the lad, then it would be on his terms. It was the reason he was here anyway.
He glanced at the boy on the cement floor, sliding in and out of consciousness. Swollen eyes flickered open and suddenly widened, darting behind Blaéz. His mouth worked, but only a garbled sound escaped.
Blaéz didn’t need the warning, his senses tuned to the demon that came at him like a Mack truck. He sidestepped, spun around, and elbowed him in the belly. A brutal kick followed, the force sending the Demolisher flying into the bars. The cage shuddered. The crowd cheers amplified. Furious, the demon shot up.
“Seriously?” Blaéz taunted. “Did you learn nothing yet? I’m going wipe the floor with your arse.”
It was all he needed, a trigger, and the demon rushed him like a mad bull. He head-butted Blaéz in the abs, knocked the air flat out of his lungs. Blaéz wheezed. Blessed pain sang through his gut. Good thing, he didn’t have to hold back his punches with this piece of crap. He went in hard so he’d get all the pounding he wanted…
Time passed. Blaéz had no idea how much, only knew he was in a shitload of agony. And he was losing, his mind gone a thick, hazy red. Maybe this way he could blank out his personal hell, too. The innocent lives he’d taken. The punishment he’d meted out, only to do it all over again in a never-ending cycle.
Rip open his belly, you’ll get more of what you crave…
Blaéz shook his head at the sly voices prodding him. Hewantedto hurt, heneededpain.
