“Where are you going?” Spencer called out. “I was just joking, mate!”
Alexander turned and raised an eyebrow. “I need to think. There is only one place I can do that.”
Spencer frowned. “Now? Tonight? But it is our anniversary party!”
Alexander lifted his shoulder. “When an idea strikes it is best to strike back on it. Enjoy your night, brother!”
Spencer shook his head disapprovingly as Alexander bounded out the door and into the night.
CHAPTER 5
Stage Four: Jealousy
Mechanism: Territorial Resource Guarding
Aim: To prove that the “sting” of seeing Subject with another is a primitive reflex to protect a perceived asset.
Method:
Observe emotional response to perceived competition.
Compare to reactions in non-romantic resource threats.
Expected Conclusion: Possession, not affection.
The smell of sweat and blood hit Alexander, making his shoulders instantly relax. Grunts and groans were coming from further within the crowd where two boxing rings were outlined in the underground training club. Not many people ventured tothis part of town in the daytime, let alone at night, which was fine with him.
The Iron Pit was like a second home to him. While practicing boxing wasn’t illegal, official matches were, which was why when he happened upon this specific boxing arena he was thrilled. Rosalind and Spencer had shown their displeasure over his pastime, but he was drawn to it. He could not explain why. It would take too much time to unravel that string, so he simply enjoyed the rush of taking his aggression out on his opponents.
“Aye, is it the Scarlet Duke I see?”
Alexander turned to see a rotund man with his signature cigar hanging from his mouth.
“Johnson! Got anyone for me tonight? I am feeling a bit wound up this evening.” Alexander rolled his neck.
Johnson chuckled. “I have a few lads that need to be knocked down a peg or two. You interested?”
Johnson was in charge of the Iron Pit when the boss, Rowan Hale, was not around. Alexander mulled it over. He was looking for a challenge, someone who would push him past his limits.
“Anyone else?”
Johnson looked down at the paper in his hands. He flicked it with his finger. “Ah. Yes, I do. The Frenchman, Duc d’Orlèans, is here, tonight.”
Alexander’s eyes brightened. He remembered the wiry man at the masquerade and how his hungry eyes had roved over the sorceress’s body.
Miss Dowell.
The thought of her made his blood hot.
Duc d’Orlèans was a notorious fighter because he was quick on his feet and his hands moved faster than most. Fortunately, he was not as fast as Alexander. Rowan had mentored him well.
