The bond between them thrummed with quiet intimacy as Philadelphia's skyline came into view, and Adrian found himself thinking that maybe—just maybe—this was what being mated was supposed to feel like.
The parking garage at the Philadelphia Convention Center stretched endlessly in both directions, concrete pillars casting harsh shadows under fluorescent lights. Adrian guided his truck into a space near the elevator bank, the engine's rumble echoing off the low ceiling before settling into silence.
Neither of them moved immediately. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down like a physical force—hundreds of competitors, thousands of spectators, and somewhere in that crowd, pride members who would be watching every move Adrian and Riley made. Judging whether their acting Alpha and his mate possessed the strength to lead them into the future.
Adrian's hands remained locked around the steering wheel. Through their mate bond, he felt Riley's own nerves—sharper than his but tempered with the kind of focused determination that came from years of professional competition. She understood pressure in ways he was only beginning to appreciate.
"Ready?" she asked, her voice steady despite the flutter of anticipation he sensed beneath her calm exterior.
He nodded once, releasing his grip on the wheel. "Ready."
The moment they stepped out of the truck, Adrian's protective instincts slammed into overdrive with brutal intensity. The parking garage might have been empty, but beyond those elevator doors waited a building full of alpha males—fighters, coaches, sponsors—all of whom would see Riley and want something from her. Her attention, her time, her body.
The thought of other men looking at his mate with anything resembling hunger made his tiger pace restlessly, claws threatening to emerge. Every possessive instinct roared to life as he rounded the truck to Riley's side.
She laughed as they walked toward the elevators, the sound echoing off concrete walls. "Easy there. Your protectiveness is bleeding through the bond so intensely I can barely think straight."
Heat crept up his neck. "Sorry. I just want to keep you safe."
"I'm perfectly fine," Riley said, pressing the elevator call button. "I've been in this environment more times than I can count. I can handle myself."
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Adrian followed her inside, his body automatically positioning itself between her and the opening. "I know you can handle yourself. But that doesn't mean I don't want to stay close."
And mark my territory, his tiger added silently, but Adrian kept that particular thought to himself.
The ride to the main floor passed in tense silence, both of them lost in their own preparations. Adrian could feel Riley's mind shifting gears, her focus narrowing to that laser-sharp concentration he'd witnessed during their training sessions. It was mesmerizing to experience secondhand through their bond—the way she compartmentalized everything except the fight ahead.
When the elevator doors opened onto the convention center's main concourse, the assault on Adrian's senses was immediate and overwhelming. Hundreds of voices created a constant buzz of conversation, punctuated by the sharp crack of gloves hitting pads from the various warm-up areas. The scent of sweat, adrenaline, and too many bodies in one space made his tiger bristle with territorial aggression.
But it was the way every head turned toward Riley that made his jaw clench with barely restrained violence.
She moved through the crowd with the easy confidence of someone who belonged here, her gear bag slung over one shoulder, but Adrian could see the recognition rippling through the gathered fighters and spectators like wildfire. Whispers followed in their wake, phones appeared as people tried to get pictures, and more than one male competitor tracked Riley's movement with the kind of predatory interest that made Adrian's vision flash gold.
"Riley Vaughn! Is that really her?"
"Three-time national champion?—"
"Did you see her last fight? Absolutely destroyed that girl from Texas."
The attention should have made him proud. His mate was a celebrated champion, respected and admired throughout the kickboxing world. Instead, all Adrian could think about was creating a barrier between Riley and every other person in this building.
At the check-in counter, a harried volunteer with a clipboard looked up and immediately brightened. "Riley! We've been waiting for you. You're number seven in the women's division, first match of the day."
Riley accepted her competitor number and weigh-in paperwork with professional efficiency. "Thanks, John. This is Adrian Kael—he's competing in the men's heavyweight division."
John's eyes widened slightly as he took in Adrian's imposing frame. "First time competing, Mr. Kael?"
"Yes."
The single word carried enough weight that John simply nodded and handed over Adrian's paperwork without further comment. Number fifteen.
"Perfect slotting," Riley said as they moved away from the check-in table. "You'll be able to watch me compete before you have to get ready."
Relief flooded through him at her words. The thought of being separated from her while she fought had been eating at him since they'd entered the building. Now he could stay close, offer his support, and make sure every other male in the vicinity understood exactly who Riley belonged to now.
The crowd around them had only grown thicker, and Adrian found himself unconsciously moving closer to Riley's side as sponsors and fans approached for autographs and photos. She handled each interaction with gracious professionalism, but he could feel the drain it created through their bond—the constant demand for her attention when she needed to be focusing on her upcoming fight.
His protective instincts spiked higher with each interruption, his tiger demanding he shield her from the overwhelming attention. When a particularly aggressive fan tried to grab herarm, Adrian stepped forward with enough menace that the man immediately backed away.
