CHAPTER ONE
In the cage fighting rings of Kheimos, there was only one rule: no magic.
In a city full of Fae where magic was a hard thing to avoid, the restriction leveled the playing field and added tension to the fights.
Deathstalkers wore mouth guards to disarm their venomous bite. Windriders sported nessite-lined cuffs to prevent them from summoning the wind.
And Beastrunners, like Ronin Matakos, were forbidden to shift into their animal forms.
But Ronin wasn’t a stickler for rules. Not anymore.
So when his opponent—a scrawny, but scrappy hyena bi-form named Ned—swiped at his chest with claws extended, Ronin revealed his own much larger, sharper ones.
The referee slammed a fist on the cage. “Against the fucking rules.”
“He doesn’t want to take a chance on these, anyways.” Ronin’s savage smile revealed thick fangs. Ned trembled.
“So are those,” the referee grunted. “Put ‘em away before I end the fight.”
A chorus of boos swelled in the stands. The crowd was out for blood. What did they care how it was spilled?
Retracting his claws and rushing across the ring, Ned’s bare feet splashed in a leftover puddle of viscera as he reared back and smashed his skull into Ronin’s forehead.
Ronin staggered and Ned swung, wearing himself out as fists, feet, elbows, and knees collided in a symphony of grunts and fleshy smacks.
Ned even managed to sneak a bite to Ronin’s neck.
“You trying to fucking mark me, baby?” Ronin ripped his opponent away and threw him against the cage with an echoing clang.
Loosing a mad cackle, Ned scrambled back toward Ronin, who swept his leg out and dropped the other male to the floor.
Ronin pounced.
Locking his knees around Ned’s hips, Ronin lost himself to the euphoric frenzy of knuckles cracking teeth, crushing cartilage, and breaking bone. Blood flew from his fists, soaking the cage as the crowd roared its approval.
Wrath of Vestan, he fuckinglovedthis part. Violence was his favorite high.
Well, top three at least.
Groans burst from the handful of risk-takers daring enough to bet against him, the current champion of the Northern Territories and the perennial odds-on favorite.
The referee called the fight, then strode into the cage to raise Ronin’s wrist and declare him the winner.
The crowd surged to its feet.
“Butcher! Butcher! Butcher!”
A contented growl rumbled through Ronin’s mind.
They call for me,his wolf purred. Let me come out and bask in their glory.
No fucking chance,Ronin grumbled back.
He hadn’t let his beast out in nearly three centuries.
He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
Ronin took in the rapturous crowd, allowing himself a moment to savor their admiration, then ripped his wrist away from the referee and exited the ring.
