Page 2 of Nicolette

The dwarf grunted, making his long mustache flutter at the force. “Bunch of drunken assholes who keep eating all the peanuts and not tipping.”

“So pretty normal,” I teased.

He slammed the shot glass filled with a blue liquid in front of me. “Drink your damn siren’s tears and get the fuck to the ring. You know Master doesn’t like it when you drink before a fight.”

“Did you hear he’s decided that I’m fighting a Supe tonight?” I asked, grabbing my glass and tossing it back.

The liquor hit me like a punch to the gut, like I was getting dragged under the ocean’s waves, but then the euphoric feeling of floating quickly followed. Closing my eyes, I clung to that feeling, desperate to remember those moments of feeling free and safe. Then as with real sirens, the illusion fell away, returning me to the reality of the world around me. I let out a sigh and shoved the glass forward for Nomolin.

“Nic,” he said in a low voice full of worry. “If you survive tonight, he’s already said you’ll be fighting a ghoul tomorrow.”

That information had me freezing in place. “What?”

“Is there any way you can throw this fight? Do they all have to be a fight to the death?” Nomolin pressed. “You can’t win tonight. If you do, then you’ll be welcoming death tomorrow.”

Unsettled, I dropped my head into my hands, trying to process the reality of what Nomolin was saying.

How could LC do this to me? A motherfucking ghoul?

Those mindless monsters created from traumatic deaths that haunted cemeteries were no joke. Even other Supes had a hard time killing them, and I was just a fucking human. Had I done something to piss LC off? Was this his final threat to get me to sleep with him?

Fuck… it just might work.

“Swurve,” Dregu yelled at me, grabbing one of my braids and yanking my head back. “Get your shit together, or I’m gonna tell the boss you were drinking.”

Slapping him off me with a growl, I hopped off the stool. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me like that again. You do, and I’ll rip your tiny dick right off you.”

Dregu snarled, bearing his teeth. “You forget yourself, human.”

“Nah, just don’t like having my hair pulled if you’re not fucking me, and that’s not ever happening for you,” I spat, then shoved past him toward the fighting ring surrounded by chain-link fencing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted two men who’d started to move, planning to intervene in the situation with Dregu. I’d seen them around the past few months. It was hard not to notice a guy that hot, but when there’s a carbon copy standing right next to them—you don’t forget. They stopped once I’d started to walk away but watched me with twin sets of blue eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time someone believed I needed to be saved from this life. The problem was no one could save me. I got myself into this mess. I’d figure a way to get out.

“Up next, we have a match with our very own Wonder Woman,” the announcer said over the speaker system. “The shadow you never see coming until death is upon you. A human with reflexes faster than any I’ve seen before, earning her the name Swurve Reaper!”

God, that fucking name. It just made me groan every single time I heard it. I’d had no choice in the matter. LC said it was what the spectators decided to call me, and it stuck. Many people just called me Swurve, which wasn’t as bad but still not what I would have picked.

Jogging up the steps to the ring, I headed for the announcer, who grabbed my arm and thrust it into the air, causing the crowd to lose their goddamn mind.

After my introduction, I set over to my corner, where my coach, Gavin, was waiting for me on the other side of the fence. “Cutting it close, aren’t we, Nic?”

“You know me, living life on the edge,” I muttered as I took my mouthguard from him and put it in.

“All right, your first fight is against Battering Ram,” Gavin shared.

I burst out laughing, but Gavin gave me a disapproving look that made me pull myself together. “Seriously, Gav, who the fuck comes up with these names?”

“He got it because he hits so hard it’s like a battering ram. Nic, if he lands a blow on you, it’s gonna fucking hurt,” Gavin warned.

“So I just have to stay out of his way and end this as fast as I can. Shouldn’t be a problem, guys that big tend to move a lot slower,” I pointed out.

Gavin didn’t look convinced by my plan but didn’t push me. He knew the more I was told I couldn’t do something, the more it drove me to prove them wrong. “Be smart, Nic. That twisted little fucker’s got something up his sleeve tonight, and I don’t like it one bit. He didn’t tell me who your last fight’s going to be with, which tells me it’s not gonna be good.”

“You worry too much, Gav. Let me deal with this fucker, and we’ll grab a drink to calm your nerves,” I suggested.

Gavin lovingly flipped me the bird as the announcer started to drone on and on about my opponent. Apparently, he was a big deal in this city, and lots of the spectators knew who he was too. The shouting and hollering of, “Smash it. Smash it. Bring on the Battering Ram,” was going to get stuck in my head for the rest of the night. I just knew it.

When the man himself stepped into the ring, I realized why Gavin had been so worried. There was no fucking way that man could be fully human. The fucker had to be over seven feet tall with arms and legs chiseled out of stone. They held so much muscle. If I was a betting woman, which I wasn’t, I’d bet my life savings this asshole had giant somewhere in his family tree. That or the man drank steroids like water to get that buff. It wasn’t natural. His hands looked like meat tenderizers balled up into fists. One solid hit and I wouldn’t just be bruised for days—I’d be fucking dead.