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Chapter 45

B. Were vs. The Optometrist

Klaus

Even though I’d seen Brian completely naked hundreds upon hundreds of times—in fact, I insisted on it at least once a day—I was beyond excited for the opportunity to openly stare at him in those tiny, pale blue briefs he wore to perform.

Honestly, some wrestlers wore the sluttiest outfits. My respect for the sport had increased dramatically once I’d realised that.

I was finally back at Goliaths to watch Brian wrestle, and I couldn’t wait. It’d been a long time coming. I tended to work on the nights Brian had shows, which was usually great for us because it meant we got to spend our free evenings together, but it also meant I hadn’t been able to come and watch him wrestle yet. Plus, I’d been working a few extra shifts recently to thank Louis for covering for me during my heat at the last minute.

It had been about two months since our joint heat-rut—and more importantly, since we’d said we loved each other—and I still couldn’t believe this was my life now. I loved him more and more every day. I loved him so much that I just wanted to scream it at random people. At anyone. Everyone. I never did, obviously, but sometimes I couldn’t stop myself from proudly telling strangers—coffee shop workers, grocery store cashiers, restaurant servers—that I had a boyfriend called Brian who I loved more than anything. They were usually a little confused, but tended to just congratulate me politely and walk away.

I was currently sitting in the stands of the Goliaths arena, waiting for the next match to begin, which was Brian’s. I’d already got to see a gorgeous phantom called La Dame Blanche wrestle an equally gorgeous banshee called The Silent Scream, and it had been so much fun. But I was especially looking forward to seeing Brian after his match. He’d gotten me a backstage pass, which meant I’d be meeting him behind the scenes soon.

Not that there was actually any kind of physical pass. He’d just said, “Yeah, of course you can come backstage.” I assumed that meant the boss, Holt, had said it was okay.

I also assumed that meant he had no idea I’d called him a hussy that one time. I mean, I knew he didn’t, because Brian wouldn’t ever tell him, but it was still a relief to know the Goliaths manager didn’t hate me for some unknown reason anyway.

My leg bounced restlessly as I waited for the next match to start. I couldn’t wait to see Brian in all his B. Were glory. I’d never actually seen him wrestle here, I’d just met him at that meet and greet before.

I already knew he was going to be utterly magnificent.

The crowd here was a great mix of supernaturals. Everyone was in high spirits too, laughing and talking as we waited for the next match to begin. There was a ghoul sitting in the row in front of me, a few seats down. I noticed a couple of white cardboard signs resting between her legs and absently leaned forward to peer at them, trying to read what the one facing me said.

My nostrils flared and my spine snapped straight when I finally managed to make out the words.

B. WERE, WILL YOU B. WEAR MY RING? it said in big, bold letters, with a crude drawing of an engagement ring underneath.

I beg your fucking pardon?

I narrowed my eyes at her and didn’t look away, watching her every move until the commentator’s voice over the sound system made me reluctantly drag my gaze back toward the arena.

“Are we ready, folks?”

The audience screamed. The ghoul lady in front excitedly smacked her friend on the leg, bouncing in her seat. My lip curled. Well, apparently she was extra excited for my werewolf boyfriend’s match. Interesting. That was fine. Obviously it was fine. He had to have fans. So it was fine.

The interim music dropped to a lower volume, and the crowd went quiet in anticipation. Then the commentator spoke again.

“Making his way into the ring, weighing in at three-hundred-and-fifty pounds…” He paused to increase the tension. “You don’t want to come across this wolf when he’s hungry! It’s Beeeee… Weeeeeere!”

My heart leaped with excitement, and I sat up taller in my seat when the double doors at the end of one of the two walkways flew open with a billow of icy blue smoke. Then the hulking figure of a werewolf appeared in the fog, tall and wide-shouldered with a narrow waist and tree trunk thighs. My belly dipped with arousal at just the outline of him. Lucifer, my man was sexy.

My eyes tracked him greedily as he stalked up the walkway to the spotlit ring dominating the centre of the arena. A little shiver of lust went up my spine at the ferocious roar he let out, so loud it was clearly audible even over the relentless screaming of the audience around me.

Oooh, yes. I liked this version of Brian. B. Were, the fierce and snarling werewolf wrestler. In his slutty little briefs. This version of Brian was going to be fucking me in his bed later tonight, that was for sure. I’d be insisting on it.

The ghoul lady just in front snatched up her atrocious sign and jumped to her feet to wave it in the air. I resisted the urge to leap over the seats in front and grab it so I could snap it in half over my knee, then drop-kick the pieces across the arena.

It didn’t matter anyway, because when Brian vaulted the ropes and landed in the ring with a floor-shaking boom, his eyes scanned the audience, slid right over ghoul lady and her ridiculous sign, and landed straight on me without any hesitation.

He couldn’t break character, so he didn’t exactly smile, but I saw some form of a smile in his blue eyes. I grinned and waved manically, biting back the urge to loudly tell everyone seated around me that B. Were was my boyfriend.

Soon his opponent came out, an enormous cyclops in equally tiny briefs and a lab coat. They smack-talked for a while, which Brian was so good at. I didn’t want to say it surprised me, because he was an amazing performer, and I knew when he got into the character of B. Were, it was just acting for him.

I’d assumed, after seeing those real fights at Cratos, that the wrestling at Goliaths would look fake to me, but it really didn’t. I found myself genuinely gasping and holding my breath and wanting to yell out for Brian like the rest of the audience around me. It was an incredible production. It looked and felt so real, but still managed to be campy and theatrical at the same time. The announcer’s running commentary helped, playing off the wrestlers’ exaggerated reactions and all their showboating for the crowd.

I bit my lip and tried not to let my pheromones leak out too much as I watched Brian wrestling The Optometrist. They were both half-naked and grappling, grunting loud enough for us to hear, writhing together on the mat, hands grabbing at thighs and chests and bulging biceps…