Page 89 of Feral Possession

“You think I can’t handle myself?” Bishop’s eyes flickered with his beast’s presence.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then put me in. Word gets out, it will bring the kind of numbers you’re looking for. Enough to attract even Helen’s ilk.”

This was true. In Bishop’s day, he filled arenas beyond capacity. When word got out the former champion was returning to the ring, fans would come in droves. “I’ve no doubt. It will also put you in her crosshairs.”

Bishop snorted. “What? You think I’ve gone soft? Let me assure you, I have not.”

He could see it in Bishop’s eyes, the need to unleash his primal half. Better yet, to unleash it surrounded by a bloodthirsty crowd.

“Marcus alone could be enough to draw her attention.” Dove finally joined the conversation, asking Marcus, “Have you visited to the casino since”—she winced—“you know?”

“I have not.” He’d not set foot in the place that almost ended him. Nor had he been in the public’s eyes. Not with his face being the stuff of nightmares.

“Take me there. Together, we will defeat any foe. Or are you a coward?” Shadow taunted in the back of his mind.

“Silence, beast,” Marcus snarled through their shared link.

“Returning to the casino could be difficult, even without Helen’s involvement,” Dove said, picking up on his discomfort. “You sure you want to do this under such dire circumstances?”

“It’s just a building,” he said, convincing her, convincing himself. “One of several I own.” If it meant capturing Helen, he’d walk through the fires of hell. Returning to the casino would be a close second.

“I’ll assemble a crew.” Bishop rubbed his beefy hands together, like he was already envisioning the damage he would do in the ring. “Make sure we have everything covered inside and out.”

“Bishop won’t be able to have your back if he’s fighting,” Dove added, voicing yet another concern.

Her anxiety did little to alleviate Marcus’s. Still, he had too much riding on this to give in to his misgivings. “We can make it work. I’ll speak to my event planner. Let him know Bishop and I will both be in attendance. Tell him to get the word out.”

Ida hustled into the room, apron strings flapping. “Sorry to interrupt, Lord Steele, but the guard at the front door says there’s a young woman named Celeste here to see Dove.”

Marcus met Dove’s look of relief and arched a brow.

She tilted her chin at a defiant angle. “I asked her to come over to help me translate Victor’s book. It’s written in some funky language I’ve never seen before.”

The same book that contained a drawing of the emblem on his chest. He frowned. “Make certain that’s all she pokes her nose into.” He sure as hell didn’t need some gossipy shopkeeper finding out about his demon. Not when he was so close to achieving his goals.

“I can be discreet, you know.” Dove scowled.

One word he did not associate with the flamboyant necromancer. “See her in, Ida,” Marcus ordered.

Dove unwound herself from the sofa and met Celeste as she entered the great room. The two women embraced.

“Thank you for coming. I could really use your help,” Dove said.

“No problem. Besides, no way I was passing up an opportunity to see the inside of Lord Steele’s penthouse.” Celeste swept into the room, long skirt swishing around her ankles. Bells jangling. She locked eyes with Bishop, whose scowl deepened.

“Hello, handsome.” She batted her lashes. “Long time no see. Did you miss me?”

“Hmm,” Bishop grunted in reply, earning himself a frown from Dove.

Dove folded her arms and pinned the lycan with a pointed stare. The devious gleam in her eyes warned she was about to toss him to the wolves. “Bishop plans to fight in the match at the casino next weekend.”

Celeste gasped, her face lighting with delight. “Oh, that’s fabulous. Please tell me you’re coming out of retirement.” The witch clasped her hands over her heart.

“It’s just one fight,” Bishop grumbled, folding his thick arms and glancing away. Marcus watched the male’s ears turn an unflattering shade of red. If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect the lycan was blushing.

“Then it will be a match your biggest fan will not miss.” If Celeste were a cartoon drawing, hearts would pound in her eye sockets. “This is so exciting,” the witch squealed, reaching an ear-piercing octave.

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