Page 5 of The Midnight Prize

“Let’s get it,” came the call from Mike which served as the official start of the match. Dustin shoved me with both hands and swung a hard right that connected and drove a knuckle into my left temple. His punch felt like a train slammed into my head and staggered me back. My hand went up to cover my face and he used that opening to crash a left uppercut into my ribs, forcing the wind out of my lungs. His blow dropped me to one knee. He didn’t give me a moment to breathe, as a hard knee smashed the side of my head and launched me to the ground.

The crowd was as stunned as I was. Dustin Munoz was too strong and too fast for me to counter his attacks in the condition I was in. It was reckless of me to sleep with Ariana before my match, a lesson Dustin pounded home by kicking his toes into my abdomen. His foot seemed to go through me and forced the little air I had left from my body. All I could do was curl into a ball. My right arm flailed out as I tried to minimize the damage, but that was another stupid mistake. With little delay, the Vampire stomped his heel down. I’m not sure which sound was louder, hearing Derek yell to me to get to my feet, or the crack of my forearm as Munoz shattered it. His ferocity and blood lust proved too much to overcome. I was going to lose The Midnight Prize in spectacular fashion, and my standing within the underground fight scene. Damn my blind arrogance and faith in my own abilities.

Darkness crept around my senses and ushered me into unconsciousness. Before I passed out, there were two thoughts that came with me. The first was for my life. I hoped Derek would be able to stop this one-sided affair before Munoz killed me. The other was for the woman that led to my downfall. How many men had fallen throughout history because of a woman? Never thought it would happen to me. Ariana. Would that name go down in infamy alongside others such as Helen or Circe?

POST FIGHT COVERAGE

“Did you know you andI've been doing this dance for centuries?”

I heard the voice speaking to me, but couldn't place it. It was as if I was swimming up from the bottom of the ocean as it spoke.

“At least, that’s what I’ve fantasized about for days.”

I became aware that I wasn't swimming but waking up. Where was I, and how long had I been unconscious? Each eyelid felt like it weighed fifty pounds. I fought hard until I could force them open, and blinked hard several times to will my eyes to clear.

“I’ve always been a bit of a romantic, I’m afraid.”

I became aware of other sounds, as the voice continued to speak. An electronic beep sounded at repeating intervals. Another voice, but further in the background and more electrical. Someone spoke over an announcement system. Footsteps off to my left.Dammit.I was in a damn hospital. The realization smacked me almost as hard as Munoz's fists in the fight.The fight!The voice speaking to me, the one that drew me from unconsciousness belonged to—

“Ah, you’re awake,” Ariana bubbled. “Good. I couldn't help but think about it, Damian. How romantic would it be if we were two lovers from a past life? Cursed by some supernatural means to have to find each other over and over again as each new lifetime appeared? That would be amazing! We’d be separated by some vast distance spending our days trying to overcome the obstacles to find our way back to each other’s arms. We'd instantly fall in love each time we saw each other," she sighed.

What the fuck was she spewing? I'm in a fucking hospital, and she's waxing poetic about love-at-first-sight. This was a bad Lawrence Hall novel after all.

Ariana sat in a chair to my left as I lay in the hospital bed. I leaned to the right, away from her, and soaked in my environment. The walls were as bare as I expected, save for an indiscriminate painting hung to the right of a large window. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see how elevated we were, but there were no signs of ground level. To the left of the window, mounted on the wall, was a small flat-screen television with images of the local news. Everything was light blue. My feet and legs were under the covers, but my right hand and forearm were above them and immobilized in a cast. Seeing my arm like that must've signed the pain to join the party. I felt every point of punishment that Dustin had inflicted on me, and it's all because of her.

“Get out,” I whispered. My jaw ached and my face felt swollen several times larger than its normal size. That fucker did a number on me, and the last person I wanted to see was the woman responsible for my being here.

“You don’t want that, Damian,” Ariana answered and took my left hand into her soft one. Her other hand traveled the length of my leg. She was right, and my cock thickened as my eyes drunk in her beauty. She was alone in the room with me, dressed in a black pencil skirt that hugged her body in all the right ways. It was a little see-through but didn't give away too much. It tantalized the sense. The thigh-high split was just the right height to give me a peek of her ass as she sat with her legs crossed. The matching solid crop cami top allowed her to complete the sensual, sexy presentation. She was stunning and grinned as she spoke.

But, she was also wrong. As hard as my dick grew as her hand traveled up my leg, I couldn’t completely dismiss the night’s events. I needed answers, not more sex. “Where's Derek?"

"Who?"

"My trainer," I strained.

"Oh, him. I waited till he left the room. He's been here with you the whole time, you know?"

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