Page 77 of Savage Hope

Damn.

I didn’t realize how much I wanted her to show up until now, and my dick definitely likes it, but I can’t be distracted.Not by rule sticklers like Collins, not by my brother getting unnecessarily protective, and definitely not by pussy. Even if it is virginal.

“Let’s go,” I order, sensing Asher and Tatum rising from their seats, and the five of us head for the door.

With my family around me, I storm through the short corridor, the bass of the music vibrating the ground as I step out into the walkway. The crowd is packed tight, but they’re all a blur. My sights are set on the man already in the ring.

He cracks his neck from side to side, running his tongue over his teeth as he watches me approach. He lifts his hand, rubbing his jaw, and I see the tape firmly wrapped around his knuckles. A grin splits my face, but there’s nothing nice about it. It’s all menacing, just like my thoughts as I consider every way I can break this man in two.

I round to a stop at the foot of the steps, feeling a pat on the back from each of my three brothers before Minnie squeezes my shoulder. It’s almost a ritual at this stage before they disperse into the crowd, leaving me to take the final steps to my damnation alone.

I plant my foot on the first step, and that’s when I catch a flash of bright blue eyes, made only brighter by the darkness of her locks.

Fuck.

She’s here.

Knowing it and seeing it for myself are two very different things. My muscles bunch and excitement gets the better of me, but I keep the vision of her in the corner of my eye instead of turning to give her my full attention.

She’ll be my prize when I win. For now, I just have to make sure I put on a good show for her. She did dye her hair, after all. Maybe she deserves a prize of her own.

Quickly pushing the rest of that thought to the back of my mind, I climb the remaining steps, relishing in the cheers I finally allow past my senses.

She’s not the only one who deserves a show. People come here to see me fight, and that’s precisely what I’m going to give them.

The second I slip between the ropes, two guards approach and I hold my left arm out, ready. The bite of magic linked to the chain that cuts into my flesh sends my adrenaline haywire and I smirk in amusement as I spy my opponent hiss at the contact.

“I’m going to bring you down, Wylder. You’re going to wish you never invited me here,” Dom snarls, baring his teeth as I feel the blocker solidify between my magic and me.

“That’s Mr. Aires to you, dick face. Only those who beat me get to call me Wylder,” I grunt, and he scoffs.

“No one calls you Wylder inside the ring,” one of the guards states, and I smirk.

“Precisely.”

I settle my stare on my opponent, watching his every move. From the way he rolls his shoulders back to the half-step he makes with his right foot every time he sways from side to side. Taking him down is going to be easy,tooeasy, and with my prize waiting in the audience, I’m ready to wrap this up as quickly as possible.

“You both know the rules,” Collins states, appearing between us with his hands raised like I can’t play nice and might charge my opponent at any moment. “No death, no magic, no ignorance.” What he really means is no ignoring him if he makes a call. I nod like always and Dominic follows suit. “Fight fair, fight clean, and don’t get blood on my shirt,” he adds with a smirk before the bell rings. He steps back, creating a clear path between me and my target.

He’s instantly bouncing on the balls of his feet. I heard he likes to try and tire his opponent out, but I’m not falling for that shit. I remain stoic, frozen in the center as he dances his adorable little fucking two-step around me. I don’t move when he moves to my side, reaching my back, and it must confuse the fuck out of him because it takes him a whole two seconds to swing his fists in my direction.

I let the first hit fall. Nothing fuels me like the swift greeting of someone’s knuckles against my flesh. Tingles run down my spine, the heat from the contact blossoming, and just as I hoped, he takes the victory of his first hit to come at me harder. Except the second punch doesn’t connect as I spin, catching his wrist in the next breath.

Wide eyes collide with mine as I turn to face him, yanking him closer with my left hand as I swing with my right. The crush of my bare knuckles against his face earns a holler through the crowd and I grin at the crunch that erupts beneath the force of my blow.

I release his wrist, letting him cup the damaged area as blood drips down his chin.

“What the fuck?” he spits, glaring at me, and I shrug, my grin growing wider as the crowd goes feral.

He clearly hasn’t done any research on me; I’ve pulled this shit before. Too many times, really, but a man’s ego is nothing to be messed with. It gets them every time.

Wiping the back of his hand across his face, he lifts his fists, finding the rhythm in his feet again. I regret not hitting him with my favorite double tap, so this would be over with already. But delayed gratification comes in many forms, and this is one of them.

He aims his fists in my direction, punching forward once, twice, three times with no luck before he starts swirling around me again. Unfortunately for him, I follow him this time, a factthat makes his nostrils flare as he stumbles over the little half-step he’s been doing since he entered the ring.

I could do this all night, until I catch another glimpse of baby blues and jet-black locks over his shoulder. She doesn’t know the influence she has on me. I sure as fuck don’t either. I don’t usually chase witches; I know my place as a wolf. Maybe I would venture at a full moon party, but not like this. Not outside of the night air and not as intensely as this.

I miss the trigger that warns me he’s going to swing and Dominic’s fist collides with the side of my head.

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