Page 89 of Demon Found

Val skips back toward us, beaming. “Just put odds on your man, Naeve. First time I’ve bet on a Cuelebre. He better come out on top.”

Naeve’s eye widen, and my pulse starts to race. I squint at the board.Surelythat doesn’t say Cuelebre?

“His father will be mad,” Naeve grumbles. Dammit, she should be more worried he’ll get hurt than that daddy will tell him off.

“He’s been here all evening, doing pretty good.” Beck smiles down at Naeve. “You made it for the last couple of bouts. Want me to help you put a bet on him?” He holds out a hand.

They shuffle off toward the scruffy-looking bookie, fingers cautiously intertwined. A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. They’re cute together. This counts as a date, right? A first date in a Fight Club, not really where I’d place either of them. Tea and scones are more Naeve’s thing.

The bell rings, echoing around the densely packed room, and the roar of the crowd settles to a background mutter. My heart hammers in time with the music, picking up pace as the fighters walk through the crowd, cloaked and hooded.

Farrell shrugs off his robe and climbs into the ring, his muscles rippling. The overhead light catches his russet curls making his whole head look as if it’s on fire. My gaze trails over his torso. He’s built like a god. His head swings from side to side, and he bares his teeth at the crowd, sending them wild. He’s every inch the animal shifter.

“Can they shift?” I ask Val. Surely very few supes are going to match a wyvern?

“No, stupid. No shifting and no magic. It’s muscle only.”

Well, he’s got plenty of that. I stare at his chest in awe.

Farrell’s competitor climbs into the ring and my breath catches. Teddy. The academy’s only minotaur. He’s twice Farrell’s width, and he’s anything but cuddly. Teddy turns and roars, drumming his fists on his chest and winding the crowd into a frenzy before flinging off his robe.

He paces up to Farrell, snarling in his face. Farrell’s features close off in the icy mask I’m so used to seeing. Great, he deals with me the same way he does an opponent in the ring.

On the bell Teddy charges forward, arms out, swinging already. Farrell neatly sidesteps and spins behind him, elbowing him sharply in the kidney.Nice. The guy barges around, his fist colliding with Farrell’s jaw so hard I hear it clack from here. Naeve squeaks and buries her face in Beck’s shirt. He looks fucking ecstatic as he flings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Maybe it’s not such a bad shout for a first date.

The roar of the crowd drags my attention back to the ring. Farrell sneaks under the minotaur’s guard, delivering a series of gut-clenching punches before darting back out of his reach. Teddy is severely outclassed. The concern choking my airway eases.

The minotaur roars his frustration, and a lucky flail sends Farrell spinning sideways. He pauses, hanging suspended on the ropes by his arms, dazed.Fuck. Teddy begins a slow prowl toward Farrell, roaring his success, readying to give the final blow of the match. Suddenly Farrell bounces himself off the rails straight at the guy. A feint, followed by a single vicious strike to the temple, and Teddy drops to the floor, out cold.

The crowd erupts—whooping and bawling like they won the match themselves. Val catches my eye and punches the air, then rubs her fingers and thumb together. I guess Farrell just won her some decent money. Smiling back, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. This bloody allegiance bond, even when I’m avoiding the guys, I’m worried for them.

“Drinks on the house, ladies.” Beck whisks a tray of ocean-blue glasses toward us from behind the staff bar. “We don’t do cocktails down here, so the best I can come up with are Blue Moons.”

He hands Naeve a glass, complete with fae-fruits on a little skewer. I edge Val a little away to give them some privacy, and Naeve gives me a not-so-subtle thumbs-up.

“Betting on the last one, Val?”

“Ab-so-fucking-lutely! I mean Maverik against Cuelebre? Come on!” Val waves her betting slip in my face, grinning like a maniac.

I whirl to stare at the board, but before I can read it, the commentator starts bellowing across the room.

“Make your final bets for a never-before-seen fight. Chano Maverik, our undefeated Wailing Moon Champion, versus tonight’s new contender Farrrrrrrrell Cuelebreeee.”

Chapter Forty-four: Lorelei

Theroaroftheroom fades to a background buzz, and my brain whirs at five hundred miles an hour. Did the boys decide to settle their differences once and for all? Or maybe it’s chance. Maybe Farrell needed a way to vent his anger and Chano happened to be fighting tonight.

The crowd surges forward, but I don’t catch a glimpse until they’re climbing into the ring. Farrell is battered from his earlier fights, still smoking hot, but his lip is swollen, and he has a small cut above his eye. Chano is unscathed, his buzz cut highlighting an unblemished square jaw. I glance between the two, twisting my glass in my hands.

Who do I want to win?

Chano towers over everyone, standing in his corner calm and composed. When he drops his robe, I let out a muffled sigh. His sculpted body is like Adonis. Adonis with tattoos. They crawl over his pecs, reaching up his neck and down his back, highlighting every single muscle.

Val dabs my chin.

“Just catching your drool.” She winks at me, and a rush of embarrassment heats my neck. I give her a hard nudge. She cackles, turning back to the ring, only to take a hissing breath through her teeth.

Looking up, my chest squeezes. Belinda leans over the ropes. The fucking succubus is dressed head to toe in leather. Not old-man-biker-gang leathers, but sexy Catwoman leathers, showing off every curve and all her damn cleavage. And she’s pawing at Chano, hands all over him.Bitch.

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