Page 90 of Demon Found

My skin tingles, and I clamp down on my power. I willnotburst out in flames over him.

“I’m sure it’s just for show,” Val says quietly, her brows drawing together as she glances at me.

Chano casts a look around, raising his fist in the air. The volume rises to a raging inferno as the crowd is whipped into a frenzy by his one simple act. His sweeping gaze lands on me for an instant, gone in the next. He either didn’t recognize me tucked away in the staff area, or he chose to blank me. I tuck the little pang of hurt away deep inside. It doesn’t matter if he’s ignoring me. I’m ignoring him, dammit.

Not killing the Ratas was a nice gesture, but it doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

Chano’s taller and bulkier, but there’s a nimbleness about him that the minotaur lacked. He bounces on the balls of his feet, staring intensely at Farrell. My gaze traces Farrell’s lean back as he rolls his athletic shoulders and cracks his neck. They’re both the essence of raw masculinity.

The bell rings, and I grip Val’s hand so tightly she snatches it back. Shit. They’re not going to kill each other, are they?

For a few moments the two simply circle, feigning blows and retreating, feeling each other out. The crowd starts to grumble, small scuffles breaking out. Impatient, bloodthirsty assholes. Farrell lands the first real blow, springing forward before feinting to the right and striking Chano’s chin. A glob of red-tinged spit flies across the room, and I can’t stop my eyes tracking it.

Suddenly the fight is in earnest, and I struggle to keep up—they’re back and forward across the ring, trading blows that could knock a small elephant out.

Farrell traps Chano against the ropes and batters the living shit out of his chest. Despite the noise of the crowd, the distinct crack of a rib reaches me. Grimacing, I look away, catching Val’s eye as she bellows encouragement at Chano. She smirks like she just caught me admitting undying love to the devilish fuck.

Somehow Chano propels both himself and Farrell forward. He drops under Farrell’s arm and delivers a sickening blow to the back of his head, sending him spinning sideways.

Shit, they’re so evenly matched. One of them is going to get seriously hurt before this is over.

With a snarl, Farrell turns and presses Chano back again, slowly. He’s gaining the upper hand, and the crowd settles a little with a collective intake of breath.

“Farrell Cuelebre! Stop brawling this instant!” The woman’s shout is amplified by magic and projected across the entire room.

Like everyone, Farrell’s attention is drawn to the pissed-off redhead at the top of the stairs. It’s the advantage Chano needs, and in a split second, he’s hurled himself at Farrell, bringing them both to the ground and punching him in the face until blood flies and Farrell stills.

While the ref counts Farrell out, the bouncers drag Chano off him.

Farrell’s so still. Is he even breathing? Fear flares in my heart. Medics rush toward the ring, fighting the ropes to get to him.

His right hand twitches, and he moans. Relief floods through me, then anger. I glare in Camille’s direction. She’s still standing on top of the steps, arms folded. Shecausedhim to lose, and she doesn’t look remotely ashamed.

A flash of blond hair catches my eye, and I watch as Belinda throws herself over the ropes. She practically climbs Chano, holding his face between her hands and shoving her tongue down his throat. He scowls in the direction of the stairs, barely seeming to notice the limpet attached to him.

Chano slowly untangles himself from Belinda. He flashes the cameras a wicked smile and flexes for a photo beside the scoreboard. Even beat up he’s a work of fricking art that makes my damn panties wet.

His dark eyes suddenly catch mine, and the smile on his face flickers to something darker. Holding my gaze steadily, he sweeps Belinda into his arms, pinning her to him and kissing her passionately, his free hand roaming her curves. The fucker never once looks away from me, his gaze an outright challenge.

I turn, a cold hard knot in my stomach. I don’t need to entertain his bullshit. I trudge out of the staff area, blindly following Beck and Naeve, swallowing back tears I don’t understand.

“Hey, chica.”

I keep my head down, walking away.

“Oi, CHICA!”

Why won’t he just leave me the fuck alone? My tears morph to a red-hot anger, and my skin prickles, flames threatening to light it up.

Chano catches my arm and swings me toward them, but it’s Belinda who steps into my path. She shoves me back, out of Chano’s grasp. She flicks her hair, narrowing her eyes as she points a finger in my face.

“Keep away, you hear? He’s mine.”

Fucking bitch.Hegrabbed me. I’ve a good mind to . . . She turns away, dismissing me and locks faces with Chano, guiding one of his hands to her boob and the other to her ass. My thoughts implode.

My nostrils flare, and I take a step back. Flames rip across my skin in an instant, lighting me up, flickering from purple to white and back.Shit. I have to control this. Oblivious, Belinda drops her mouth from Chano’s and kisses down his neck to his pecs, one hand squeezing his crotch. Chano rears back, mouth moving but I can’t concentrate. Can’t make out his words.

I can’t breathe. My head spins and I gasp for air. I try to hold back my rage, to keep a lid on this irrational anger surging through me. But the image of her hand on his dick is seared into the back of my eyelids. No matter how hard I squeeze them shut, it won’t fucking leave.

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