Page 45 of Golden Eagle

“Leave if you want,” Lanny said. “But I’ve got fights to win.”

He started to turn away. Alexei had wrapped one hand – expert at it by now – and was working on the second. But he caught Jamie’s fast look of disgust.

“You sound a lot like your sire lately,” Jamie said, before he moved off.

Alexei froze. Lifted his head, locked eyes with Lanny.

Lanny felt a sudden lightning flash of aggression. His hands tightened into fists of their own accord as he listened to Jamie’s footfalls recede.

“Here.” Alexei tapped the back of his hand, and he flattened it again. “Ignore him. He’s being stupid.”

“Yeah,” Lanny agreed. But as fast as it had come, that spike of anger faded, and as he stood, watching the top of Alexei’s head, dark hair shining beneath the construction lights, disquiet took its place. After his turning, the first thing he’d done upon sight of Alexei was try to beat the guy to death. And now? He was siding with him over Jamie.

Probably he ought to reevaluate some things.

Alexei sat back, looking up at him with an excited smile. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Behind him, the emcee, a little rat-faced guy named Connor who everyone called Connie, shouted, “Next match!”

The big man at the other end of the bench stood, face contorted with an eager snarl.

Alexei slapped Lanny lightly in the chest and said, “Go win our money.”

In the ring, the winner wiped blood off his mouth with the back of his hand, and his opponent was bodily dragged out, unconscious. Lanny passed the victor on his way in, and the guy grinned at him, nastily, and spat a thick glob of blood at his feet.

Lanny grinned back. “I’ll see you after I get done with this asshole.”

~*~

Lanny was toying with his opponent.

Alexei hooked his arms over the fence board rail that kept the crowd off the cage and smiled to himself. Fuck Jamie for trying to bring down the mood tonight. Being a goody-two-shoes choir boy going on aboutfairness. Alexei still remembered, with aching clarity, what it had felt like to land on the hard stone floor, pinned beneath his papa’s weight, after the bullets tore through Nicholas’s body.

Fairness had no place in life. Only strength.

Lanny was quick. For such a muscular man, he stepped lightly on the balls of his feet, almost dancing. So far, he’d only been blocking, moving in, threatening, then moving back. Circling. Drawing more and more forceful punches from his opponent – punches that didn’t land. Vampirism made him strong, and fast, but the technique – the effortless perfection of each movement – was born of expertise and long practice.

The opponent threw another punch that didn’t land, and grunted in frustration, his already-sweating face going red. “Fuck you, chicken shit,” he said. “Fucking fight me already!”

Lanny grinned. “’Kay.” And then he launched his offensive.

He moved in close; no longer dancing, but taking a bold step. The opponent swung, and Lanny batted him away like he was a child. Lanny’s punch caught him on the jaw, and snapped his head back.

For a moment, the man went limp with shock; he fell back against the cage, hands dropping, not even protecting himself.

Lanny moved away. Gave him a chance to blink glassy eyes, shake his head, and regain his balance.

A low, excited murmur had started up in the crowd, bodies pressing along the rail. The champion, undefeated, was stepping back; giving his opponent a chance to recover himself, rather than pressing his advantage.

The show of mercy enraged the other man; he lurched forward, clearly still dazed, and brought his hands up. “Come on!” he roared.

And Lanny came.

He moved in with a few fast, effective jabs that sent his opponent back against the cage with a grunt. But the other man finally got off a lucky shot; his taped fist landed square on Lanny’s jaw. A good hit, from a big hand, and a strong man. Anyone else would have staggered back, half-blind from the sudden burst of pain.

But Lanny grinned, baring all his teeth, and didn’t budge an inch. Two more hits, and his opponent slumped to the ground, boneless and unconscious.

---