Page 39 of Tempest Blazing
Adrenaline flooded my system, the only thing keeping me conscious as I scrambled backward on my hands and knees.Every movement sent fresh waves of agony through my broken ribs, but staying still meant death.
The demon stalked toward me, taking his time now. He knew I was finished—we both did. Magic continued to dance around his fists, growing brighter, more volatile. The air around him shimmered with heat that made my skin prickle even from several feet away.
I can't win this, the rational part of my mind whispered as I struggled to my feet, swaying dangerously. Blood ran down my chin from where I'd bitten my tongue.I'm going to die here.
But the stubborn part—the part that had survived my mother's cruelty, that had faced down ancient evils and bonded with a dragon—refused to give up. Even as my vision grayed at the edges, even as my legs threatened to give out, something inside me snarled its defiance.
No. I won't fold. Not for them.
I raised my one good arm in a pathetic attempt at defense, knowing it was useless. The demon's laugh was like grinding stone as he drew back his fist, crimson magic spiraling around it like liquid fire. The power radiating from him made the air itself seem to burn, and I knew with sick certainty that whatever he was preparing would end this fight permanently.
The charged energy built to a crescendo that made my teeth ache. I could feel the heat of it from here, could smell the ozone in the air as reality warped around his fist. This wasn't just going to kill me—it was going to obliterate me.
I saw it coming—the charged strike that would shatter every bone in my body and reduce me to nothing more than a stain on the arena sand—but my battered body was too slow, too human.My injured arm hung useless at my side, and my legs felt like water beneath me.
Time slowed as his fist descended, trailing fire and death. The crowd held its collective breath, waiting for the moment of impact. Waiting for me to die.
I braced myself for the end, terror and rage warring in my chest as darkness crept in from the edges of my vision.
Chapter 17
Kane
I confirmed my glamour with a flick of thought—the bruised, broad-shouldered fighter persona I'd crafted for tonight's infiltration into the underground fighting ring. Thicker jaw, darker hair, scars across my knuckles that weren't mine. The announcer's voice boomed across the obsidian arena, but the words blurred into background noise. I had more pressing concerns than whatever spectacle they were selling to the crowd.
Leaning against a pillar near the lower gate, I scanned the arena's periphery with practiced efficiency. Enforcers lounged near the betting stations, their relaxed postures a lie—I could see the tension in their shoulders, the way their eyes tracked movement. Bookies worked the crowd with hungry efficiency, taking bets in currencies that ranged from gold to souls.
Any one of them might crack under the right pressure. Any one of them might have information I could use to dismantle this nightmare from the inside.
Part of me was grateful for the distraction—anything to keep my thoughts from circling back to Tess. To the kiss that had shattered everything I thought I knew about myself. The memory hit me hard, her taste still lingering on my lips, the way she'd melted against me before reality crashed back down. I pressed my knuckles against the stone pillar.
She wasn't just not fae, she was human. And she was already mated and bound to my best friend. That realization clawed at my chest with every breath.
And beneath that agony lurked an even darker truth—my father would despise her even more if he discovered that Tess, a mere human, was important to me. The thought of his reaction, the violence that would follow, made me sick.
But tonight, I had to push all of that aside. Focus on what I could control.
I wasn't here to win tonight. I was here to learn something—anything—that might help me destroy the fighting ring and free the people who were trapped here.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
I'd fought in rings like this one, years ago, when the pressure at home became too much and I needed somewhere to bleed out my rage. I wasn't proud of it—wasn't proud of a lot of things I'd done—but everyone had their lines. Slavery was one of mine. That's why I was here now, risking everything to learn who was pulling the strings.
A fight raged in the pit below, the crowd's screams washing over me in waves of bloodlust, but I barely glanced at the violence. Instead, I edged closer to a knot of well-dressed demons and fae clustered near the corner stairs. Their glamours shimmered faintly around the edges—too polished, too private. VIPs disguising themselves as regular spectators.
I pretended to adjust my boots, tilting my ear toward their conversation while keeping my expression bored and unfocused.
"—the girl might show promise, but—"
My pulse spiked.The girl.Who were they talking about? I memorized every word, every inflection, filing them away for later analysis. The fragments weren't enough to form a complete picture, but they were pieces of a puzzle I desperately needed to solve.
The current match ended with a sickening crack of bone against bone. Blood hit the sand in a spray of crimson. The crowd roared its approval—and then fell unnaturally still.
A ripple of attention moved through the arena, heads turning in unison toward the main entrance. I followed their gaze without thinking, my body moving on instinct—
And froze.
There she stood. The reality I'd been trying to deny. The person I'd been pushing away. The one who had upset my entire life…
