Page 48 of Filthy Royal

As always, her gaze drifted back to Damien—until, out of the corner of her eye, a figure on the main level captured her attention.

He stood among the crowd of observers and trainers, scrutinizing Damien. That wasn’t odd in itself. The spectators often focused on Damien.

But Damien wasn’t fighting now. He’d already finished his latest match. Yet this male’s focus was absolute, his fingers rubbing absently at the smooth spot behind his ear where an Alpha’s horn would normally be.

A shiver ran through her.

Something about the male and the circumstances sent a wave of dread racing up her spine.

“Next!” Egan’s shout snapped her gaze back to the mats.

Damien was up again. Another fighter scrambled onto the mats to face him.

Her stomach sank.

This time, Damien’s opponent was N’gal Verish.

Scarlett didn’t know if the assignment was random or bad luck, but it made her nervous.

N’gal’s family and trainers crowded as close to the platform as possible, shouting advice and encouragement. Damien had no one.

While there were other matches set to take place simultaneously, this one drew all the attention.

Always one to play to the crowd, N’gal turned toward her, his wings rubbing the air in the deliberate mating ritual of his kind, his antennae twitching as he flexed his arms and snapped his pincers in the air. “Take notes, pretty prize.” He raised his voice to ensure she could hear even from her higher vantage point. “Because after I pin this cocky Skolov space trash, I’m going to win the main event, then pin you beneath my wings and rut that trophy cunt like a true champion.”

Crude laughter echoed through the arena.

Somehow, she still heard Damien’s menacing growl above it all.

She held her breath. But Egan didn’t censure the Verish fighter as he might have so many other fighters.

Instead, he merely called out, “Begin!”

The two Alphas clashed, the clap of their bodies vicious and loud.

Damien’s movements weren’t as elegant or swift as usual. Emotion drove him. Fury, too.

Verish sank a pincer into Damien’s chest.

Scarlett’s heart hammered against her ribs, the urge to bang against the crystal and unleash her fury almost impossible to contain. Black tendrils flashed from her palms. A small crack appeared in the crystal cage.

Startled, she curled her fingers into fists and forced herself to calm down.

She needed to soothe Damien through their bond, not add to his aggression.

A roar rose among the fighters.

Relief almost sent her to her knees.

Blood poured from a wound at Damien’s chest, but it was the Verish fighter who was in trouble, his wing hanging at an odd angle as he flailed in Damien’s chokehold, her Alpha’s powerful arm and thigh trapping N’gal on the mat.

One heartbeat passed… then two… N’gal attempted an escape roll.

Damien countered, retaining his hold.

Three heartbeats… four… N’gal’s clawed hand hit the mats.

He’d tapped out.

---