CHAPTER 7
Loke trod the path to the arena in silent contemplation, running over every possible scenario that might happen during the battle ahead of him. Zephyr led the group. Brink brought up the rear. The walled corridor cut into the black earth allowed the spectators to follow their progress from above as they too headed towards the arena.
Rayna’s gaze constantly sought him, but he kept his fixed ahead, unwilling to allow her to distract him. She could stare all she wanted. He wasn’t interested in anything she had to offer him. He was only interested in surviving the fight for Anais, claiming his little Amazon, and leaving with her.
Later, he would return to deal with Rayna. She would pay dearly for what she had done. He curled his fingers into fists at his sides and set his jaw, grinding his teeth as he thought about how the female dragon had snatched Anais, bringing her to the village. She had done it with the intent of eliminating Anais, whether that was through death or through Ren handing her over to another male.
He spared Rayna a glance and caught the flicker of fear in her golden eyes. He growled at her, baring twin rows of sharp teeth, making his anger clear to her. She could fear for him all she wanted. She had placed him in this position. She would pay for that too.
Brink muttered beneath his breath behind Loke, reciting an ancient warrior’s prayer. Loke chanted it in his head, using it to give him focus and clarity, to hone his senses and prepare himself for battle. Ahead of him, Zephyr began whispering the same prayer as he entered the arena.
A great cheer went up around the oval coliseum.
Loke entered behind him, his bare feet crushing the black sand as he took swift steps towards the centre of the obsidian stone coliseum where they were to gather before Ren in his private box.
The arena was enormous, a fragment of a time long past, when dragons had been numerous and games had taken place on special days through the cycle of the planet around the sun. In those days, thousands had gathered from far and wide to watch the spectacle of the finest dragon warriors battling the great beasts of Hell. Now, the clan used the arena for contests and training purposes, and their numbers barely filled a single row on one side of the arena. That side was carved from the black mountain that towered above the village, spearing the dark sky.
His gaze tracked up the height of it and fixed on the bleak sky of Hell.
How blue was the sky in Anais’s world?
He imagined it to be as blue as her eyes.
How warm would the sun feel on his skin?
He imagined it to be as warm as hers had felt beneath his fingers.
Silence fell as Ren entered and Loke dragged his eyes away from the sky and his thoughts away from the mortal realm, and lowered them to the covered private box in the centre of the side of the coliseum he faced.
His mood blackened and his lips compressed into a thin line as he watched Anais enter, stumbling as Rayna held the chain attached to her manacles and dragged her along behind her. They had removed her ankle shackles when he had requested it, but had refused to take off the ones around her wrists.
Ren smiled coldly and motioned for Anais to take the smaller throne next to his one, much to Rayna’s obvious displeasure.
Anais didn’t move to take it. She fixed Ren with a dark scowl, her blue eyes filled with hatred that tainted her soft sweet scent. Ren turned on her, a male far taller and more powerful than she was, but she didn’t flinch away. She stood her ground and even tipped her chin up.
Defiant.
Loke had seen that look before. He had found it charming then, but he found it concerning now. She was playing with fire. Ren wasn’t known for his kindness or patience. When he issued an order, he expected it followed without question or hesitation.
Ren moved a step closer to her, coming to tower over her, and his golden eyes narrowed, filling with fire that warned Loke he was close to losing his temper and forcing Anais to submit to him.
She flicked a nervous glance in Loke’s direction and he gave her a pointed look and then glared at the smaller throne, silently willing her to take it. There was a time and a place for defiance, and this wasn’t it. He was participating in this contest in order to spare her and stop his kin from hurting her. He didn’t need her actively attempting to get herself hurt, or worse.
Anais finally lowered her head and slumped onto the throne, her lips moving as she muttered something. Whatever she said, it drew a black look from Rayna, one that held an equal measure of hatred as the look Anais had given Ren. Rayna’s golden eyes slid Loke’s way and he bared his fangs in a silent warning to her. She huffed and took the seat on the other side of Ren.
Ren stepped forwards to stand at the low wall that formed the front of the private box and raised his hand. “You all know the rules. No shifting. You may use whatever weapons you have at your disposal or those in the arena. Fight until the last dragon stands.”
He dropped his hand.
Brink turned on a pinhead and swept his silver blade upwards in a blurred arc.
Not at Loke.
Zephyr leaped backwards, barely evading the blow, and snarled as he retaliated, lunging forwards and lashing out with his curved blade.
The sword sliced clean across Brink’s bare chest and the black-haired male staggered backwards, growled and then roared at Zephyr as he banded one arm across his chest and struck with the blade he gripped in the other.
Loke shifted backwards, moving out of the path of the blow, and quickly scanned the arena for a weapon. Brink lived in the village and Zephyr had a hut there, giving them access to their favoured weapons. All Loke had was his knife.
His gaze zoomed around the arena and a cold weight pressed down on his chest as he found no weapon.
He cursed Ren’s name when he caught sight of the male grinning down at him. He must have ordered all the weapons cleared from the arena while Loke had been occupied with speaking with Anais.
His heart accelerated, flooding his veins with adrenaline as he searched for a way out of this unholy mess he had found himself in. He was skilled with it, but his knife was no match for the blades that Zephyr and Brink wielded.
His gaze narrowed and he smiled slowly.
There were two blades in the arena.
He just needed to get his hands on one.
Brink dodged a blow aimed at his throat, sweeping beneath the blade and strafing right, gaining space as Zephyr growled and flashed his fangs. Blood drenched the front of Brink’s torso, pumping from the deep gash across his bare chest.
Loke wasn’t sure why Brink had decided to attack Zephyr and leave him alone, but he was grateful to the male for the much-needed thinking time. Zephyr pressed forwards with his attacks, clearly bent on removing Brink from the equation and leaving the battle for Anais between him and Loke.
Loke could go along with that.
He pulled his knife from the sheath against his left hip and targeted Brink.
The black-haired male swept around to face him, his expression twisting into grim lines as he saw Loke running at him. Brink said something but Loke couldn’t hear the words as he roared and kicked off, launching high into the air. He gripped his knife with both hands above his head and kept his eyes locked on Brink’s black ones.
Brink glared and swept his curved blade upwards, on a direct path with Loke’s descent.
Zephyr took the bait.
He ran at Brink’s back, his blade tucked against his side, ready to thrust. The moment he was within striking distance, he launched the blade forwards, plunging it deep into Brink’s right side. Brink staggered forwards with the blow, leaving Zephyr in the path of Loke’s strike.
Zephyr’s head began to lift and he tried to evade, but he wasn’t quick enough.
Loke brought his knife down hard, slicing across the green-haired male’s left shoulder and down his chest. Zephyr reacted in a heartbeat, shoving the flat of his palm into Loke’s face and sending him stumbling backwards into Brink.
Brink snarled and lashed out at Loke, raking sharp talons down his back. “I was trying to help you, you son of a bitch.”
Loke screamed and arched forwards, blistering pain tearing through him, blinding him for a second before his senses came back and blared a warning at him that cut through the guilt that had flared inside him on hearing that Brink had entered the contest to aid him.
He hurled himself to his right and landed hard on the ground there, the impact making him lose his hold on his knife as he narrowly avoided the thrust Zephyr had aimed at his gut. Zephyr’s blade skewered Brink’s stomach instead and the black-haired male stared down at the curved silver sword that stuck out of him.
Zephyr grinned as he pulled the blade out and Brink collapsed to his knees.
Loke barely had time to check on Brink and make sure the wound wasn’t fatal before Zephyr turned on him and attacked.
He rolled to his right as Zephyr brought his blade down in a swift arc. It struck the black sand and Zephyr growled, his face contorting with the anger and frustration that Loke could sense in him. Zephyr struck again, driving Loke further away from his knife where it lay on the ground near Brink.
Loke swung his left leg at the male’s hand as he stopped rolling. His bare foot connected hard with it and sent Zephyr’s blade tumbling from his grip. It didn’t stop the male. He leaped onto Loke and clawed at his chest, slicing deep grooves into his skin and tearing an agonised howl from Loke’s lips.
“Loke!” Anais’s voice rang out around the arena and he growled as he sensed her fear.
She feared Zephyr.
She feared for Loke.
He would take away her fear and make her feel safe again.
He snarled and slammed his right fist into Zephyr’s face, following it with a swift left hook and knocking the male to one side. The moment Zephyr’s weight lifted from him, he was on the male, shoving him onto his back and dealing his own round of punishing blows. He sliced his emerging claws down Zephyr’s chest, from the top of his left pectoral down to his navel, adding to the scars that already littered the male’s body.
Zephyr tipped his head back into the sand and roared in agony, and Loke could sense his intent to attack.
He grabbed Zephyr by the throat and pressed forwards to hold him down.
Brink grunted something and Loke’s knife tumbled into view at the edge of his vision, landing close to Zephyr and him. He would have to apologise to the male later and thank him for his assistance, and perhaps find out what had possessed Brink to help him in the first place. Brink had always kept to himself, ever since he had been found wandering through the dead after a battle, covered in blood but otherwise unharmed.
Loke was sure they hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words in the millennia they had known each other.
He reached for his knife, the fingers of his right hand groping around for it as he struggled to keep Zephyr pinned. He found it and had managed to get it into his hand when Zephyr spotted it and doubled his efforts, bringing both hands up and slamming his palms over Loke’s ears.
They rang, his head spinning from the sudden pressure in his ears, and he tried to shake it off.
Zephyr grabbed Loke’s wrist and panic prickled down his spine as the male twisted the knife he held towards him. He quickly clutched the spiralling hilt of the short blade with both hands and fought Zephyr, struggling against him as he tried to force Loke to stab himself. Zephyr pressed the flat of one hand against the end of the hilt and shoved forwards.
The tip of the blade pierced Loke’s stomach above his left hip.
He gritted his teeth against the pain and Zephyr grimaced as he drove forwards with the knife.
Fire burned through Loke’s side and he cried out as Zephyr roared, the victorious sound filling the arena and setting Loke’s temper aflame, making him forget his foolish desire to win this fight without taking the life of a fellow dragon.
He wouldn’t let Zephyr have Anais.
Anais was his.
He bared his fangs at the green-haired male and used the sudden burst of strength that blasted through him to yank the blade free of his side.
Zephyr froze and Loke was quick to seize the chance he offered him. He plunged the blade down towards Zephyr’s chest. The male bucked just as it was about to pierce the centre of his chest, throwing Loke backwards and off him.
Loke rolled onto his feet and sprang at Zephyr as he was getting onto his, taking the male back down onto the black sand. Zephyr threw a punch at him and Loke reared backwards to evade it. The male’s hand struck his arm, the force of the blow sending pain splintering along his bones and knocking his knife from his grip.
A wave of dizziness rocked him, the fire burning in his side blazing hotter as blood pumped from the deep wound above his left hip. He growled through the pain and punched Zephyr, knocking his head to one side. He followed it with another blow, splitting the green-haired male’s lip and spilling his blood. Zephyr fought back, landing a solid right hook on Loke’s jaw and sending his head spinning faster.
Zephyr unleashed a feral snarl and jabbed his thumb into Loke’s stab wound, tearing at it.
He threw his head back and roared in agony, the harsh sound echoing around the mountains and eliciting a soft feminine gasp from Anais’s direction. The scent of her fear grew stronger.
The urge to shift blazed through him and he barely held it back, retaining his mortal form by sheer force of will. He couldn’t break the rules. If he did, Zephyr would be declared the winner. He would never allow the male to lay his filthy claws on Anais.
The thought of her being at Zephyr’s mercy drove the pain from his mind and the agony from his body, replacing it with a deep hunger to spill blood and ensure her safety by destroying Zephyr.
Zephyr pressed his thumb deeper and Loke grabbed his wrist, holding him fast.
He unleashed a fierce snarl of his own as he punched the male beneath him, pounding his face with his right fist. Blood burst from Zephyr’s nose and the male retaliated, blocking Loke’s next punch and landing one of his own. Loke rocked to his left but refused to release Zephyr.
He weathered the male’s wild blows as Zephyr struck hard, alternating between slashing with his claws and punching him. Loke dealt blows of his own, raking his talons over the male’s flesh as he struggled to pull Zephyr’s other hand away from him. He ground his teeth and grunted as the male dug his claws into Loke’s flesh, locking himself in place.
The black world twirled around Loke and his grip loosened as he fought the devastating wave of nausea that crashed over him. He could feel the wet heat of blood as it slid down his side and his chest, his life force draining from him. Zephyr bled too, but not to the dangerous degree that Loke was. He needed to end the fight soon, or he was going to pass out and Zephyr would be the last dragon standing.
He would win Anais.
A feeble growl curled from his lips and victory flashed in Zephyr’s green eyes again.
The male knew he was close to winning.
Loke would never give up.
He would never let anyone else have Anais.
She was his little Amazon and no one else’s.
He threw his head back and roared as he gave up on trying to pull Zephyr’s thumb from his wound and threw everything he had left into defeating him before darkness claimed him. He pushed himself past his limit, gathered his strength and threw it into one last blow.
His fist struck hard. His aim true.
Zephyr grunted as Loke punched the front of his throat and immediately released him, both hands coming up to clutch at his neck as Loke withdrew. The male wheezed as he tried to breathe through his crushed windpipe, his face reddening and a wild look filling his eyes.
Loke rolled off him and collapsed onto the ground beside him, breathing hard and fighting the pain as it tried to swallow him.
Ren’s disappointed huff reaching his ears was like the sweetest music to Loke, easing his heart and his fears.
He rolled over onto his front, shoved his hands into the black dirt and forced himself onto his knees. An inferno burned white-hot in his side and he clutched it, his fingers slipping around in the thick flow of blood as he tried to stem it. He lumbered onto his feet and struggled to stay there, his knees wobbling beneath him as his head turned, spinning the world around him.
Loke frowned at the private box, trying to bring it into focus. It wobbled and distorted, but eventually he caught a glimpse of Anais. She was on her feet at the wall, her face pale and blue eyes enormous as she stared down at him. He took an unsteady step towards her and the faintest of smiles trembled on her lips.
Ren tossed a disappointed look off to Loke’s left and then beyond him. Loke looked there too. Brink lay unconscious, his arms still wrapped around his stomach and his skin ashen. Loke was glad the male wasn’t dead. He could hear Brink’s heart beating slowly but steadily. When he was strong enough, he would return to the village to thank him.
Behind him, Zephyr had lost his fight against the darkness and lay still, barely breathing.
Loke had half a mind to join them and pass out for a while, but he couldn’t give in to that need.
Anais was waiting for him, her manacles gone and a look on her face that warned she was considering clambering over the wall of the private box to reach him and escape his clan’s chief.
Loke called on the last shreds of his strength, tapping into the deepest well inside him, and roared as he transformed, unleashing his dragon form. The world shrank below him, Anais becoming smaller and more fragile looking as he gained height. The wound in his side opened wider, a great gash that spilled dark blood onto the ground as he settled all four blue paws onto the black sand. He beat his blue wings, preparing for flight, and reached for Anais.
She didn’t shrink away.
She reached for him.
Rayna went to round her brother, dark intent in her eyes, and Ren held his arm out, blocking her path to Anais.
“He has won her fair and square, by the way of our people.”
Rayna glared at her brother but Ren didn’t relent.
Loke carefully curled his talons around Anais and lifted her off the platform. She sat in his palm when he opened it, a small and fragile thing, but one that imbued him with great strength. He went to curl his other paw around her but she held her hand up.
He cocked his head, his long curved dark blue horns brushing his wing muscles as he wondered what she wanted.
“Your knife.” She pointed to it and he made a mental note to thank her later for being so thoughtful and aware of how much it meant to him, and how upset he would have been on discovering he had left it behind.
He carefully lowered her, fighting another wave of dizziness as he did so, and she hopped off his palm, picked up the knife, and clutched it. He scooped her back up again and carefully tucked her against his chest as he beat his wings. Black sand swirled around the arena as he lifted off, each powerful beat of his wings sending a gust of wind against the side where Ren stood watching him with a dark look in his eyes.
He was sure they would come to blows one day, but not today.
Today he had more important matters that required his attention.
He turned towards the mountains beyond the village and brought his other paw up, curling it around Anais, ensuring she was safe as he tucked his hind legs against his body and flew back towards his cave.
Each beat of his wings was agony, but he endured it, fighting to remain conscious as he carried his prize back to his home. He could feel one of her hands stroking the palm of his paw, brushing over his blue scales in a tender caress that he felt sure was meant to soothe him. It did. It warmed him right down to his bones and gave him the strength to keep fighting to remain airborne.
He flew over the peak of the mountains that stood between the village and his cave and faltered as a gust of wind swept up off them, battering him. He dropped several hundred feet and Anais clutched him, a startled gasp escaping her. He cursed himself for rushing and placing her in danger, but he hadn’t been able to ignore the deep need to take her away from the village. He had needed to take her away from the males who wanted her and meant her harm. She was his and he would let no other male near her.
Loke levelled out and stretched his blue wings wide, catching the air currents to conserve the last shreds of his strength and letting them carry him across the thick forest. He steadily glided over the trees and waited until the last minute to beat his wings and twist his body so he shot upwards, skimming the cragged sloping side of the mountain he called home.
He overshot the ledge and spread his wings again, stopping his ascent and drifting down to land.
His left hind leg gave out beneath him and he crashed onto the black rock, thrusting Anais forwards so she rolled into the cave and out of his path. His chest struck the ledge and his jaw cracked off the top of the arch above the cave entrance. Loke grunted and collapsed in a tangled heap, his wings draped across the mountainside on either side of the cave.
Anais regained her feet and ran to him, fear painted across her pretty face as she reached for him.
The sweetest sight he had ever seen.
His hind legs dropped off the ledge as he began to transform back into his mortal form, the weight of them and his tail dangling above the sheer drop pulling him backwards, and she swam out of focus as oblivion swallowed him.
The last thing he saw was the dark sky.
The last thing he felt was a sensation of dropping.
The last thing he heard was Anais screaming his name.