CHAPTER 13
MATHIS
Mathis rested his head against the cool tile of the shower wall. Steaming hot water poured over his back and shoulders, stinging on his newly healed skin.
You’ve really fucked up this time, Matts. The voice in his head sounded like his twin sister. He and Francine didn’t get on well these days, and he no longer wondered why. Francine, with her razor-sharp business skills, was running her own mini-empire. Mathis had never had that sort of drive. Pretending to be Matt Dell had given him purpose for a while…
And see where that got you.
Adrenaline gripped his muscles. He grabbed a loofah and soap and scrubbed at his skin, scraping off dried blood and sweat. He wanted to get rid of Matt Dell, every trace of him. The shabby clothes. The close-cropped hair. He couldn’t do anything about those, but this—the blood—the fights—
Who was he kidding? Matt Dell wasn’t the problem. Mathis Delacourt was. The same as always.
He turned off the water and toweled off, avoiding his reflection in the bathroom mirror. No amount of water could wash away the bitter shame clinging to him.
Some future alpha you are. No drive. No direction. Even your mate is disgusted by you.
Mathis grimaced as he remembered the look on Chloe’s face when he finally managed to control himself enough to look at her. She’d tried to hide it but hadn’t been fast enough.
If he closed his eyes, he could see her now. That sickened look, as though she could barely stand the sight of him. And the anger that blazed out of her with every breath since they’d been herded back into his room.
Of course she hates you. You did this to her. If you hadn’t slept with her last night, she would still be safe.
Barely looking where he was going, Mathis pushed his way through the door back into the bedroom and froze, his hand on the edge of the door.
When he’d left, Chloe was still standing by the wall, as though she was trying to keep as much space between the two of them as possible. Now she was sitting on the bed, her arms around her knees, her dark hair spilling down over her shoulders.
She looked exhausted. If she’d been blazing with anger before, then now the fire was gone, and he was seeing what it had hidden. Too late, Mathis saw through her vicious bluster to the fear she had been hiding beneath.
The empty space inside him twisted and suddenly his lion was there again, roaring protectively. Roaring at him.
“Chloe,” he said, his voice rough. Something inside him died as he saw how she changed as she realized he was watching her. She pulled herself up, her eyes flashing indignantly—but her knuckles were still white where they gripped her knees.
Mathis’ lion bared its teeth inside him, its protective rage burning inside his skin. His lion was protecting its mate.
Protecting her from him.
Shame crashed down on him, so heavy his bones shook under the weight of it. His lion rose up, ready to take advantage of his emotional turmoil to take form and protect Chloe in person.
Mathis pushed it down. They still had to carry out the plan. And for that, he needed to be human.
She was going to reveal shifters to the world, he reminded himself and his lion. She’s dangerous. If she’d managed to get her message out last night…
But his lion wasn’t listening. It hissed at him, lips drawn back over its teeth, and lay in wait inside him, ready to strike the moment his mate needed to be protected.
Mathis dropped his head. “Shower’s free,” he muttered. “And I—where did that come from?”
He stared at the dress hanging from the bedroom door. It reminded him of the sorts of dresses his sister would wear to charity events: sparkly and long. But little as Mathis knew about fashion, he knew Francine wouldn’t be caught dead in a gown that shocking shade of scarlet.
Chloe was glaring at it like it was made of dead rats.
“Julian dropped it off,” she explained, her voice flat. “They want you to fight again in an hour. A proper fight this time, he said. For the guests. To make it look like everything’s business as normal.”
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
Mathis flexed his wrists. He’d healed up from his fight with the polar bear shifter, but—
“This can’t change our plans.”
Chloe’s eyes flicked over to him, then back to the dress. “I know.” She pointed her chin at a battered suitcase beside the door. “He dropped off all my stuff, too, so at least I’ll have something sensible to wear when we leave.”
“Any idea who I’ll be fighting?”
Mathis felt light-headed. A few weeks ago, he would have been asking these questions of Josh Lanyard, or any of the other small-time owners whose gyms he’d fought at. Who’ll I be fighting? What are their tactics? Strong points? Weaknesses? Anything else I should know?
For the first time, he wondered what his human opponents asked about him—and how the owners and managers answered. What rumors had reached Harper’s ears, and led him to find Matt Dell, the fighter who came out of nowhere and laid out everyone who went in the ring with him?
Chloe was shaking her head. “Sorry. He said Harper wanted it to be a surprise.”
Which means she asked. She wanted me to know what to prepare for. Mathis pushed back the flare of warmth that burst inside him. She just doesn’t want you KO’d before you can get her off this island.
Chloe stood up. Mathis swallowed as he saw her knees wobble, just a fraction, before she marched over to her bag. “He’ll be back soon,” she said, her voice clipped. “And I don’t want to go back into that viewing room smelling like fear and blood, so if you’re all done in the shower…”
She snatched the dress off its hanger and stalked past him into the bathroom. Mathis moved out of the way just as she grabbed the door from his hand and slammed it shut.
The shower started a moment later. Mathis groaned and forced himself to go to the other side of the room. He dressed slowly, every movement a fight against his instincts. His lion—his soul—was roaring at him to go to her, to put his arms around her and comfort her, despite everything.
He took a deep breath. Just wait until we’re off the island. Then—then…
He couldn’t let himself think past their escape. The possibilities hurt too much. Especially as the first thing he would have to do when they got off the island was ensure Chloe didn’t reveal the shifters’ secret to the world.
Against his better instincts, Mathis found himself listening intently to the noises coming from the bathroom. The rush of water, and the sputtering drip as Chloe turned off the shower. The soft splash of her feet on the wet floor, and of the towel rubbing against her skin.
Mathis wished he could turn off his ears.
Chloe took a long time finishing up in the bathroom. Mathis had convinced himself that she was staying in there to keep away from him, until the door swung open.
The dress fit Chloe like a glove, clinging to her generous curves and shimmering with every breath she took. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and in the dim light of the bedroom, Chloe’s dark hair and eyes gave the tawdry dress grace and class.
“What do you think?” Chloe mumbled.
Mathis looked at her, hard. “I think you want to tear it off and stuff it down Harper’s throat.”
Chloe’s mouth quirked, and that almost-smile made Mathis’ heart ache. He finished tying his shoes and stood up.
“Chloe, I—”
A knock on the door interrupted him. A moment later, Julian stepped inside, his bottle-green eyes darting from Chloe to Mathis.
“Follow me, please.”
Gritting his teeth, Mathis held the door for Chloe. As they walked down the corridor, she brushed against his arm. Mathis glanced down, and then lowered his head as she whispered:
“There’s something else going on here, I know it.”
Mathis nodded silently. He and Chloe couldn’t be the only people Harper had trapped like this. It was too neat. The way Harper had put him off his guard, delayed him, and closed the trap. Like he’d done it before.
Chloe’s footsteps faltered as they approached the tower. Just as Julian directed Mathis down the corridor to the ring, Chloe grabbed his elbow.
“Try not to hurt them any more than you have to,” she begged him, her face tense. “We don’t know how many of them are—are in the same position.”
“I will,” Mathis reassured her. If I can.
He knew without having to think about it that Harper would have some game around that, as well.
***
The fights went fast. Mathis faced off against the wolf shifter from the night before first, then a pair of coyotes. A caiman, for God’s sake. Mathis would have laughed if it wasn’t so obvious what Harper was doing.
He’d been too bold. Telling Harper about his family—that had been a mistake. And now Harper wanted to take him down a peg.
There hadn’t exactly been time to chat during their bout, but Sven had muttered a few urgent messages while they exchanged blows. He warned Mathis to keep his distance from Chloe—already done. And he’d said something that had made Mathis’ blood chill.
Sven told him he had hoped this wouldn’t happen again. Mathis wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant.
Mathis was bleeding from a dozen wounds by the time the gates opened again, releasing another shifter. If he’d been in human form, Mathis would have gone green.
The shifter was a young woman, in her mid-twenties at the most, with dark skin and close-cropped curly hair. Mathis could hear her teeth chattering from where he stood on the other side of the ring.
And that was all he could hear.
With the other fighters, he had been aware of a sort of psychic background hum, an overflow of the shifters’ telepathic abilities. Not sentences, or even words, but a push of feeling: adrenaline, violence, steely determination. Not enough to tell Mathis whether they were here willingly or not, but enough that he knew they would fight to the best of their abilities.
But not this woman. All Mathis felt from her was a blank, and it disturbed him more than any amount of bloodlust.
Mathis shook his mane out, huffing uncomfortably. He prowled back and forth as the woman stood, panting, but not moving.
Chloe was right. There is something deeply wrong here.
He glanced up at the window. Chloe’s scarlet dress was like an emergency flare, and a constant reminder of why he was here.
She was standing next to Harper.
Mathis snarled, fangs bared at the man who had imprisoned his mate, and the broken shifter woman struck.
He heard the slip of her bare feet against the concrete and turned just in time to see her shift mid-air, her body twisting and shrinking. Mathis reared back, ready to meet her attack.
When he saw what she was shifting into, he hesitated, horror filling him long enough for the ibex shifter to land, slice razor-sharp horns against the wound in his side, and leap away again.
Her hooves clattered on the concrete floor as Mathis sank down, bile filling his gut. An ibex. The creature was barely three feet tall at the shoulder, a fleet-footed, delicate herbivore.
A prey animal. No wonder her mind was whited out with fear.
Mathis padded sideways, feeling sick. Was this another of Harper’s games? It had to be. Pitting him against a prey shifter.
Cold dread boiled in his stomach. What does he expect me to do? Fight her?
He sent out a tentative telepathic nudge to the ibex shifter, trying to reassure her that he didn’t mean her any harm. It didn’t get through. Her terror was so overwhelming it created a psychic barrier around her mind. Mathis’ message glanced off it like oil off water.
Mathis huffed again. He knew he could only stall for so long. That was how Harper had set two coyotes against him earlier—he’d balked against fighting a shifter so much smaller than himself, and Harper had sent out a second to attack him in tandem.
What would he do if Mathis refused to fight now?
He could guess.
Hurt him—or hurt Chloe.
Mathis growled, lowering himself to pounce. *I’m sorry* he sent out to the ibex shifter, knowing it was useless. *I don’t want to be here anymore than you do.*
He began to stalk the ibex around the ring, keeping low to the ground. He’d won all of the fights so far, but his healing abilities weren’t keeping up with his injuries. The ibex had ripped open the bite wound in his side, and then there was his shoulder—again, damn it—scratches to his face, bites on his back and legs—
Mathis was caught off guard as the ibex lowered her head and charged. He crouched defensively, but the ibex was too fast. So graceful it was almost like a dance, she leapt around Mathis, targeting his wounds with her horns and surprisingly sharp hooves.
Confused, Mathis jumped back. Pain lanced through his side and he roared, which sent the ibex skittering back.
But only for a moment. A heartbeat later and she was back, single-minded with bloodlust.
Mathis dodged as much as he could, but wherever he moved she was there already, ready to slice at him and dart away again. He roared again, dread settling in his stomach. Was this what Harper wanted? For him to be driven to seriously hurt this unhinged shifter?
*What did he do to you?* he asked desperately. There was no response.
The next time the ibex rushed him, Mathis struck out. The ibex skittered away just in time and Mathis lunged heavily, overbalanced.
Inspiration struck.
He was bleeding. Injured. Exhausted. If Harper wanted to humiliate him by making him fight a deranged prey shifter—why not let her beat him?
But he couldn’t make it seem like he was throwing the match. He couldn’t risk Harper knowing it was a trick. God alone knew what he would do if he figured it out.
So the next time the ibex came near Mathis struck out again, and lost his footing; when he stumbled back, he held his head low, panting. He favored his un-injured side as he circled around the small deer. Blinked, and shook his head, as though his vision was blurring.
He let the ibex strike him, until his limping steps were only half-fake.
At last, and only when he thought Harper must be convinced it was real, Mathis stumbled and fell. The ibex was on him at once, dancing around and slicing at him. He flinched instinctively as she hit his side again, lashing out with a rear leg, then subsided, belly-up.
And the ibex attacked him again.
Mathis twisted, glancing up at Harper. This wasn’t right. Every fight, every one, ended when one shifter showed their belly. The classic sign of submission.
He lay back and the ibex rushed at him again. This time he barely managed to roll to his feet to protect the delicate skin of his underside.
*What are you doing? We can end this now!*
No response. It was like shouting at a wall.
Mathis tried to get to his feet but this time his leg collapsed under him for real. He braced himself as the ibex charged him, ripping at his shoulder with her horns. He swung his head to bite her but she was gone, again, and then pain burst in his side, along his back, his rear leg—
Somewhere, metal clashed on metal. The smell of human-shaped shifters broke through the smell of blood and strong arms pulled the ibex off him. Mathis twisted around in time to see two burly men wrestling her into submission as a third injected her with something. He recognized one of them: Sven. His first opponent the night before, and tonight.
*What the hell is going on?* he shot at the wolf shifter, who just shook his head.
*You should have joined us for that drink, Dell. Would have got you up to speed.*
The men dragged the unconscious ibex out, leaving Mathis alone in the fighting ring.
He dragged himself around until he could look up at Harper again. He focused his gaze, refusing to look at Chloe even though she was still standing right next to the monster.
What must she think of me, after seeing that? The thought scraped at his insides, hollowing him out.
Harper was holding a glass of champagne. He sipped it, looking down at Mathis with unreadable flat eyes, and after what felt like an eternity stretched out one hand to press the intercom.
“Thank you, Mr.—aha—Dell. That will do for tonight.” He paused. “Now, ladies and gentlemen, as the victor is indisposed, Mr. Dell will be joining us tonight to answer any of your questions…”
Mathis groaned, dropping his head. This charade again.
The fight had already gone on longer than he’d hoped. If they were going to leave tonight, they were running out of time.