CHAPTER 3
MATHIS
Mathis leaned into the breeze as the boat made the final approach to the pier. The island was a few hours’ journey from shore, a long, thin strip of land that barely seemed to reach out of the turquoise waters.
From the boat, Mathis could see a white sand beach leading up to rolling lawns spotted with lush palms. A large building made of some sort of pale yellow stone jutted up from the pleasant landscape, incongruous and unmissable. Mathis narrowed his eyes against the sea-spray, racking his memory.
Have I ever heard anyone talk about a shifter who lives out this way? One wealthy enough to have a place like this?
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
Mathis was about the reply in the negative, but checked himself. So far as Gerald Harper and his friends knew, Mathis was just Matt Dell, not the heir to a wealthy New York pride. Mathis wanted to keep the charade up for as long as possible.
“It sure is something,” he said instead, trying to look suitably impressed. The man who’d spoken was one of Harper’s other guests, a middle-aged man with grey streaks in his dark blond hair. As he moved closer, Mathis got a whiff of lion from him. His own lion tensed inside him, on edge at the presence of a male lion from another pride.
Something must have shown in his eyes, because the other man stepped back, holding up his hands. “Hey, easy there. Save it for the ring, Simba.”
Mathis smiled self-deprecatingly. “Sorry, sir. This is all a bit new to me.”
“Haven’t spent much time around your own kind, huh?”
“I guess not,” Mathis lied reluctantly. Not unless you count my pride, my friends, half the people I grew up around…
But that was Mathis Delacourt. If this guy wanted to believe that Matt Dell was a loner who didn’t know much about shifters, who was Mathis to argue?
“Well, you’re in for a treat tonight, then,” the man said, grinning. “So are we all! I don’t think old Ger’s managed to get a lion in rotation all the time I’ve known him.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Never had the chance to fight other shifters before.”
The man clapped him on the shoulder and Mathis bit back his lion’s roar of injured pride. “Well, don’t let the side down, huh? Us lions have got to stick together.”
Mathis watched the other lion shifter wander back down the deck, hands in his pockets. It had taken the entire conversation, but he’d finally placed him. Grayson Masters, the uncle of the current alpha of the Masters pride.
Mathis had never met Grayson or his alpha before in person, but Grayson had done some business with his twin sister Francine a few years back. Mathis remembered him from the promotional photos.
And he’d heard of the pride. It was a tragic story. The previous alpha and his mate had been killed in a terrible accident when the current alpha—Leon, Mathis thought his name was—had been still in school. Grayson had taken the boy under his wing.
He must be in his twenties by now, Mathis thought. No sign of him here, though. And Grayson didn’t recognize me.
Mathis frowned. What would he have done if Grayson had recognized him? His façade had worked in the underground bouts he’d been fighting in so far, but he was playing with fire coming here.
He shook his head. It wouldn’t be a problem. If anyone did confront him, he could play it off as a joke. He was still young enough to pass the whole thing off as some sort of youthful acting-out, after all.
He couldn’t tell them the truth. That there was a deep, ravenous emptiness inside him, a hunger for something he couldn’t name. Falling into the deep focus that fighting required was the only thing that seemed to silence it. And even that only lasted until the fight was over.
Not when he was fighting humans, at least. If he was up against another shifter…
Mathis was still lost in his own thoughts when the boat nudged up against the wharf. A young man in a white uniform secured the boat and then helped the guests step out onto dry land.
Gerald Harper caught Mathis’ attention while the luggage was being unloaded. He waved to the tall, black-haired man who had appeared at his side.
“Mathis, this is my assistant, Julian. He’ll show you to your quarters, and let you know how things run here.”
Mathis looked Julian up and down, his nostrils flaring. Julian was a shifter too, he was sure of it—just as sure as he was that the guy who’d handed him off the boat was some sort of wading bird. But he couldn’t get a fix on what Julian’s animal was.
He shook Julian’s hand. There was something there, a sense of power, and lithe grace—and that was as far as Mathis got.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said, trying not to let his frustration show on his face.
“Likewise,” Julian replied in a cool voice. “If you’ll follow me?”
Mathis did so, his rucksack slung over one shoulder. Julian led him up the white gravel path to the resort proper.
Closer to, Mathis could see that the yellow stone buildings were made of some sort of sandstone—a risky choice, for a building this exposed to the elements. Pits and crevices were already beginning to form where the sea and wind had attacked it.
“Looks like Harper’s gone to a lot of expense for a house that’ll be half eroded away in ten years’ time,” he mentioned, running his ringer along a crack in the wall as they passed by the main building.
Julian shrugged, his green eyes flat, and said nothing. Mathis snorted. Guess he doesn’t want to badmouth his employer in front of the new guy.
He dutifully tailed Julian up the shallow hill the resort butted up against. Over the ridge—if you could call it that—was another building, just as scarred and pitted as the first. Mathis’ home for the next few months, he guessed.
He blinked in surprise as Julian led him inside. After months of concrete and lino floors, the wood and tile of the fighters’ quarters was bafflingly opulent. His own rooms—rooms, not a cot in a dorm—were on the fourth floor.
“This suite will be yours during your stay here,” Julian declared, waving one hand in a lazy arc that encompassed the room and doors leading off to a bathroom and walk-in closet. “The other fighters are on the lower levels, but you’re the only one on this floor. We don’t have a full house at the moment. Perhaps you’ll enjoy the privacy; I know not all of Harper’s contracts are here to make friends.” His mouth snapped shut on that last bit, as though he had to stop himself from saying more.
Mathis heaved his bag onto the king-sized bed. “Other fighters, huh? Anything you can tell me about them?”
He only half-listened to Julian’s reply. There was an unusual scent in the air, something warm and inviting. Not the floral air freshener, not the clean linen smell of the sheets—something else. Something enticing.
“…have all been with us for some time. A few wolf shifters, and one coyote. Mr. Harper’s last star fighter was an orangutan shifter, but he is no longer… no longer with the establishment.”
Julian’s cool green eyes followed Mathis around the room. Mathis knew he was prowling. He couldn’t help it. Where was the scent coming from? He had to know.
Julian coughed softly. “Dinner is served at seven. As you’ll still be settling in, I’ll send one of the staff around with your meal. Wash, change, and be ready for the first bout at nine. I’ll return then to show you to the ring.”
Mathis raised his eyebrows. “I don’t get to see the ring before we start?” He waved it off before Julian could open his mouth to reply. “Nah, don’t worry about it. One ring’s much like another, right?”
“Right,” Julian echoed, a hint of irony in his voice.
Mathis’ lion grumbled inside him. He was chasing his tail—whatever or whoever had left the scent was long gone. Instead, he tried to remember what Julian had just said about his competitors. “Wolf shifters, you said? What, a pack of them, or something?”
“No, several independents. Mr. Harper isn’t interested in melee fights, only one-on-one. At least, as long as I’ve known him.”
“You’ve worked with him for a while?”
Julian smiled thinly and without humor. “You could say that. Though, I’m not the only one. Some of the shifters have been here for years.”
“Mr. Harper must pay well.” Mathis’ attention was drifting again. That smell…
Out of the corner of his eye, Mathis saw Julian give that thin smile again. “We’ve all got something keeping us on the island,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you at nine.”