Shock had set in. She couldn’t stop shaking and her face hurt where she’d been hit.

Zara had given up on standing and glaring defiantly at her asshole of a father. He was hamming it up, sitting on a raised dais to her left like some sort of benevolent king. Which was just what he was doing, setting himself up as a challenger to Logan. Like that was going to work out well. For him.

Instead, she sat at the back of her cage with her arms looped around her knees. Thankfully the cage was set against the wall so no one could sneak up on her. No, if someone wanted to get to her, they were going to have to come through the front door of the cage and drag her out.

She snorted. Good fucking luck with that. She’d done enough self-defense classes to know all the moves for confined spaces, plus she still had her shoes. Stiletto heels made awesome weapons in a pinch.

Shivers rolled down her spine, spreading out through her body in unstoppable waves. Lifting a hand, she rubbed gingerly at the side of her face, probing the inside of her cheek with her tongue. Brad had clocked her good and hard when he’d taken her from in front of her apartment. Her cheek was lacerated on the inside and sore as all hell. She shoved her tongue hard against the cuts and savored the pain, using it to fuel her rage against her father.

He was to blame for all this. It was bad enough when they thought he’d fucked off with the money to live it up in the Hawaii with his bimbo, but to find out he’d left them at the king’s mercy knowing Logan would probably have them killed…it pissed her off to levels she’d never experienced before. A growl rolled from the back of her throat… just give her five minutes with the guy. She’d happily take him apart with her bare hands.

The anger rose higher and higher, like bile in the back of her throat. Hot and acidic, it ate away at her control, increasing the thudding in her head to skull-splitting proportions. Her vision shifted, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she could swear her body was changing somehow. Blackness started to infiltrate the edges of her vision and panic set in. Shit, she’d known this was coming. Her headaches were sometimes so severe that she blacked out and this one was a total dozy. But she couldn’t pass out, not here. She’d be totally helpless and at Niko and her father’s mercy.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her breathing. In and out, in and out. Inflating her lungs and deflating them as she opened her eyes and expanded her senses. Focusing on the lights above the bars of her cage, she listened to the sounds around her. The sounds of the crowd watching the fight, the compere’s voice as he announced the next fight and the prize…the moan of distress from a cage over on the other side of the room.

Music blared as the fighters entered the ring, but she didn’t look away from the lights, not just yet. The noise level was loud but the smell…fuck, that was even worse. It was like someone had ramped the volume on her nose to full, ramming all the scents in the room right up her nostrils.

Mold and decay from the surroundings vied with cheap cigar smoke and cheaper cologne. Fuck, she’d thought the clientele from the Moon was bad but this lot were a thousand times worse. No wonder they used abandoned properties. She wouldn’t trust this lot with even plastic chairs from a fast food joint.

There was another smell under all the crap — one she couldn’t identify. Dropping her gaze from the lights, she looked around, trying to isolate the source. What the hell was that? It was a sharp, full smell…almost but not quite funky, like milk on the turn…but sharp and haunting at the same time.

Her gaze connected with the occupant of the cage next to her and she knew what it was. It was despair and fear. How the fuck was she smelling that? Shoving the thought away, she shook her head. No way could she be smelling stuff like that. That was shifter territory and she was so not a shifter. If she was, she’d be out of this cage in an instant and Daddy-dearest would be dead meat.

Looking away, she concentrated on the cages. Three were now empty, their occupants already won. None had put up a fight as their new owners had hauled them away, literally in one case. That left just three: the unconscious guy, the unicorn and her. The guy was the prize for the next fight, and then it was Zara. It had stung a little to realize that she wasn’t the evening’s grand prize but, with a unicorn here, she was never going to be.

Her gaze crept sideways to the girl again. She looked terrified, crouched in the corner of her cage with her arms wrapped around herself as she rocked backward and forward. Zara caught her gaze and offered a smile. Small comfort, but it was all she could offer.

At least it was a female, and not a juvenile male. If it had been, chances are none of them would have made it out alive. All the myths and legends about unicorns were fucked up six ways to Sunday. The females? Total myth material. Benign and gentle, they were so beautiful in human form that they were rare and prized, hunted by powerful men for things like this.

The males? Forget the stories, they were predators through and through. Born in equine form, they were highly carnivorous and would hunt anything that moved. Usually, they were kept under control by their sires…but she had heard horror stories of when they’d gotten loose. A cutesy dog-size unicorn that hunted by luring its prey with pheromones? She shuddered, the zombie apocalypse would be easier to contain.

But if a male was looking for this one? They were all fucked, and not in a good way.

* * *

Blood got sticky when it dried. Especially weredog blood.

Logan sighed to himself as he strode out of the third rundown location he and Gage had raided that evening, wiping his hands clean on a rag. Wrinkling his nose at the stench that rose from the cloth, he threw it to the side and flexed his knuckles. The asshole had put up a hell of a fight, but Logan and Gage hadn’t been in the mood to piss about, not with what they’d found out today.

Johnno, the fighter from the Moon they’d put undercover, had come up with the goods. He’d infiltrated the underground fight network easily, texting them addresses to bust as he tried to track down where the big fight this evening was going down. He was the point of the operation for the moment, while Logan and Gage were cleanup duty.

Logan curled his lips back from his teeth, letting his lion loose a little to snarl. The deep sound rumbled around the filthy alley. As soon as the lad gave them a location for the fight, then all of them… all of Logan’s crew…were going to war. He was going to end this once and for all.

A sound behind him made him turn. Gage emerged through the door, his arm around a young woman wrapped in a blanket. She was pale, her face bruised and her expression haunted. Logan nodded to let Gage know the coast was clear. His expression hardened as he watched the big wereleopard walk the girl carefully to the cars.

Disgust filled him and his lion as he strode to his car and slid behind the wheel. The bastards were trafficking sex slaves. Rather than offer a cash prize for the winners, they were snatching girls like the one Gage was gently putting in the car. She had leopard blood but wasn’t a full shifter. Logan’s first instinct when they’d found her, crying as her “owner”…

Rage threatened to overwhelm him again but he fought it back. Fights should be about skill and ability… and yes, money. Although some people argued it should be for the joy of the sport and being paid somehow diminished that, no fighter could live on fresh air and exposure. Reputation alone didn’t pay the bills nor put food on the table. This ended. Tonight. He was going to bring hell down on these assholes and send them down into its fiery embrace.

But what if Zara was the prize… the little voice in the back of his head wanted to know. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against his hands on the wheel and turned that thought over in his mind. Then he rejected it utterly. He’d taken away her choices once, and that was enough. She had to come to him of her own volition, or not at all.

“You fucking idiot, Logan.” He groaned, sitting back and slamming his hands against the wheel.

And he was. He’d screwed things up totally with her. Asked her to marry him but not told her how he felt. Told her it was a PR stunt, that it was to wipe the rest of her debt…anything to avoid making himself vulnerable. Anything to avoid exposing himself to the possibility that she might say no and walk away. Anything to avoid admitting how he felt.

Opening his eyes, he watched Gage’s taillights disappear out of the alley. He was alone. So how did he feel?

That was easy. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Zara didn’t just run through his mind, she’d moved in and taken up residence. There for his every waking thought and inhabiting his dreams. He found himself making mental notes to remember things about his day to tell her and smiling when he saw something he knew she’d like. He was perpetually making plans to take her places that would please her and get her to smile at him from under her lashes the way she did when she thought he wasn’t looking.

He was addicted to her kisses and the taste of her lips. To touching her and the way she smelled, like sweet summer and haunting femininity in some nameless floral symphony that was uniquely hers. He loved the way she felt tucked under his arm against his side and stretched out under him in bed, moaning in pleasure.

And fuck were they compatible in bed. Just a little glance from her was enough to short-circuit all of his higher brain functions and have him operating with just the little head, ready to go in a heartbeat. Ready to act out a thousand dirty fantasies centered solely on her…or to just hold her in his arms as he took her gently, watching her shatter in ecstasy knowing his touch had brought her to that.

The thought of losing all that, of losing her, had him sucking a hard breath in. Just the chance he might never have all that again almost shattered him.

He was in love with her. Totally, head over heels in love with her, and he was an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

He had to tell her.

Desperate determination filled him and he started the car. The engine roared to life, the big car jerking slightly as he rammed it into gear and sped off down the alley.

He had to see her… Had to kiss her and tell her how he felt.

He had to tell her that he loved her…

And pray that she felt the same.

The journey to Zara’s place didn’t take him long, not when he was breaking all the speed limits and running red lights where he could. Within minutes he found himself pulling up at the curb outside. He looked up at the building, only for his heart to fall.

All her lights were off. Something was wrong.

He’d driven past here enough times late at night to know that she always left the lamp in the living room on. The light peeking through the blinds had been a beacon to let him know that she was tucked up safe and sound. Tonight there was no beacon. All the windows were dark.

“Shit.” He threw the door open and surged out of the car in a move that wasn’t even pretending to be human.

Panic started to well, his lion trying to push free of his control to deal with the possible threat to their mate. He gritted his teeth against the throb in his head and carried on walking. His chest ached, heart pounding as it fought to enlarge and change shape to power his shift, but he held it in check. He even held his lion back as his vision grayed out and his sense of smell ramped up to fever pitch, and then he pushed it back with the ease of long practice.

His lion was a jerk, always pushing its boundaries, so he was used to keeping it under control. Even now, when he was about to freak out, he knew he had to keep control. There was a time and place for the beast, but that was not now. Right now he needed to think clearly.

He was still feet away from her door when he caught the scent of blood and froze. Blood. Not much but enough. And not just any blood. Zara’s blood. Tipping his head back, he let his lion free enough to roar his rage to the night sky above, his claws bursting free from the tips of his fingers.

His cell rang, the vibration hitting his thigh. Yanking it out of his pocket, he almost smashed the screen with his claws when he answered it.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Gage,” the voice on the other end answered. “Johnno rang. They have Hunter’s girl.”

* * *

She was running out of time. Seriously running out of time.

Panic gripped Zara as the evening progressed and Niko’s fight, the one he intended to win her in, got closer. She’d been so sure that Logan would have shown up by now. There was no way he couldn’t know about all this, surely? She knew he’d been tracking down the organizers of the underground fights and with the current clientele… she cast a look around at the crowd watching the ring avidly. They were lowlife scum, the lot of them. The type that would sell their own mothers out if it would benefit them. One of them would have talked for sure.

But he wasn’t here. There wasn’t even a hint of his familiar, broad-shouldered figure amongst the shadowy shapes at the back of the room. She worried at her lower lip, trying to keep a lookout and watch the goings on in the ring at the same time.

The current action in the ring was bloody and brutal. The two fighters circled one another and it was easy to see the smaller man was outmatched. His opponent was huge, with shoulders as wide as a barn and a murderous expression on his face. For all his size though, he was lightning fast and relentless, raining down blow after blow on his opponent.

Shit. That fight wasn’t going to last long.

Fuck prince charming… she’d have to rescue herself.

With no sign of the cavalry in sight, Zara turned her attention to the cage around her. It was a crude construction, the bars steel and welded sloppily at the joints. Hand over hand and using her body weight, she tested each one for movement. If just one was loose, she might have half a chance. Sure, she might not be a shifter, but thanks to the cat blood that flowed through her veins, she was a lot stronger than a normal human woman of her size. If one of these suckers moved even a fraction, she’d rip the damn thing out with her bare hands.

Every bar was rock solid though, not even the hint of a wiggle when she yanked on them. Niko, standing by the side of the ring, noticed her preoccupation and laughed.

“That thing can hold me, doll. You ain’t getting out of there until you’re mine.”

She ignored him, turning her back to test the bars on the sides. No luck. All she managed to do was slice her hand on an edge that hadn’t been smoothed to a round. The scent of blood welled in the air, matching her rising panic. Her head throbbed and her heart pounded again. Even her face ached like it was the wrong shape. She hissed and closed her eyes for a moment as the headache tried to reassert itself. Fucking thing. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.

Grimly, she pushed it back down. Not here, not now. If she got out of this…then she’d fall apart and sleep for a week…but right now, she didn’t have that luxury.

She snapped her eyes open and carried on working her way around the cage. Her world was reduced to grabbing the next bar and yanking, throwing her bodyweight against the metal in the hopes it would move.

The crowd roared, signaling the end of the current fight, and her heart all but stalled in her chest. Shit, that meant Niko was up next. Out of bars to try, she retreated to the back of the cage and looked at the ring.

The big guy had won. No surprise there. He stood in the middle of the ring, his hand shoved high in the air by the referee. His expression didn’t change as he looked around the crowd and, just for a moment, scales swept over his skin.

Her eyes widened in surprise. Holy hell, with those yellow eyes and the scales… he had to be a werecroc. They weren’t rare exactly, but to see one in the city was unusual. Really freaking unusual.

He pulled his hand back out of the referee’s before the crowd had finished roaring, sliding between the ropes to stand in front of a cage. Zara edged to the side to get a better view. It was the one with the unconscious man in it.

An official hurried forward, casting the big croc a nervous glance as he fumbled with the lock on the door. She didn’t blame him for being worried. Every line in the werecroc’s body radiated impatience, and as soon as the door was open, he shoved the official out of the way and ducked into the small enclosure.

As one, the crowd held their breath, expecting blood and chaos. They didn’t get it. Instead, the big croc knelt down and carefully lifted the smaller man in his arms. Cradling his unconscious burden almost tenderly, he backed out of the cage and stood to his full height.

His yellow-eyed gaze sought James on his dais. The look dripped with venom and warning. She sucked in a breath. There was no need for anyone who witnessed that look to be a telepath. It said that if the other man was hurt in any way shape or form, the croc was coming back to deal with James.

She almost hoped the other guy was hurt, even if only a papercut, just so she could see that showdown.

The croc turned and walked away, each step dignified until he disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the room.

“And next up in the red corner…” the compere announced, his voice ringing around the room, “is a fighter who needs no fancy-ass introductions. It’s Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiko!”

Heavy music blared from the speakers around the ring as the hastily rigged lights focused on the big werebear strutting around the ring, arms out as he basked in the adulation of the crowd.

Her lip curled up as she fought the urge to laugh. This was fucking rich. The daft motherfucker was lording it up like he was some kind of gladiatorial hero. She had news for him. He was a second-rate, punk-ass fighter who wouldn’t make it on the main circuit. No doubt that was the reason he’d disappeared into the shadows like he had. Big fish in a small pond…it was the only way he could win.

“And in the blue corner, we have a new fighter. It’s Johnson Blllllack!”