Deal or no deal, the demon was the toughest opponent Ewan had ever fought. Resilient. Strong. Skilled and formidable. Quick and agile. Not to mention armed with deadly hellfire. Had this been a true test of skill and battle to the death, it would’ve been hours—hell, maybe even days—before a victor was crowned. It didn’t help that Ewan’s attention was divided between the fight in front of him and searching the crowd for any sign of Sasha.
He swore to the gods, if any harm came to her, he would kill every creature who’d had a hand in it.
A fist came out of nowhere and landed squarely on Ewan’s jaw. In the past twenty-four hours he’d been beaten, burned, and carved like a Thanksgiving turkey. Twice. His entire world had been turned on its head and he was fucking exhausted. The only positive thing to come out of dying in the arena tonight was the prospect of finally being able to get some gods-damned rest.
Ewan straightened as he shook off the lightheadedness from the force of the demon’s blow. He countered with a series of roundhouse kicks and artfully orchestrated hooks that put the demon flat on his ass. He might have agreed to die tonight, but before he did, Ewan planned to get his licks in.
The demon glared up at him with a cruel sneer. Hellfire sprang to life in his palm and he threw a fireball straight at Ewan’s face. Ewan dove to his left, narrowly missing the projectile that crashed through the webbing of silver that constructed the dome and into the crowd before it exploded into flames.
Ewan pushed himself up from the floor as he took in the scene of chaos that erupted around him. Well, this wasn’t fucking good. The hellfire would burn until it exhausted itself, drawing attention away from the fight. With fewer eyes to watch their performance, less money would exchange hands. It certainly wouldn’t make that bastard demon kingpin, Sorath, happy but that’s what the son of a bitch got for allowing his fighter to use hellfire in the arena. Ewan had made no agreement to help line the demons’ pockets. He’d simply agreed to die.
The hellfire and commotion surrounding the fight added another layer of bullshit for Ewan to try to ignore. He couldn’t let it concern him. He needed to keep his head in the game and live long enough to see Sasha alive and well. Ewan centered his focus and went after his opponent before he had the presence of mind to defend himself. He allowed every ounce of anger he felt, all of his heartache at leaving Sasha behind, all of his frustration for the cards he’d been dealt in this miserable life to fuel him as he pummeled the demon with his fists, elbows, knees, and feet. He grabbed the bastard by his shoulders, and delivered a head butt with so much force behind it that it cracked Ewan’s own skull.
Tendrils of heat coursed through his veins. Battle rage crested within him, tightened his skin, and flooded his muscles. His vision shifted from full color to black-and-white and he felt the inevitable shift that would soon consume him and turn him into nothing more than a killing machine. Hold on. Don’t let it take you. Stay in control. Ewan balanced on the cusp of that force that threatened to overtake him. He drew from its power, allowing it to fuel his actions without losing himself completely to its seductive pull. He didn’t know how long he could hold on this way. Sooner or later, he’d have to tip one way or the other. And succumbing to the battle rage wasn’t an option.
Another fireball flew toward Ewan and he spun away. It caught him in the shoulder before deflecting and spiraling out toward the crowd in another bright orange, green, and blue explosion. He put the various screams and alarmed shouts to the back of his mind. He turned inward from the searing pain that radiated from his shoulder down his forearm. Instead, he focused on the demon’s smug expression and vowed to use his fist to wipe it from the asshole’s ugly face.
The demon’s lips pulled back into a vicious, pointy-toothed smile. “You’re going to die screaming, berserker.”
Gods, how he hated big talk. As though Ewan’s death would be on any terms other than his own. They’d been fighting for a good hour. The momentum continued to toggle between them. Give-and-take, a violent battle dance that held the eager crowd enthralled. Where was Sasha? Why hadn’t they brought her here yet? A million scenarios presented themselves to Ewan, none of which had her surviving the encounter. Ewan knew Sasha’s nature. Knew it as well as he knew his own. She would’ve tried to escape captivity. She would’ve put up a fight. What if she’d been hurt? What if she was already dead and he was doing all of this for nothing? Ewan’s heart stuttered in his chest. If that were the case, he’d prefer to die than live in a world without her in it.
Hellfire burned all around him. His opponent circled him, waiting for the opportunity to land a damaging blow. The crowd cheered, screamed, pressed toward the webbed silver cage of the battle arena as they tried to escape the undying flames. Ewan could think of no better way to go out. He hoped this fucking place and all the greedy creatures within it burned to the ground. The only thing that would make this moment more perfect would be the opportunity to take in the perfection of Sasha’s beauty one last time before he checked out.
“Ewan! I see her! She’s alive!”
From the right side of the arena, close to cage, Drew’s voice rose above the din to drill into Ewan’s brain. He scanned the crowd, frantic for a glimpse of her but unable to find her in the midst of so much chaos. It tore at his heart that he wouldn’t behold her beauty again. But she was safe, or at least, she would be when he was dead. She was alive. And that’s all that mattered.
Ewan dropped to his knees. The demon’s eyes narrowed and a confident smirk curved his lips. I love you, Sasha. His only regret, was that he’d never been able to say the words she deserved to hear aloud. I love you. Ewan’s eyes drifted shut as he waited for the killing blow. Time to leave this miserable life behind …
“Ewan!”
Sasha’s voice was a beacon that reached out to him. Ewan’s eyes flew open and he scanned the crowd. There! She wound her way through the press of people, alone. She waved her arms above her head as though to gain his attention. Silver cuffs circle her wrists but she showed no other sign of captivity. Not a single demon held her, stood near her, or followed her.
“Ewan!” she shouted again. “Fight, gods-damn it! Don’t you dare die!”
She was free? How? The demon came at him, hellfire blazing in both of his palms. Ewan didn’t have time to contemplate the hows and whys of Sasha’s apparent freedom. She wanted him to fight. And gods-damn it, that’s exactly what he was going to do.
Battle rage surged within him as Ewan rolled to his left, narrowly avoiding the demon’s killing blow. His opponent let out an angry snarl that only served to encourage Ewan as he allowed the battle rage that built within him to once again take hold. He held the strongest pull of it at bay, refusing to completely lose sight of Sasha. He was prepared to end this miserable bastard—and every last demon who meant to do them harm—but he had to know she remained safe. He’d take care of the threat in front of him first, and one by one eliminate every last one of Sorath’s minions, including the kingpin himself, when he was done.
He had so much life left to live, and he planned to spend every minute of it with Sasha.
“You’re going to pay for this, berserker!” the demon shouted. “You and that bitch vampire!”
The demon’s insults only fueled Ewan’s rage. His focus sharpened as he rushed at his opponent and took him down to the floor in a full-body tackle. The tables had turned and the crowd knew it. Those spectators unconcerned with the hellfire surrounding them roared and shared their approval as he laid his fists into the demon’s face, chest, and torso. Ewan’s arms moved in a blur of motion. The force behind each and every punch was meant to disable, to cripple, to debilitate. The demon was resilient, but not half as resilient as Ewan. Not half as strong. He lacked Ewan’s conviction. His need to persevere. Ewan was inexhaustible. Unkillable. He was a berserker warlord.
He didn’t know how to lose.
The scent of Sasha’s fear invaded Ewan senses. He looked up from pummeling the demon to death to find her engaged with the very same creatures that had taken her captive. She swung out with a machete, showcasing the abilities of a trained warrior. Ewan had never been so in awe of her, or so fucking scared for her. She needed him. Time to end this bullshit and protect his mate.
Ewan reached down and grabbed the demon’s head. He gave it a sound twist and the bones cracked as skin and sinew teared. The demon went limp beneath him as one last ragged, wet breath rattled in his lungs.
He was the king of the battle arena. Invincible. And now, he would make an example of the demons and show every soul present why he was a male worthy of not only their respect, but their fear. And with any luck, Gregor would hear about all of it and learn to fear him as well.
Ewan didn’t wait for the cage to be lifted. Instead, he reached for the webbing of silver bars and spread them apart with brute force until he’d made an opening wide enough for his body to slip through. He rushed through the crowd, shoving at any creature who got in his way. No doubt the outcome of tonight’s fight had pissed off a good chunk of the supernatural underground’s population. He’d deal with those bastards, too, if they had a problem with him. Later. Right now, he had more demons to kill.
* * *
Sasha’s heart had leapt into her throat as she’d watched Ewan go to his knees, prepared to die. For her. He couldn’t possibly have been willing to sacrifice himself and at the same time betray her to Gregor. Could he? There had to be an explanation for it all and she was more than willing to hear him out. They simply had to survive the night first.
The stench of sulfur floated around her and Sasha’s senses switched to battle mode. She’d disrupted the demons’ plans and no doubt they’d try to kill her for it. That wasn’t going to happen, though. Not tonight. Not any night. Sasha refused to bow. She refused to give up. And she refused to accept anything other than victory. She was the daughter of a warrior. The protégé of an assassin. Sasha Ivanov would show her foes why they should fear her. She was the bringer of death and these demons were her prey.
Sasha held the machete aloft as she adopted a defensive stance. In the background, Ewan fought for his life and she had to trust he’d come out the victor. She had faith and that’s all that mattered. Together, though separate, they would eradicate this threat.
“Fucking bitch! I’m going to gut you before I burn you to ash!”
The demon she hadn’t managed to kill on the street came at her, hellfire blazing in his palm. He threw the orb of supernatural fire at her and she narrowly missed it, though she felt the lick of flames on her cheek. The fireball smashed into the far wall of the building, erupting into a third fire that only added to the chaos around her. Spectators began to flee the building, most of them unwilling to risk being burned to death in order to witness the outcome of the fight.
Smart. The more of them that evacuated the space, the better.
Several more demons joined the melee, and Sasha prepared for the attack. She was outnumbered, but the odds didn’t bother her. She’d been in dicey situations like this before. She could handle this.
“Sasha!”
She looked to her left to find a shock of blond hair moving toward her from the crowd that flowed in the opposite direction. Lucas pushed his way through the obstacles that separated them, armed with a pair of daggers and an angry expression that made him look anything but innocent. She let out a sigh of relief as she said a silent prayer of thanks. She had no idea how Lucas had found her, but she was damn glad he had.
“Aim for the throat!” she shouted over the roar of flames and commotion of the crowd. “They’re most vulnerable there!”
The demon advanced on her with a wide sweep of his arm. Sasha ducked and jabbed with the machete, catching him in the gut for the second time that night. They were strong and resilient, but demons weren’t exactly the best fighters. They should’ve stuck to wielding hellfire and left their weapons at home. She pulled back her arm and swept the blade to her right in an uppercut, driving the blade through the throat of a second attacker. The male’s eyes went wide with surprise and the hellfire died in his palm as he crumpled to his knees. Sasha wasn’t about to leave him simply wounded and able to heal. She let out a shout as she sliced the blade through the thick muscle of his neck, severing his head from his shoulders.
“You’re going to die, vampire!” the demon she’d gutted twice in one night shouted.
She spun with a wide sweep of her arm and cut his head from his shoulders as well.
Sasha hated shit-talk.
The scent of sulfur flooded her nostrils. Hellfire raged around her, incinerating everything in its path. It wouldn’t be long before it consumed the building entirely, but it didn’t stop the demons from attacking. They were immune, after all. Sasha had only one choice: stand and fight. She only hoped she didn’t burn to death in the process.
Lucas entered the fray, fast and nimble, the silver of his daggers glinting off the bright, multicolored lights of the fires. He jabbed and parried, swung wide and cut down with his massive arms, bringing as much damage as possible to the two demons that had converged on him. Sasha didn’t have time to watch the show, however. Trouble was headed her way. Three more demons attacked, and outnumbered, she needed every ounce of focus to keep from getting burned or sliced open with one of their wide-blades.
A battle dance ensued. Sasha was more agile, quick, and graceful, able to deflect the demons’ blades as well as avoid their hellfire. She rolled away from the attack and scooped up one of the dead demon’s machetes. A weapon in each hand would be much more effective even if the machetes were awkward and cumbersome. It was tough to fight with any finesse, but did it matter? Survival was more important than providing a good show.
“Lucas! To your left!”
The fireball came out of nowhere. Lucas dove to his right, narrowly missing the hellfire, but it put him in the path of an oncoming demon. The male’s blade sliced along Luca’s torso and Sasha cringed as crimson bloomed from the wound to stain his shirt. The wound appeared superficial. He’d heal, but a few more cuts like that and the blood loss would take its toll. Sasha needed to cut down as many demons as possible so the odds were more even. They wouldn’t last for long, outnumbered by at least five to one.
Pain exploded down Sasha’s left side as the sharp edge of a blade sunk between her ribs. She’d been preoccupied and missed the demon who’d come from behind to ambush her. He leaned into the act, his face mere inches from hers as he drove the blade deep. Sulfur burned Sasha’s nostrils as his lips spread in an evil smile that showcased the sharp points of his yellow teeth.
“You’ve fucked with my plans, vampire,” the demon seethed close to her ear. “Now your lover is going to watch you die.”
Sasha brought up her right hand to deliver a downward cut with the machete when the demon twisted the blade in her torso. She cried out as it tore through skin, muscle, and scraped over bone. The machete fell from her hand as blood gushed from the open wound. Damn it! She’d been so careful. So vigilant. That the demon had gotten the drop on her hurt more than the damned hole he’d opened up between her ribs. She doubled over and went to one knee as she dragged in ragged gulps of breath. He’d missed her heart, thank the gods. She’d heal. She just hoped the wounds closed up before he was able to deliver a second blow.
A fist connected with the demon’s face, sending him sprawling a good ten feet away. Sasha brought her gaze up, up, up to find herself staring into the face of the most enraged berserker she’d ever seen. Ewan was magnificent in his anger. Black consumed the whites of his eyes and bled onto his cheeks. His muscles pulled the skin that ran with bulging veins tight over his frame. His breath heaved in his chest as his lip pulled back in a snarl. He was the embodiment of death. Destruction. And the demons would be wise to leave the city and never come back.
He took her breath away.
Sasha hugged her right arm around her waist. The wound had begun to heal and she regained sensation in her arm. She was diminished, but not out of the fight, so she scooped up the discarded machete, prepared to give Ewan whatever backup she could.
The sound of urgent shouts and the clash of blades drew Sasha’s attention. Bodies swarmed through the outcroppings of hellfire toward where she, Ewan, and Lucas fought. Saeed, Diego, Cerys, and countless dhampirs flooded the space to join the fight and put the demons down. Sasha drew in a shuddering breath as emotion swelled in her chest. After everything that had happened, all of the bitter words and anger, they’d come to her aid. Her family hadn’t turned their backs on her. They were here for her. And maybe even for Ewan.
The tables turned in an instant. No longer the outnumbering force, the demons quickly fell. Not even their hellfire could protect them. A renewed burst of energy cycled through Sasha’s veins as she reentered the fight. Her blades sang through the air as she hacked, cut and stabbed. Ewan’s ferocity knew no limits as she ripped demons to pieces with nothing more than his bare hands. Gruesome. Violent. She’d seen him fight this way in the ring countless times. As though he were possessed, unable to control his own actions and running on autopilot.
One by one, the demons fell until not a single one was left alive. The building had emptied of casual spectators and all that remained were four vampires, twenty-five dhampirs, and one very enraged berserker.
Whatever force held Ewan in its grip had yet to release its hold. The demons were dead but the fight hadn’t drained out of him. and as Saeed approached Sasha from her right, Ewan charged at the vampire and took him to the floor. Sasha raced to Ewan’s side desperate to keep him from killing Saeed, who was more than prepared to drive his blade into Ewan’s throat as retaliation. Panic overtook her, made her lightheaded, as Sasha gripped Ewan by the shoulders and shouted, “Ewan, stop! You’re going to kill him!”
Nothing could stop him. Not even her words. He was lost to the battle rage and Sasha feared there was no bringing him back.