‹ Prequel: To Bleed for Him
As She Fades
Shiver
"There may not
Be another way to your heart,
So I guess I'd better find a new way in.
I shiver when I hear your name,
Think about you, but it's not the same.
I won't be satisfied 'til I'm under your skin.
Immobilized by the thought of you,
Paralyzed by the sight of you.
Hypnotized by the words you say.
Not true but I believe 'em anyway.
So come to bed; It's getting late.
There's no more time for us to waste.
Remember how my body tastes.
You feel your heart begin to race."
- Maroon 5
I wonder if they really think I'm in class, Torryn wondered idly as she tore through the woman's cheek with a set of brass knuckles. Blood spattered across the asphalt, and after her head had bounced off of the road with an audible thud, Torryn hit her with the set of knuckledusters on her other hand. More red bloomed upon the vampire's face and dirtied the pavement, pouring from a deep gash on her temple, and finally, her brown-green eyes rolled back into her head. Torryn pulled a knife the length of her forearm from where she'd tucked it in the back of her leather belt, and the palm grip of her knuckles dug into her skin as she tightly clutched the blade's hilt. A single swing tore through all of the woman's neck and spine, and her head rolled off to the side for a moment before it fell to ash with a burst of dust, just as her body did beneath Torryn's spread legs. She slipped the bloodied blade back into her belt.
Part of me hopes not, but another part of me disagrees, she continued her train of thought as she rose to her feet, wiping the dust from her jeans. I mean, it'd be awesome if they never realized what I was out here doing, but it'd also make them really, really stupid. Of course, it's not like I couldn't have been skipping class to face the covens Raphael sent me after, or just getting out a little bit early…
Huh. My nightly disappearances are easier to rationalize than I thought.
She slipped the brass knuckles from her fingers with a little effort and tucked them into her back pockets, paying no mind to the gore that coated them. After all, her jeans were already ruined. What could a little more blood hurt?
Starting down the alley, she studied her stinging fingers, squinting through the darkness in hopes of finding the source. She spotted some faint bruising along the backs of her fingers where the weapons had pressed into her skin, and she heaved an angry sigh. I knew they were too tight. Only my third fight of the night, and they're already leaving marks. The question now was: whose brass knuckles were these? If they were too tight even for her delicate fingers, who the hell had wielded them before her? Antony's mother? The thought was bizarre but oddly sensible. Before she'd lost her mind, she had to have some hobbies, right? And who would woo Caesar but a woman who brutalized people for fun?
And that's what brass knuckles did — they brutalized people. With minimal effort, Torryn had been breaking bones and tearing skin from muscle all night. Not like that's particularly hard to do, though. Not when your opponents are third-rate vampires who don't know the first thing about real combat. The only injuries she sported were a scrape on her elbow from where a man had managed to knock her over and a deep cut along the underside of her arm that she'd made herself with the intent of attracting the bloodsuckers with the scent of her blood. It had worked, but…
She groaned in frustration as she emerged into the quiet street at the end of the alley, too-yellow lamplight spilling over her from the streetlights overhead. "Where are all of Emmeline's little servants?" she wondered aloud as she turned down the sidewalk.
"And why is it that you seek us, little Progeny?" a deep voice drawled from behind her, and she spun to find a bulky man standing at the mouth of the alley she'd just emerged from. He leaned nonchalantly against the brick wall that made up one side of the narrow passageway, and she glared at him, already pulling the knuckledusters from her pockets.
"You guys must be good," she said, mimicking his drawl. "I didn't even realize you were following me."
He smiled in an easy, arrogant way that reminded her of Antony. Hell, he was even almost as handsome as Antony. Almost. A few years older in appearance, lighter and longer hair, similarly ever-smirking eyes, a strong jaw… "When prey offers itself as you have, it's hard not to want to observe before attempting to strike. I'm very glad I waited." He pushed himself away from the wall and took a step toward her, though there was no threat apparent in the movement. "Just why have you been trying to draw the attention of my brethren?"
She let the brass knuckles fall to settle on her fingers, comfortable in spite of the fact that the metal pressed into her slowly forming bruises, but she kept them hidden behind her back. He'd undoubtedly guess that she was up to something back there, but she wouldn't let him know what just yet. "Emmeline sicced her coven on me, and I'm out for a little vengeance." And relief from the sense of guilt, of failure, of weakness, that tugged at her relentlessly for having been unable to save herself, but she never intended to admit that particular bit of motivation to anyone, even if they were about to die at her hand. A wicked grin split her face, and she finally held her knuckles up for him to see. "Care to humor me?"
He smirked and took another step forward. "If you don't mind dying here." He appeared before her in a blur, and instinct drove her backward as his fist hurtled toward her stomach just as quickly. She leaped back again to avoid his second punch, then jumped over a sweeping kick that he likely thought would come as a surprise. She landed easily and lashed out with one hand, and when he dodged, she lashed out with the other. He caught her fist, but the scent of stale blood washed over her as the crack of breaking bone filled the silent night air.
She expected him to release his hold, to cringe in pain, to grow angry, but he only tightened his hold on her hand and grinned. "I must say, I'm quite surprised to find someone so strong wasting her strength on petty vengeance and street brawls." Before she could respond, he flung her to the side, slamming her into the brick wall they fought beside. She bared her teeth in a snarl but ignored the pain, and when he jerked her back with the obvious intent to swing her again, she planted her foot in his stomach hard enough to send him arching through the air.
Adrenaline sharpened her vision enough that she could follow the blur of vampire that rushed toward her, and as his fist flew toward her face, she skipped to the side and tapped into her own superhuman speed, delivering a brass knuckle blow to his side as he slid to a stop where she'd only just been standing. He fell into the wall and bounced off, and she met his return with the edge of her blade. The scent of blood burst forth again, growing so familiar to her nose that she barely noticed it, and his body and severed head fell toward the sidewalk. They poofed into ash halfway there, and she lifted her lip in a snarl as she wiped her bloodied knife on her jeans.
"Arrogant prick."
Fresh heat exploded along her back beneath the cold steel of a blade, and she braced herself against the wall as the blow threw her forward. Gritting her teeth in both anger and pain, she spun to face the laughing culprit — and now that the blood was hers, she could smell it all too well.
A grinning man stood before her, his hair the salt-and-pepper shade of the old but his eyes holding the wanton wickedness of the young. His tongue darted out to taste the blood on the edge of his knife, and he chuckled. "I knew that you would overcome him, but I never could have imagined that you would do it so easily."
"Are you one of Emmeline's?" she asked, glaring and trying to ignore the pain that seared in a curved line from her right shoulder to her left hip. For the most part, it was working.
"I am," he answered proudly, "and you've killed one of our own." He lunged, moving so quickly that she couldn't track him even with adrenaline on her side — or perhaps that was just an effect of the agony across her spine. Pain flooded her anew as a thick hand to the chest rammed her torn back into the jagged brick of the wall behind her, but even as darkness threatened at the edge of her vision, she wouldn't cry out.
Instinct guided her beneath the knife aimed at her throat, and she swiped at his legs with her own blade. He leaped back, however, and the tip of the knife left only a shallow cut along one of his shins. He kicked at her, his foot careening toward her face, and she threw herself to the side. The brick cracked beneath the blow, and she lurched to her feet, already lashing out with her knife-less hand. He tried to dance away, but she moved swiftly now, the pain in her back no longer at the forefront of her mind, and she managed to catch him in the ribs with her brass knuckles.
The crack of bone resounded through the silent street, and the vampire staggered back. His smile grew even as blood seeped between his teeth. "If I didn't smell any better, I'd say you were more than half Progeny." She realized with a start that this man and the one before him hadn't even attempted to use pheromones to sway her. Do they already know who I am? Have they been warned?
But before she could ask, he dived toward her once more, and she began to bob and weave between rapid blows in a manic dance. She inched her way to the side, then tried to move to his back with a surge of speed, but he followed her without missing a beat. The blows never stopped raining upon her, and she never stopped dodging.
"Oh, come on," she growled, realizing that either she'd gotten incredibly fast or he was taunting her. "This is getting tedious." She swung her knife, and the scent of blood assaulted her more violently than it had at any point during the night.
The man fell back, staring wide-eyed down at the four bleeding nubs where fingers had once been, though his eyes soon flicked to her, filled with awe. "A bold move," he murmured, then he backhanded her hard enough to send her to the ground. She tried to push herself to her knees, but his foot met her back with enough force to throw her several feet forward along the sidewalk. He followed her and stomped on her, hard, forcing her front into the cement.
She gritted her teeth in a mixture of pain and aggravation that she was growing less and less fond of by the minute, and on impulse, she shifted her hold on her knife and swung it through the air at her back where the man's foot still rested heavily upon her. The warmth of blood splattered across her, and the man cried out as he toppled and fell to kneel beside her, now nursing a nub where his lower leg had once been.
She pushed herself to her knees quickly, expecting a counterattack at any moment, and though the man regarded her in silent awe from his crouch, she didn't hesitate to swing her blade just one more time. He made no move to stop her, and as his head fell away from his body, his wonderstruck expression was the last thing she saw before his flesh fell to dust.
For a moment, she sat on the sidewalk, panting and staring at the pile of ash that darkened the cement before her. Well, I think that's enough for one night. She drew herself up, barely suppressing a pained groan, and started down the street toward the nearest gas station, where she knew her car still waited for her.
Clean up in the gas station bathroom, change in the car, then… She wrinkled her nose as she realized that she had to show up for a battle at the Arena, just to keep up appearances.
"Well, at least I won't have to use the money to pay Raphael for healing." Of course the night I have a gaping wound in my back is the night I'm playing vampire slayer so secretly that even my informant and faithful healer doesn't know.
She sighed. I really need a new hobby.
-?-
Torryn dropped her empty duffel bag on the usual couch in her little hideaway at the Arena. She longed to shove the bag aside and flop onto that couch herself, to sprawl on her front and wail about the sharp, stinging reminders of pain in her back, but she had work to do.
She snorted in bitter laughter. I never thought I'd be referring to cage matches against the monster of the night as "work."
The sound of a door creaking open filled the empty room, and she was surprised to find Skylar slipping out of the bathroom, running a hand through his damp hair. He went wide-eyed when he saw her, but she only smiled. "Madison and Lindsey already know what you are and what you're out doing all night. Is it really necessary to keep getting cleaned up before going home?"
He grinned and came to stand before her. His face was clean, his hands and hair spotless, but the gray-blue of his shirt was stained with red in some places and torn in others. "I usually get a lot more cleaned up than this if I'm trying to hide my unsavory activities from someone. I only rinsed off so I wouldn't feel so gross while I watched your fight."
"How'd you know I'd come to fight?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
"You always do." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but she could see the mischievous glint in his eye. "You never miss a night unless you're out getting yourself into deeper shit, and I figured I would've been called by now if that was the case. So, any idea who you're up against tonight?"
She looked off to the side, searching desperately for something to focus on that wasn't him. "I'm not even sure if I want to get in the ring right now, so I haven't seen what's on the roster for tonight. I'm still a bit worn out from last night," she lied.
A deep, dark chuckle rolled through his chest, and when she returned her gaze to his face, she was met with a devilish smirk. "How about a rematch? I could go for a tougher fight."
Heat raced through her, molten lava in her core, as she remembered the last time they'd faced each other. He'd pinned her, pressed against her, whispering to her in a voice that promised so much more…
She shuddered. "Are you sure that's a good idea? If I'm remembering correctly, I think I kicked your ass last time."
He cocked an eyebrow, though his smirk never faltered. "I'd say that's a good enough reason for a rematch, wouldn't you?"
Well, that's not the reason I had in mind, but… She smiled, lifting her chin in challenge. "All right. Bring it on."
She threw the remainder of her pockets' contents into her empty bag and followed him down the stairs and through the crowd. Currently, no one stood on the brown- and red-stained gym mats that covered the ring's floor, but after a mutter from Skylar to the werewolf who stood beside the gate, they crossed the threshold to change that.
The ring master hadn't yet said a word when the crowd began its raucous cheering, some chanting Torryn's name, some chanting Skylar's, but all of them screeching until Torryn was sure they would lose their voices. Skylar grinned from the opposite side of the ring, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling in return, adrenaline already singing through her veins.
"They remember us," he called to her over the screams.
"No," she said. "They just remember our fight."
The inviting edge to his smirk sent a shiver down her spine as he said, "Good."
He rushed toward her, running as quickly as a mere human could move, and she could already feel the energy — his energy — swirling in the air around her like a dense but invisible fog. She dipped beneath an oncoming punch, but as she drew her fist back to return the blow, she suddenly found herself unable to move. Invisible hands wrapped around her in a suffocating shell, holding her in her crouched position as he rammed his knee into her jaw. Only then did he release her, and she fell flat on her ass with pain pulsing through her face.
She rubbed her chin and leaped to her feet, glaring at him as he skipped a few light, cheery steps backward. "Do you ever fight fair?" she drawled, and he only grinned before lunging at her again.
This time, when he began to wrap her in clear cotton, attempting to pin her arms to her sides as he raised his fist, she tore through the energy that surrounded her with a burst of strength that she shouldn't have needed to get through the magical equivalent of freaking Saran wrap. At the last possible second, she caught his clenched fist and swung him around to slam face-first into the chain-link wall, mimicking the technique of the vampire she'd killed only minutes ago. He put his hands against the aluminum, began to push himself away from it, but she slammed him forward with a thrust of her body against his.
She could feel the power continuing to fill the air around her, but she didn't hesitate to press herself even harder against him, lacing her fingers through the chain-link over top of his to trap the warmth of his skin beneath her. "Feel familiar?" she murmured, and she felt a surge of triumph — and a surge of something else that settled to tingle in the pit of her stomach — as a shudder rippled through his body.
"Weren't you on the receiving end last time?" he asked, breathless. He could've thrown her back, could've switched spots with her, could've done just about anything to escape her hold with the massive amounts of raw energy he exuded, but instead, only a sensation like fingers running featherlight along the side of her throat reminded her of his control. It was her turn to shiver now, and he let loose a throaty laugh. "Watch yourself."
She sailed straight across the ring at lightning speed, slamming into the wall with the wild jingling of chain-link. Pain shot through her anew, and she hoped like hell that she hadn't just torn the wound back open, but she forced her attention to Skylar as he charged toward her. He raised his fist, and with a feeling like forcing her way through deep water, she managed to claw her way through the energy that surrounded her and roll to the side. The chain-link rattled loudly as his fist crashed into it, and she pried herself away from it with a hard shove.
She staggered to the center of the ring and spun to face him, already lashing out with a kick at his back. Her foot found its mark, and he fell against the wall. Before he'd even finished bouncing off of the aluminum, what felt like a translucent basketball slammed into her stomach with enough force to knock the air from her lungs and send her sprawling on the floor. As her back met the dirty mat, pain exploded once more, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. At the sound of Skylar's footsteps thundering toward her, however, she had no choice but to shove the agony aside and spring to her feet as if the fall hadn't hurt at all.
For the moment, he seemed to be fighting fair. He threw punch after punch her way, aiming for her stomach, her face, even her throat, but she blocked and dodged as skillfully as ever. Taking advantage of her quick reflexes, she caught his wrist after one decidedly close punch, then she caught the other as he tried to follow up. Tightening her hold to the point that she was sure it hurt him, she advanced forward to drive him several steps back, stopping only when his back set the chain-link jangling once more. He let her pin his hands above his head, the wicked smirk on his pale pink lips begging her to devour him right then and there.
"Are you going to give up yet?" she asked, keeping a careful few inches of space between their bodies. "You're not nearly as tough of an opponent when you fight fair."
"It's not fighting fair if you're not using everything you've got," he said, and she wondered how just those simple, innocent words could set her body throbbing. She barely had time to think on it, though, as he finally used his abilities for something predictable. She was torn from him and thrust back against the chain-link wall beside him, those invisible hands gripping her wrists and bringing them high above her head as he stood before her.
He looked her over, his eyes drifting slowly, so slowly, from her feet to her hips to her chest to her face. The cheers of the audience redoubled even though there was no violence, and as he reached out to slide a hand along her hip and beneath her shirt, chants of his name broke out among the crowd. His touch was as gentle as the feeling of invisible fingers sliding along her throat, the back of her neck, her collarbone, down along her side and around her back. The sensation of a hundred hands fell on her now, caressing every bit of skin an immaterial entity could possibly reach — everything.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, and another low, taunting laugh rumbled through him. "Now it's a fair fight." He guided his other hand beneath her shirt, continued to conduct the symphony of disembodied hands along every inch of her, flooded her body with a violent heat he had no control over. He eased closer, closing the space between them, and her chest brushed his as it lifted in a gasp for breath. "How about we call it a draw?" he whispered in her ear, and she went weak in the knees.
She nodded vigorously, bumping her chin against his too-close shoulder, but he didn't relent just yet. An invisible hand slid up her thigh, between denim and smooth flesh, and dived into her without preamble. A squeak of shock, of confusion, of involuntary pleasure left her, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck to muffle a moan that she couldn't stop. The crowd's screams tripled in volume and aggression around her, but all she heard was Skylar's low laugh, all she felt was the vibration of that laugh in her chest, pressed against his.
She knew she should've been angry at him for humiliating her like this in front of such a massive gathering of onlookers, but she couldn't even bring herself to feel appropriately embarrassed. She felt…exhilarated.
"Have you always been able to do this?" she panted. She hadn't realized how out of breath she was.
"You're the one who chose to share the vampire's bed and not mine," he teased in answer. He drew the warmth of the energy from within her slowly, tauntingly, and she bit her lip against the groan welling in her throat.
The invisible weight of the power that hung all around her lifted suddenly, vanished with the dozens of small caresses that soothed every part of her body — leaving her with only the hot tingle of what still pooled between her thighs. Heat eased into her, too slowly, too softly, too cruelly, and she sagged against Skylar, who drew her to him with the hold he still had of her hips.
"It's a draw. We both forfeit," he called over the nonstop noise of their audience, and the lilt of smug laughter that colored his voice would've made her punch him if she hadn't been so utterly under his control — and that's just what she was. There was no other word for the feeling. Under his control.
This was the sensation she'd always feared, always loathed. This was the sensation that had always been forced upon her by bloodsuckers who knew nothing but control and desire and brute force. But now, as Skylar maneuvered her out of the ring among the disappointed groans and amused laughter of the crowd, drawing her along with the hold he had of her arm and the teasing warmth that still held her insides, she felt only one emotion, one she wouldn't object to, one she hadn't felt so voluntarily since she'd spent a year with this very boy — raw, unadulterated, carnal desire.
"Home?" she asked as they broke free of the crowd.
He smirked lasciviously down at her. "I have to wait that long?"
Be another way to your heart,
So I guess I'd better find a new way in.
I shiver when I hear your name,
Think about you, but it's not the same.
I won't be satisfied 'til I'm under your skin.
Immobilized by the thought of you,
Paralyzed by the sight of you.
Hypnotized by the words you say.
Not true but I believe 'em anyway.
So come to bed; It's getting late.
There's no more time for us to waste.
Remember how my body tastes.
You feel your heart begin to race."
- Maroon 5
I wonder if they really think I'm in class, Torryn wondered idly as she tore through the woman's cheek with a set of brass knuckles. Blood spattered across the asphalt, and after her head had bounced off of the road with an audible thud, Torryn hit her with the set of knuckledusters on her other hand. More red bloomed upon the vampire's face and dirtied the pavement, pouring from a deep gash on her temple, and finally, her brown-green eyes rolled back into her head. Torryn pulled a knife the length of her forearm from where she'd tucked it in the back of her leather belt, and the palm grip of her knuckles dug into her skin as she tightly clutched the blade's hilt. A single swing tore through all of the woman's neck and spine, and her head rolled off to the side for a moment before it fell to ash with a burst of dust, just as her body did beneath Torryn's spread legs. She slipped the bloodied blade back into her belt.
Part of me hopes not, but another part of me disagrees, she continued her train of thought as she rose to her feet, wiping the dust from her jeans. I mean, it'd be awesome if they never realized what I was out here doing, but it'd also make them really, really stupid. Of course, it's not like I couldn't have been skipping class to face the covens Raphael sent me after, or just getting out a little bit early…
Huh. My nightly disappearances are easier to rationalize than I thought.
She slipped the brass knuckles from her fingers with a little effort and tucked them into her back pockets, paying no mind to the gore that coated them. After all, her jeans were already ruined. What could a little more blood hurt?
Starting down the alley, she studied her stinging fingers, squinting through the darkness in hopes of finding the source. She spotted some faint bruising along the backs of her fingers where the weapons had pressed into her skin, and she heaved an angry sigh. I knew they were too tight. Only my third fight of the night, and they're already leaving marks. The question now was: whose brass knuckles were these? If they were too tight even for her delicate fingers, who the hell had wielded them before her? Antony's mother? The thought was bizarre but oddly sensible. Before she'd lost her mind, she had to have some hobbies, right? And who would woo Caesar but a woman who brutalized people for fun?
And that's what brass knuckles did — they brutalized people. With minimal effort, Torryn had been breaking bones and tearing skin from muscle all night. Not like that's particularly hard to do, though. Not when your opponents are third-rate vampires who don't know the first thing about real combat. The only injuries she sported were a scrape on her elbow from where a man had managed to knock her over and a deep cut along the underside of her arm that she'd made herself with the intent of attracting the bloodsuckers with the scent of her blood. It had worked, but…
She groaned in frustration as she emerged into the quiet street at the end of the alley, too-yellow lamplight spilling over her from the streetlights overhead. "Where are all of Emmeline's little servants?" she wondered aloud as she turned down the sidewalk.
"And why is it that you seek us, little Progeny?" a deep voice drawled from behind her, and she spun to find a bulky man standing at the mouth of the alley she'd just emerged from. He leaned nonchalantly against the brick wall that made up one side of the narrow passageway, and she glared at him, already pulling the knuckledusters from her pockets.
"You guys must be good," she said, mimicking his drawl. "I didn't even realize you were following me."
He smiled in an easy, arrogant way that reminded her of Antony. Hell, he was even almost as handsome as Antony. Almost. A few years older in appearance, lighter and longer hair, similarly ever-smirking eyes, a strong jaw… "When prey offers itself as you have, it's hard not to want to observe before attempting to strike. I'm very glad I waited." He pushed himself away from the wall and took a step toward her, though there was no threat apparent in the movement. "Just why have you been trying to draw the attention of my brethren?"
She let the brass knuckles fall to settle on her fingers, comfortable in spite of the fact that the metal pressed into her slowly forming bruises, but she kept them hidden behind her back. He'd undoubtedly guess that she was up to something back there, but she wouldn't let him know what just yet. "Emmeline sicced her coven on me, and I'm out for a little vengeance." And relief from the sense of guilt, of failure, of weakness, that tugged at her relentlessly for having been unable to save herself, but she never intended to admit that particular bit of motivation to anyone, even if they were about to die at her hand. A wicked grin split her face, and she finally held her knuckles up for him to see. "Care to humor me?"
He smirked and took another step forward. "If you don't mind dying here." He appeared before her in a blur, and instinct drove her backward as his fist hurtled toward her stomach just as quickly. She leaped back again to avoid his second punch, then jumped over a sweeping kick that he likely thought would come as a surprise. She landed easily and lashed out with one hand, and when he dodged, she lashed out with the other. He caught her fist, but the scent of stale blood washed over her as the crack of breaking bone filled the silent night air.
She expected him to release his hold, to cringe in pain, to grow angry, but he only tightened his hold on her hand and grinned. "I must say, I'm quite surprised to find someone so strong wasting her strength on petty vengeance and street brawls." Before she could respond, he flung her to the side, slamming her into the brick wall they fought beside. She bared her teeth in a snarl but ignored the pain, and when he jerked her back with the obvious intent to swing her again, she planted her foot in his stomach hard enough to send him arching through the air.
Adrenaline sharpened her vision enough that she could follow the blur of vampire that rushed toward her, and as his fist flew toward her face, she skipped to the side and tapped into her own superhuman speed, delivering a brass knuckle blow to his side as he slid to a stop where she'd only just been standing. He fell into the wall and bounced off, and she met his return with the edge of her blade. The scent of blood burst forth again, growing so familiar to her nose that she barely noticed it, and his body and severed head fell toward the sidewalk. They poofed into ash halfway there, and she lifted her lip in a snarl as she wiped her bloodied knife on her jeans.
"Arrogant prick."
Fresh heat exploded along her back beneath the cold steel of a blade, and she braced herself against the wall as the blow threw her forward. Gritting her teeth in both anger and pain, she spun to face the laughing culprit — and now that the blood was hers, she could smell it all too well.
A grinning man stood before her, his hair the salt-and-pepper shade of the old but his eyes holding the wanton wickedness of the young. His tongue darted out to taste the blood on the edge of his knife, and he chuckled. "I knew that you would overcome him, but I never could have imagined that you would do it so easily."
"Are you one of Emmeline's?" she asked, glaring and trying to ignore the pain that seared in a curved line from her right shoulder to her left hip. For the most part, it was working.
"I am," he answered proudly, "and you've killed one of our own." He lunged, moving so quickly that she couldn't track him even with adrenaline on her side — or perhaps that was just an effect of the agony across her spine. Pain flooded her anew as a thick hand to the chest rammed her torn back into the jagged brick of the wall behind her, but even as darkness threatened at the edge of her vision, she wouldn't cry out.
Instinct guided her beneath the knife aimed at her throat, and she swiped at his legs with her own blade. He leaped back, however, and the tip of the knife left only a shallow cut along one of his shins. He kicked at her, his foot careening toward her face, and she threw herself to the side. The brick cracked beneath the blow, and she lurched to her feet, already lashing out with her knife-less hand. He tried to dance away, but she moved swiftly now, the pain in her back no longer at the forefront of her mind, and she managed to catch him in the ribs with her brass knuckles.
The crack of bone resounded through the silent street, and the vampire staggered back. His smile grew even as blood seeped between his teeth. "If I didn't smell any better, I'd say you were more than half Progeny." She realized with a start that this man and the one before him hadn't even attempted to use pheromones to sway her. Do they already know who I am? Have they been warned?
But before she could ask, he dived toward her once more, and she began to bob and weave between rapid blows in a manic dance. She inched her way to the side, then tried to move to his back with a surge of speed, but he followed her without missing a beat. The blows never stopped raining upon her, and she never stopped dodging.
"Oh, come on," she growled, realizing that either she'd gotten incredibly fast or he was taunting her. "This is getting tedious." She swung her knife, and the scent of blood assaulted her more violently than it had at any point during the night.
The man fell back, staring wide-eyed down at the four bleeding nubs where fingers had once been, though his eyes soon flicked to her, filled with awe. "A bold move," he murmured, then he backhanded her hard enough to send her to the ground. She tried to push herself to her knees, but his foot met her back with enough force to throw her several feet forward along the sidewalk. He followed her and stomped on her, hard, forcing her front into the cement.
She gritted her teeth in a mixture of pain and aggravation that she was growing less and less fond of by the minute, and on impulse, she shifted her hold on her knife and swung it through the air at her back where the man's foot still rested heavily upon her. The warmth of blood splattered across her, and the man cried out as he toppled and fell to kneel beside her, now nursing a nub where his lower leg had once been.
She pushed herself to her knees quickly, expecting a counterattack at any moment, and though the man regarded her in silent awe from his crouch, she didn't hesitate to swing her blade just one more time. He made no move to stop her, and as his head fell away from his body, his wonderstruck expression was the last thing she saw before his flesh fell to dust.
For a moment, she sat on the sidewalk, panting and staring at the pile of ash that darkened the cement before her. Well, I think that's enough for one night. She drew herself up, barely suppressing a pained groan, and started down the street toward the nearest gas station, where she knew her car still waited for her.
Clean up in the gas station bathroom, change in the car, then… She wrinkled her nose as she realized that she had to show up for a battle at the Arena, just to keep up appearances.
"Well, at least I won't have to use the money to pay Raphael for healing." Of course the night I have a gaping wound in my back is the night I'm playing vampire slayer so secretly that even my informant and faithful healer doesn't know.
She sighed. I really need a new hobby.
-?-
Torryn dropped her empty duffel bag on the usual couch in her little hideaway at the Arena. She longed to shove the bag aside and flop onto that couch herself, to sprawl on her front and wail about the sharp, stinging reminders of pain in her back, but she had work to do.
She snorted in bitter laughter. I never thought I'd be referring to cage matches against the monster of the night as "work."
The sound of a door creaking open filled the empty room, and she was surprised to find Skylar slipping out of the bathroom, running a hand through his damp hair. He went wide-eyed when he saw her, but she only smiled. "Madison and Lindsey already know what you are and what you're out doing all night. Is it really necessary to keep getting cleaned up before going home?"
He grinned and came to stand before her. His face was clean, his hands and hair spotless, but the gray-blue of his shirt was stained with red in some places and torn in others. "I usually get a lot more cleaned up than this if I'm trying to hide my unsavory activities from someone. I only rinsed off so I wouldn't feel so gross while I watched your fight."
"How'd you know I'd come to fight?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.
"You always do." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but she could see the mischievous glint in his eye. "You never miss a night unless you're out getting yourself into deeper shit, and I figured I would've been called by now if that was the case. So, any idea who you're up against tonight?"
She looked off to the side, searching desperately for something to focus on that wasn't him. "I'm not even sure if I want to get in the ring right now, so I haven't seen what's on the roster for tonight. I'm still a bit worn out from last night," she lied.
A deep, dark chuckle rolled through his chest, and when she returned her gaze to his face, she was met with a devilish smirk. "How about a rematch? I could go for a tougher fight."
Heat raced through her, molten lava in her core, as she remembered the last time they'd faced each other. He'd pinned her, pressed against her, whispering to her in a voice that promised so much more…
She shuddered. "Are you sure that's a good idea? If I'm remembering correctly, I think I kicked your ass last time."
He cocked an eyebrow, though his smirk never faltered. "I'd say that's a good enough reason for a rematch, wouldn't you?"
Well, that's not the reason I had in mind, but… She smiled, lifting her chin in challenge. "All right. Bring it on."
She threw the remainder of her pockets' contents into her empty bag and followed him down the stairs and through the crowd. Currently, no one stood on the brown- and red-stained gym mats that covered the ring's floor, but after a mutter from Skylar to the werewolf who stood beside the gate, they crossed the threshold to change that.
The ring master hadn't yet said a word when the crowd began its raucous cheering, some chanting Torryn's name, some chanting Skylar's, but all of them screeching until Torryn was sure they would lose their voices. Skylar grinned from the opposite side of the ring, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling in return, adrenaline already singing through her veins.
"They remember us," he called to her over the screams.
"No," she said. "They just remember our fight."
The inviting edge to his smirk sent a shiver down her spine as he said, "Good."
He rushed toward her, running as quickly as a mere human could move, and she could already feel the energy — his energy — swirling in the air around her like a dense but invisible fog. She dipped beneath an oncoming punch, but as she drew her fist back to return the blow, she suddenly found herself unable to move. Invisible hands wrapped around her in a suffocating shell, holding her in her crouched position as he rammed his knee into her jaw. Only then did he release her, and she fell flat on her ass with pain pulsing through her face.
She rubbed her chin and leaped to her feet, glaring at him as he skipped a few light, cheery steps backward. "Do you ever fight fair?" she drawled, and he only grinned before lunging at her again.
This time, when he began to wrap her in clear cotton, attempting to pin her arms to her sides as he raised his fist, she tore through the energy that surrounded her with a burst of strength that she shouldn't have needed to get through the magical equivalent of freaking Saran wrap. At the last possible second, she caught his clenched fist and swung him around to slam face-first into the chain-link wall, mimicking the technique of the vampire she'd killed only minutes ago. He put his hands against the aluminum, began to push himself away from it, but she slammed him forward with a thrust of her body against his.
She could feel the power continuing to fill the air around her, but she didn't hesitate to press herself even harder against him, lacing her fingers through the chain-link over top of his to trap the warmth of his skin beneath her. "Feel familiar?" she murmured, and she felt a surge of triumph — and a surge of something else that settled to tingle in the pit of her stomach — as a shudder rippled through his body.
"Weren't you on the receiving end last time?" he asked, breathless. He could've thrown her back, could've switched spots with her, could've done just about anything to escape her hold with the massive amounts of raw energy he exuded, but instead, only a sensation like fingers running featherlight along the side of her throat reminded her of his control. It was her turn to shiver now, and he let loose a throaty laugh. "Watch yourself."
She sailed straight across the ring at lightning speed, slamming into the wall with the wild jingling of chain-link. Pain shot through her anew, and she hoped like hell that she hadn't just torn the wound back open, but she forced her attention to Skylar as he charged toward her. He raised his fist, and with a feeling like forcing her way through deep water, she managed to claw her way through the energy that surrounded her and roll to the side. The chain-link rattled loudly as his fist crashed into it, and she pried herself away from it with a hard shove.
She staggered to the center of the ring and spun to face him, already lashing out with a kick at his back. Her foot found its mark, and he fell against the wall. Before he'd even finished bouncing off of the aluminum, what felt like a translucent basketball slammed into her stomach with enough force to knock the air from her lungs and send her sprawling on the floor. As her back met the dirty mat, pain exploded once more, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. At the sound of Skylar's footsteps thundering toward her, however, she had no choice but to shove the agony aside and spring to her feet as if the fall hadn't hurt at all.
For the moment, he seemed to be fighting fair. He threw punch after punch her way, aiming for her stomach, her face, even her throat, but she blocked and dodged as skillfully as ever. Taking advantage of her quick reflexes, she caught his wrist after one decidedly close punch, then she caught the other as he tried to follow up. Tightening her hold to the point that she was sure it hurt him, she advanced forward to drive him several steps back, stopping only when his back set the chain-link jangling once more. He let her pin his hands above his head, the wicked smirk on his pale pink lips begging her to devour him right then and there.
"Are you going to give up yet?" she asked, keeping a careful few inches of space between their bodies. "You're not nearly as tough of an opponent when you fight fair."
"It's not fighting fair if you're not using everything you've got," he said, and she wondered how just those simple, innocent words could set her body throbbing. She barely had time to think on it, though, as he finally used his abilities for something predictable. She was torn from him and thrust back against the chain-link wall beside him, those invisible hands gripping her wrists and bringing them high above her head as he stood before her.
He looked her over, his eyes drifting slowly, so slowly, from her feet to her hips to her chest to her face. The cheers of the audience redoubled even though there was no violence, and as he reached out to slide a hand along her hip and beneath her shirt, chants of his name broke out among the crowd. His touch was as gentle as the feeling of invisible fingers sliding along her throat, the back of her neck, her collarbone, down along her side and around her back. The sensation of a hundred hands fell on her now, caressing every bit of skin an immaterial entity could possibly reach — everything.
She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, and another low, taunting laugh rumbled through him. "Now it's a fair fight." He guided his other hand beneath her shirt, continued to conduct the symphony of disembodied hands along every inch of her, flooded her body with a violent heat he had no control over. He eased closer, closing the space between them, and her chest brushed his as it lifted in a gasp for breath. "How about we call it a draw?" he whispered in her ear, and she went weak in the knees.
She nodded vigorously, bumping her chin against his too-close shoulder, but he didn't relent just yet. An invisible hand slid up her thigh, between denim and smooth flesh, and dived into her without preamble. A squeak of shock, of confusion, of involuntary pleasure left her, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck to muffle a moan that she couldn't stop. The crowd's screams tripled in volume and aggression around her, but all she heard was Skylar's low laugh, all she felt was the vibration of that laugh in her chest, pressed against his.
She knew she should've been angry at him for humiliating her like this in front of such a massive gathering of onlookers, but she couldn't even bring herself to feel appropriately embarrassed. She felt…exhilarated.
"Have you always been able to do this?" she panted. She hadn't realized how out of breath she was.
"You're the one who chose to share the vampire's bed and not mine," he teased in answer. He drew the warmth of the energy from within her slowly, tauntingly, and she bit her lip against the groan welling in her throat.
The invisible weight of the power that hung all around her lifted suddenly, vanished with the dozens of small caresses that soothed every part of her body — leaving her with only the hot tingle of what still pooled between her thighs. Heat eased into her, too slowly, too softly, too cruelly, and she sagged against Skylar, who drew her to him with the hold he still had of her hips.
"It's a draw. We both forfeit," he called over the nonstop noise of their audience, and the lilt of smug laughter that colored his voice would've made her punch him if she hadn't been so utterly under his control — and that's just what she was. There was no other word for the feeling. Under his control.
This was the sensation she'd always feared, always loathed. This was the sensation that had always been forced upon her by bloodsuckers who knew nothing but control and desire and brute force. But now, as Skylar maneuvered her out of the ring among the disappointed groans and amused laughter of the crowd, drawing her along with the hold he had of her arm and the teasing warmth that still held her insides, she felt only one emotion, one she wouldn't object to, one she hadn't felt so voluntarily since she'd spent a year with this very boy — raw, unadulterated, carnal desire.
"Home?" she asked as they broke free of the crowd.
He smirked lasciviously down at her. "I have to wait that long?"