It wasn’t a surrender. It was a dare. A year ago I might’ve mistaken it for something else or convinced myself I was reading too much into it, but a year of being in love and being wanted gave me enough of a basis to identify that look. Hugh was turned on.
It wasn’t an act. This was real.
Damn it all to hell.
Do not react.
I freed the sword, wiped it on my shirt, and offered it to him hilt first. “Excellent sword. Thank you for the workout.”
“No, thank you.” Hugh pushed from the wall. Blood soaked his T-shirt. His face swelled on the left side. He must’ve turned when I rammed his face into the wall. Probably tried to save the nose. A broken nose made your eyes tear. I would’ve finished him much faster.
All the aches and pains screamed at me at once. My stomach hurt. My left side was likely cut. My right side felt slightly off, with a familiar throbbing pain. Cracked rib. Hopefully not broken. My arms ached in ten different places. My T-shirt hadn’t turned completely red, like his, but bright stains blossomed on it here and there.
I turned, stretching slightly. Ow. I felt like someone had beaten me with a bag of razor-studded potatoes.
A small noise made me pivot. Curran marched toward us, his face dark, his eyes almost completely gold. He must’ve jumped out the window. Imagine that. Whatever would Lorelei do all by her lonesome?
“You owe me a rematch,” Hugh said.
“Maybe. One day.” When you aren’t surrounded by two dozen bodyguards.
“That’s a promise.”
Curran moved toward me. “Are you okay, baby?”
“He calls you baby.” Hugh laughed. “I love it.”
“Shut up,” Curran said.
I raised my voice, so the audience could hear. “About my prize?”
Hugh smiled. “Of course,” he said, his voice carrying. “You are welcome to anything in the courtyard.”
I turned and pointed at Christopher in the cage. “I want him.”
Hugh blinked and locked his jaw.
Yes, yes, you’ve been had. Put your big-boy pants on and pay up.
Hugh’s face looked grim. He really didn’t want to give up his torture toy.
“Is there a problem?” Curran asked.
“No problem.” Hugh raised his voice and barked an order in another language.
Hibla strode out, pulling a large keychain from her pocket. Two djigits followed. We watched as they unlocked the doors.
Hugh pulled off his shirt, displaying an award-winning torso. He was built like an anatomy model—every muscle honed to precision and just the right size: strong, powerful, but flexible. And bloody. I must’ve cut him over twenty times. Most of the wounds amounted to little more than nicks and shallow gashes. He was really good. Had I been less angry, he might’ve won. That thought worried me.
Hugh turned his left arm, showing off three precision cuts across the bulging triceps. Had I managed to cut deeper, I would’ve disabled the arm with each one. “Look at this.” Hugh indicated the cuts to Curran. “Like a fucking artist.”
I started toward the cage.
“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” Curran said quietly behind my back.
“She doesn’t need your help,” Hugh said. “But any time you want to play, let me know.”
I kept walking. My hip hurt, too. Red seeped through my jeans. Another cut. Deeper than others. Hell would freeze over before I limped.
The djigits swung the door open and backed away from me, hands in the air. Christopher stared at me with owl eyes.
“Come on,” I told him.
He blinked. “My lady.”
“You’re free. Come with me. We have food and water.” I reached for him.
He grabbed my arm with both hands and kissed it. “My mistress. My beautiful mistress. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
He had a death grip on my wrist.
“My kind mistress, my sweet mistress, thank you, thank you . . .”
“Barabas!” I called. I was ninety percent sure I’d heard him during the fight.
A movement and he appeared by my side as if by magic. “Alpha.”
“Deadly mistress,” Christopher whispered. His fingers brushed my blood. He stared at me, his face all shining eyes. “My lady! Will serve forever . . .”
“Shhh.” I put my left index finger to my lips. “Hush now.”
Barabas reached over me and gently disengaged Christopher’s fingers. “That fight was amazing,” he said quietly.
Good to know I still gave good show, because I sure as hell wasn’t good for much else. “Please make sure he gets a shower, a fresh change of clothes, and some food and water. Don’t give him too much, because he’ll gorge himself. He isn’t all there.”