King's Proposal: Paranormal Shape Shifter Alpha Male Cage Fighter Werelion romance (Shifter Fight League Book 3) (5 page)

* * *

S
he 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!”

Z
ara’s eyes
widened as a familiar figure slid under the ropes with no fanfare or other buildup. Unlike his opponent, Johnno wore his normal training gear — black loose pants and a close vest with his hands in black wraps. The color scheme had earned him the nickname of the “Grim Reaper” in the Moon’s gym.

Relief flooded her for a moment at the sight of a familiar face, especially when he turned around and winked at her. The small curve of his lips was mysterious and she realized she didn’t actually know what kind of paranormal he was. A shifter for sure, he’d have to be to have registered with the SFL, but since the definition was wide ranging, he could be anything from a wereferret all the way through to non-were shifters like a gargoyle or a Valkyrie.

Not that she seriously thought he was either of those. Gargoyles were easy to spot with their slower speech and tendency to be slumberous during the day, and Valkyries were almost as rare as unicorns and usually female. Although, she had heard stories that the city’s Vampire Earl had Valkyrie blood.

She shuddered. One more reason to avoid the repulsive creatures. If one of them were to storm in here to save her, though, she’d willingly offer up a vein. Even being a vampire’s blood slave had to be better than whatever Niko had planned for her. The gleam in his eyes every time he looked her way made her feel sick and want to scrub herself in a month-long bath.

“You’re dead meat, kid.” Niko snarled as he climbed into the ring with Johnno. “I used to go easy on you at the Moon, but that’s done now.”

The smaller man just shrugged, rolling his shoulders as he danced on the spot — limbering up the same way he always had. Her heart ached as the relief she’d felt faded. He’d never been able to beat Niko in a fight — not properly — so how was he going to beat him now when it mattered the most? Panic and sadness fought in her heart. Niko was going to kill him because of her.

The bell rang to signal the start of the fight. She clung to the bars on the door of the cage, one hand on her throat as she watched. Johnno came out fighting, hard and brutal. He moved faster than she’d ever seen before, an edge in his movements that was new. As were a few of his moves, ones she recognized from seeing Logan train.

Hope began to filter through again. If he’d been training with Logan, was it possible he could beat Niko? Win the fight? That would mean she was his…but if he was Logan’s man…

Any hope she’d had for that outcome though, soon died a quick death. No matter how fast Johnno was, Niko was faster. Dodging and weaving around the smaller man, Johnno threw jabs that didn’t connect and Niko jeered.

“Come on then, boy,” he taunted, egging Johnno on with crooked fingers.

“That all you got? Thought you’d try harder, given all your locker room talk about fucking the boss’ daughter. She’s right there…” He motioned toward Zara’s cage. “But guess what, punk… she’s all mine.
I’m
gonna be the one taking her home and fucking her raw.”

Not if I have anything to do with it.
She kept her comment to herself and focused on the fight. Johnno was really working for it, a fine sheen of sweat covering his chest and shoulders as he danced around Niko, trying to avoid some of the heavier blows and inflict damage on the big werebear. It didn’t help that he was shorter and of a slighter build than his opponent, but she had to give him points for courage. Every so often, he would glance her way, determination written on his features.

She worried at her lower lip. He was so young and determined, and if he got hurt it would be all her fault.

As she watched, he slid to the side and let loose a barrage of jabs and hooks that rocked Niko back on his feet. Holding her breath, she pressed herself against the bars, hoping beyond hope that it would be enough to end this farce.

Niko shook his head, obviously unsteady, but stayed on his feet, arms up to protect his head from the attack.

“Fuck’s sake,” she muttered to herself. “Just go down already, would you?”

As though he heard her words, he shook his head and straightened up. With a bellow, he went on the attack, hammering at Johnno’s defense with punch after punch until the smaller man was driven back against the ropes. He twisted to the side and slid under Niko’s arm. The werebear tracked him with a roar, which was when she felt it. That little prickle in the air that warned someone was calling power from their beast.

She frowned, confusion rolling through her. Normally, she had to be practically touching someone to sense the call and there was no one anywhere near her. Yet she could feel it. Could feel the buildup of power, like the feeling she got in her sinuses when the air pressure rose just before a storm. Her gaze cut to Johnno. Just because she hadn’t seen him shift before didn’t mean he couldn’t. Eagerly, she scanned his appearance for any clue as to what kind of shifter he was. Hopefully something big and mean enough to completely decimate Niko. Would a weredragon be too much to hope for?

The instant her eyes met his and read the expression there, she knew. He couldn’t shift. Something deep inside her knew that whatever he was, he wasn’t a were. She’d never felt that particular frisson from him and now she knew why. The buildup wasn’t him.

“Watch out!” she yelled the warning just as Niko lashed out, his hand fully shifted to beast. Johnno’s eyes widened and he ducked. The claws slashed through the air where his head had been scant moments before — a blow that would have decapitated him.

Denied his easy victory, Niko roared and laid into Johnno with renewed vigor. The smaller man managed to avoid the first couple of blows, but after that he wasn’t so lucky. A right hook caught him on his shoulder, spinning him around. He’d barely recovered when Niko slammed two heavy jabs right through his guard and into his face.

For a second he stood there like he’d been poleaxed, but then Niko’s claws sliced through the air and across the front of Johnno’s throat. Zara heard her own screams as red rolled down Johnno’s chest like an expensive scarlet cravat.

“No! No
nonono!”
She backed away from the door to the cage, hand covering her mouth as nausea rose, bile threatening to choke her. The scent of blood filled the air, and all she could do was look at the spreading pool under Johnno’s fallen figure. A wave of dizziness assaulted her, and she grabbed at the bars at the side of the cage, sinking to her knees as all hope deserted her.

She wasn’t getting out of this.

Logan wasn’t coming.

* * *

“
T
ime to go
, doll. Finally.”

Zara’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the key turning in the lock of her cage door. The scrape of metal against metal seemed to go on forever, the sound raw against her soul. But it was only seconds before she opened her eyes. The veil of her lashes revealed Niko stood by the official opening the door, the expression on the big werebear’s face filled with triumph and lust. Unbidden, a growl started up in the back of her throat. A small rumble at first, the merest hint of sound where there shouldn’t have been quickly escalated into something deeper as her lips curled back to reveal her teeth. It was a warning for the big man who stepped into the cage with her as soon as the door had opened widely enough for him to slide through.

She scuttled backward as far as the small confines would allow, snarling all the way. Her skin crawled the nearer he got. Throat closing over, she refused to give in to panic. Instead, anger rolled up from the dark recesses within her. He couldn’t touch her. She couldn’t bear even the thought of it. Her hands curled into claws, the need to rip the look off his face invading every cell in her body.

“You’re mine, bitch.”

He grabbed for her and she screamed, transformed in an instant from a cowering, terrified woman into a kicking, screaming hell cat. “Get your fucking hands off me, you asshole.”

The struggle was short but intense. Every time he tried to get a solid hold on her, she twisted and wriggled, kicking and punching whatever part of his body she could reach. They were solid hits, hard enough to hurt her own hands and feet. He hissed, grunting with each impact but didn’t let go. Tears of frustration escaped the corner of her eyes as she turned and tried to slam a knee into his groin. It didn’t work. He turned at the last minute and her knee hit his thigh, skittering off and giving him an opening to get a good grip.

Surging forward, he managed to pin her against the wall, the bars digging into her back hard enough to bruise. His hand closed around her throat in warning, and he snarled in her ear. “Play nice, bitch, or I’ll have to make you. And I got no problem doing that right here, right now. Understand me?”

She stopped struggling. He was too big and strong for her to fight. His bigger body pressed hers against the bars, and the hardness pressing against her upper thigh told her exactly how much he was enjoying herself. Nausea washed over her as he bent his head and kissed the side of her neck.

“You’ll loosen up,” he promised her, grabbing hold of her arms and yanking her out of the cage after him. Trying to keep up with his longer stride was impossible and she stumbled, falling against him. He growled in irritation, tightening his grip on her arm until a cry of pain escaped her lips.

“Keep up then, bitch. You’ll do best to learn to behave…I won’t allow the bullshit Reese did.”

He dragged her around the cage, the crowd roaring as the next fight was announced. Already their attention was on the ring rather than on her and Niko, their interest in the big fighter and his prize already waning apart from a few who watched with sick interest. She glared at them as she passed, knowing they were hoping for Niko to throw her down on the floor and do what they all knew he was going to as soon as he got her alone. They all knew it, knew it about all of the “prizes,” but not one of them would lift a hand to help. Sick bastards. Even if he didn’t get here in time to find her, she hoped that Logan and his guys
did
find this place…and gut each and every one of these assholes.

They passed her father, still on his dais like a lord. He turned away, refusing to make eye contact.

“Yeah, you fucking look away…” she yelled, making sure her voice rose over the music and the noise from the ring. “It’s not like you traded your own fucking children to get your worthless ass out of the shit. I hope you rot in fucking hell!”

Her voice had risen to a near scream but it made no difference. James still ignored her and in seconds they were past the main area and heading for one of the back doors. Fuck that noise. She dug her heels in, using her bodyweight to slow his progress. She no longer held out any hope that Logan was coming for her, but no way in hell was she hurrying toward her own fate.

She knew men like Niko of old. He wanted her and he intended to take her, no matter what she had to say about the matter. It would be bloody and brutal because she wasn’t going to give anything up easily. If she survived tonight, and that was a big if, beatings would follow when he worked out that he couldn’t control her. Ever. Within a week he’d get too heavy with his fists and they’d find her body dumped somewhere. Same old story she’d seen repeated over the years with fighters’ women.

In the league they tried to filter out the assholes, dropped them when they got violent and put the women into protection programs. She doubted her father had anything like that set up, or even cared. His shit-show here was just into money, not welfare.

A figure blocked their path for a moment, forcing Niko to slow down. She looked around him and her heart sank. The sleazeball from the function the other night stood in their way, a grin on his face.

“Look at how the mighty have fallen.” He chuckled, his gaze sliding down her body like oil. “Should’ve taken me up on my offer, sweetcheeks, because now you’re totally fucked. Doubt there’s gonna be anything left worth looking at after big boy here is done with y—”

She didn’t let him finish his sentence. Anger exploded through her and she surged forward, slamming a knee hard into his groin. Unlike Niko, he was no fighter and had no defensive reactions. The hard part of her knee connected squarely with his crotch and he dropped like a stone.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she spat, trying to kick him again as Niko hauled her off, hands hard on her upper arms as he dragged her out of the back door.

The door led to a dingy back corridor, which in turn opened out into the filthiest alley Zara had ever seen in her life. It wasn’t the stylized dirty look so popular in glossy magazine photoshoots with elegant models reclining in gorgeous gowns against fire escapes and walls. It was just filthy and smelly, no spray-on dirt required. Three of the lights were out, the fourth well in its way. It fizzed and popped, throwing intermittent light across the alley better than any club’s strobe lighting.

With a gasp, she tried to pull away from Niko and instantly regretted it. Not because of the hardening of his hand on her arm, but the fact the intake of breath flooded her lungs with an explosion of scents.

There was an overwhelming bouquet of urine and vomit, like all the local down-and-outs had designated
this
alley as the latrine, but even that didn’t quite mask the smell of the drunk by the dumpster. Or the fact he’d been drinking cheap whiskey. She lifted her head a little. There was a Chinese restaurant nearby and, her nose wrinkled in disgust, they weren’t too choosy about where they got their meat.