Ringside

HAZEL

Rex launches a fist into a guy’s face so hard he flips backward. All night it’s been the sickening sound of fists against flesh and bone.

~What the fuck am I doing here?~

Bodies brush against me in the crowded first row. Some might call these the best seats, but we’re so close to the action that Rex’s sweat flies off on us.

And it’s making me hornier and hornier.

God, this makes no sense.

I shouldn’t be here.

I should be revolted.

I shouldn’t have to resist running my fingers between my legs.

~Rex needs to be inside me again ASAP. ~

In the arena, Rex grabs the back of another burly man’s neck, then lodges his knee into the man’s chiseled abdomen over and over.

Behind Rex, a man with a steel pipe charges him.

~Now they have weapons! ~

“Look out!” I scream, recoiling, and nearly dropping my vodka soda.

Rex locks eyes with me, and without even looking, catches the pipe mid-swing.

Around me, the crowd claps and stomps, eating up every second.

But a fire consumes my heart.

A sweat laces my brow.

I want to be in there, right beside Rex.

I want to be fucking up that fool that’s stupid enough to challenge my man.

~My man?~

I rub my fingers over my eyes.

Rex. Killed. Nick.

~The dragon slayer. ~

Could I believe such a thing? That Nick was after me for my…

~Powers? ~

Rex continues to lace into another group of adversaries, all of whom are armed with pipes, bats, and other blunt weapons.

I can’t bear the violence.

~Not unless I’m going to be a part of it. ~

What is it with me?

Maybe it has something to do with what Rex called me before.

~A Sword Dancer? ~

Memories of Nick flood my mind.

We had a perfect life embracing all the wonders that our lush backgrounds afforded us.

~Didn’t we?~

The sound of Rex snapping a man’s arm echoes throughout the ring. It gives me shivers and I recall a time when Nick wouldn’t let me take self-defense classes.

He told me, “I don’t want my pretty little flower to wilt from punches to the head.”

He made it sound like I was going to be some cage fighter or something.

Like I was going to be addicted to violence…

~Like Rex. ~

Come to think of it, Nick never allowed me near knives. If I wanted to cook, he or a maid did the chopping and slicing.

I couldn’t even bring a garden shovel out to pull weeds.

Nick kept me in a box.

A thousand more memories flood through my mind, shattering my illusion of him.

The late, late nights he would be “working.”

All the times he snuck back into bed at sunrise.

The private phone calls he would take in the middle of dinner, excusing himself and getting out of earshot.

I chug the rest of my drink.

It all seemed so normal to me at the time.

I watch Rex slap down a fighter, then twist another’s arm and hold the whimpering, sweaty, muscular man to the cheering crowd.

Watching him move…feels…so familiar.

A vision fills my sight, and it’s not some memory of Nick.

~I see Rex, but his outfit is like something out of that trunk of medieval armor. He fights gracefully in a tight and form-fitting black leather cuirass.~

~A dozen men charge him with swords and axes. He takes most of them with nothing but his claws, but one warrior is about to swing an axe at his head. ~

~And then I stick out a sword, deflect the axe, and decapitate the warrior. ~

The vision is so close behind my eyes it feels real. I can feel the steel of the sword handle in my hands.

Still, my eyes are closed.

~I see Rex and I moving in complete synchronization, fighting back an army. ~

Then a hand rests on my forearm and I bolt out of my vision.

“Hey,” Adara Dobrzycka says, “you look like you could use a drink.”

Sibling to Loch and Hael, the owners of this show. What does she want?

She hands me a neon blue drink that smells very booze-heavy.

Hesitantly, I accept.

“House specialty,” she says with a sly smile. “Vodka, gin, and blue curacao. We call it a dragon's ice.”

“Cute, thanks.”

“I saw you were put on the VIP list at the last minute by Rex,” Adara says, flipping her purple hair over her shoulder.

She is flawlessly beautiful and has a confidence I never thought I could match.

That is, until I shared a bed with Rex.

Now I feel like I could do anything.

“Yeah,” I say, unsure of the surprise interrogation, “that was nice of him.”

“Sure was,” Adara says, sipping on her drink.

I take a sip too and grin at the incredible taste.

“Alright,” I laugh, loosening up, “that’s actually fantastic.”

“Told ya!” Adara winks.

For a second, we watch the show. Rex climbs the cage, waves to the crowd, flips into a mid-air somersault, and crashes down on a floored opponent.

“So,” Adara says, leaning in so I can hear her over the shouting, “what’s with the dagger?”

Dagger?

~How the fuck did she know?~

My face must reveal my shock because Adara adds, “It’s my job to make sure shit like that doesn’t come in here. So, what’s with it? You a slayer?”

“Me? No!” I say defensively.

It’s true. I pulled a dagger from the trunk after Rex left me alone. It seemed to call my name.

It seemed to say…

~Sword Dancer. ~

“That’s an ancient slayer’s weapon,” Adara says, frowning. “It’s killed many of my people.”

I shake my head and apologize. “I’m sorry. It was stupid to bring it here. I can’t explain, but I felt compelled to hold it.”

I slide the dagger out of the sheath on my tall leather boot and hand it over to Adara.

Before Adara can accept, her face goes pale.

My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach.

With an intense blue glow, the dagger’s blade lights up.