Akasha 4 - Earth (36 page)

I couldn't nod fast enough.

"Good girl." He thrust two fingers
inside, several times in a row. His teeth found my nipple through
my thin shirt. Heat raced through my midsection, threatening to
engulf me in flames.

He stopped again.

I gritted my teeth to keep from
screaming in frustration.

"I decided what I want."

I opened my eyes. Even in the dark, I
could see those green irises boring into me.

"You give me what I want…and I'll give
you what you want." His hand in between my legs shifted, and I felt
the tips of three fingers at my entrance. He lowered his voice even
further, "Do you want this, Kaitlyn."

"Yes." I nodded.
Dear God, yes!

"I want you to win this fight tonight,
Kaitlyn. And I want you to come out alive and well."

I blinked. Technically, that was three
things. He pressed his fingers in, a little bit at a time, then
stopped. "Will you do that for me, Kaitlyn?"

Three for three; seemed fair. I nodded
again.

He released my wrists in order to
remove the band from my mouth. "Promise me, Kaitlyn. Out loud.
Promise me you'll be okay tonight."

My hand went to his cheek. "Yes,
Micah. I promise."

He bit the inside of his cheek,
nodding – accepting my promise. His bicep flexed, and all three
fingers entered me. I threw my head back again and moaned, not
caring who heard me. My fingers curled in, scraping his cheek along
the way.

"Faster," I huffed out, in between
breaths.

"Start it now, Kaitlyn," he answered
in reply.

"No – too soon."

"Do it, or I swear I'll
stop."

I met his eyes. He wasn't bluffing. I
opened a connection between us. The magic was mostly Earth, like
the signal that went out to identify Elementals, only in reverse.
The energy started to flow – I barely had to call it. I tried
slowing it, meaning to take just a little this time. He probably
couldn't stand to lose much more. It was a miracle he was standing
at all.

"No," Micah said. "Take
more."

Before I could protest, he bent lower
and found my nipple again. The pinching sensation sent ripples of
pleasure throughout my body. In a magnetic-like response, energy
pulsated through the open connection. I rode the high until spasms
froze me in place. In one final burst, energy shot through, and the
connection closed.

My feet hit pavement – I hadn't
realized I was in the air. I found Micah's eyes, using them to
ground me while my orgasm subsided. Then he fell away.

I swiped, trying to catch the loose
fabric at his chest. My fingers brushed cotton, but never caught
hold. I watched in slow motion. His hands didn't move to protect
him; he had gone unconscious.

The hard slap of skull against
concrete never came. Soft, scarred hands slipped underneath just in
time.

Natasha, good.
Natasha…
My eyes went wide with
surprise.
Oh, crap.

I bent, hastily tugging at my clothes.
It wasn't just Natasha, it was her whole crew. They were all pawing
Micah's unconscious body, trying to determine the best course of
action. I narrowed my eyes at them while I zipped up my
pants.

"Here, you lost this," Natasha shoved
her hand in front of my face, holding out the blue
armband.

My cheeks went red, half
in anger and half with embarrassment.
How
much did they see?

"Psst, Kaitlyn."

I turned – Clay stood at
the other end of the building motioning me over.
How much did
he
see?

"Wait, I—"

"Go," Natasha interrupted me,
practically pushing me toward Clay. "We’ve got this."

They already had Micah lifted, moving
him away in the other direction. I caught a glimpse of his face.
Deep scratches ran down his cheek. A new wound at his forearm was
bandaged.

When did that
happen?

The group turned the corner with their
very handsome, very vulnerable patient in tow, and
disappeared.

"Where have you been? The fight was
supposed to start five minutes ago." Clay was at my side now,
tugging me along.

I let him lead me away. I was riding
Micah's high; it was hard to concentrate. Everything seemed cloudy
and surreal. "Did you get the sand bags in place?" I
asked.

He nodded. "Each bag has a few small
holes poked in them, like you asked." We peered around the corner
of the building at the main entrance. "You go through first.
Contenders are supposed to arrive alone."

"Okay, wish me luck." I blinked, still
a little dazed.

Clay raised an eyebrow at me. "You are
practically glowing. I think I'm gonna need to wish the other guy
luck."

I laughed, but it came out sounding
strangled. I turned before he could see my cheeks turning red
again, covered the distance to the brick steps in long strides, and
marched up.

"Name," said the guard.

I cleared my throat.
"Lucy."

"You're not on the list."

"Oh." This was…weird.

"Are you sure?" I tried again. "Lucy
Evermore – I'm a contender." I straightened my back, hoping to
heighten my appearance.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" He flipped
his notebook shut. "You have to go in through that entrance." He
nodded to a door down the length of the building.

"Why?" I squinted to see a
dilapidated, rusted piece of metal barely hanging from its
hinges.

He shrugged. "I guess because of the
betting. Seeing fighters before the match gives the gamblers an
edge. We have to close betting before you come into the
ring."

"Makes sense, I guess." I had no idea
others would have a stake in the fight. I tried running through how
that would complicate everything in my head, when I caught the
guard still looking at me. I went back down the stairs. "Like
seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding." My laugh was
nervous, and wholly unconvincing.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs,
and asked, "Just curious, who are you betting on?"

The guard looked me from top to bottom
and back again, then said, "The other guy."

Chapter
55

The Dragon

I navigated the rusty door, wondering
if my last tetanus shot was still effective. They had shoved enough
needles in me the first few days I’d arrived at The Seven; one of
them was surely tetanus.

The door slammed shut behind me,
plunging me into darkness. A small flame unfolded on the other side
of the room. Its owner moved it higher, revealing his face. "You're
late."

Long, jagged scars ran from his temple
to his mouth, pulling his upper lip in a permanent, cruel smile. He
was missing several teeth on the same side of his mouth.

"What happened?" The question was out
of my mouth before I could stop it. I still wasn't thinking
straight.

He raised his eyebrows. "I was a
contender."

I gasped. My hand shot up to cover my
mouth – so far I was having a hard time being very
contender-like.

The other side of his mouth curled up,
completing the smile. "I was the winner."

My hand dropped, and the blood drained
from my face.

He turned, motioning for me to follow
down a long corridor. His body obscured the ball of fire he held
above his palm, and for once I was thankful to be in the dark. The
corners where wall met floor were blurry, no matter how hard I
stared at them. My feet didn't feel like they were moving, but I
kept up with the Fire just the same. My dreamlike reality didn't
bode well for the fight.

We passed a dilapidated bar. Behind it
on the wall was a faded spray painted word, "Sigi."

"Named after the building's founder,"
the Fire said. He pushed open a door. Deep, rhythmic chanting
floated up the stairwell – getting louder as we
descended.

"We are going to the catacombs of the
Tivoli Center. Used to be where the beer was stored, then it was
used as storage for the university."

"Now a convenient place for dog
fights," I mumbled. My tongue felt thick and sticky.

He shook his head. "No. The fights are
in a new place each time. Otherwise the Elementals would find some
way to cheat."

I snorted. I’d still found a way to
cheat. I wondered if my opponent had, too.

Our feet hit cement, and the chanting
was loud enough to drown out any other thoughts. Even the walls
seemed to reverberate in rhythm. My heartbeat picked up speed,
matching the pace of the chanting.

The Fire stopped just outside of a
double door. I peered through the foggy glass on my tiptoes. It was
a sea of faces, all shouting.

"What's happening?" I tried jumping
for a better view.

The Fire put his hand on my shoulder,
leaning in so I could hear him better. "They just introduced your
opponent. He is the title holder, for five fights now."

"Just five?" A small flower of hope
bloomed in my chest.

He looked at me, eyebrows furrowed,
then leaned in again. "There have only been six. It didn't take
long for people to stop volunteering as contenders."

The flower went up in flame; their
ashes leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

"Listen," he continued. "No one is
allowed to interfere, magically. There are refs posted throughout
and they will stop the fight and declare a winner. There are three
rounds; each two minutes long. If you last the length of the fight,
the refs will declare a winner. There are no tapouts…" The Fire’s
voice droned on about the rules; most of which I didn't
understand.

I stared at the glass windows. The fog
seemed to be spreading out, leaving a white film over the doors,
across the walls and down to the floor. I watched the ghostly lines
reach for me.

"Ok," the Fire's voice came back to
me. "They’re introducing you now," he smirked, looking at me
sideways. "As Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt." He paused for two
moments, then pushed on both doors. Our small cove was flooded with
even more noise.

I floated forward.

"Welcome to the dog fights, Artemis,"
the Fire said, smiling as I moved past him.

The sea of people parted, revealing a
tight, crooked path to a ring of overturned filing cabinets. I
rubbed shoulders with people as I passed. Some leaned away, but all
kept shouting. No matter how hard I squinted, none of their faces
would come into focus.

Up and over the filing cabinets, and
into the ring I went. The man in the ring with me bounced around on
the opposite side, just as faceless as the rest. I tried to
remember what Erika had told me about him.

I wonder if Erika is here
now.
I looked around at the screaming
audience.
I wonder where Clay
is.

My questions barely had time to form
in my head, when I heard a muffled dong of a bell. My eyes floated
back to the other person in the ring, now walking toward
me.

Has it begun?

I saw a flash of a fist, dull and
huge, in front of me, then my nose exploded with pain.

When I opened my eyes, the arena was
sideways. Someone was counting down.

"9…8…7…"

What happened to
10
, I thought.
Did I get knocked out, already?

"6…5…"

I sucked in the slobber protruding
from my mouth, and tasted blood and dust. I propped myself up on
one elbow. Anger lit through my body, overtaking even the pain in
my throbbing face. Micah had given me everything he had, and now he
was in the hands of multiple other women, trying to save him. And
here I was, a few seconds into it, on the floor and
losing.

"4…3…"

My ears honed into the sound of liquid
drops hitting the floor. My blood.

"2…"

I hopped to my feet, removing my
t-shirt, already covered in red. I wiped my face with it and tossed
it aside. The crowd piped up; the shouts a mixture of encouragement
and jeers. I could follow the sound of each shout back to its
owner.

My eyes lifted to my opponent, taking
him in with new clarity. His eyebrows lifted, and he was trying to
hide a smile. He was relieved I’d recovered, not
disappointed.

Age 28, a Fire who calls
himself Dragon, and a logger before Daybreak
, a memory of Erika’s voice reached me. He was bigger than
Micah, and thick with muscle. Maybe slower on his feet than
me.
He's cocky, doesn't work much around
camp anymore. Still riding his status as belt holder – no one
challenges him, not even when he skips sentry duty.
His hands were not the hands of a worker. No
cuts, and smooth, even skin. Dragon had become lazy with his new
status. His hands did, however, have a spray of my blood across the
knuckles.
Prides himself on physical
fighting, he won't resort to his element until he starts
losing.