Black Magic (The Raven Queen's Harem 3)

“That’s Hildi. She’s a Valkyrie. If she offers you a drink you take it.”

“And if you don’t?”

He laughs. “She’s a little like you. Blessed with the power of a Goddess. She also thrives on war. And in ancient times traveled with Ravens. It gives her an affinity for me and the others, although I don’t think she really knows why.”

I tilt my head. “And do you have an affinity in return?”

He slips his arm around my back and pulls me close. In my ear he whispers, “It doesn’t work that way and you know it. You’ve claimed our hearts, bodies and minds. You dictate our whims and in return we protect you from the Darkness that lurks at the edges. Don’t question our loyalty.”

I turn and our lips are nearly touching. I feel his breath. I see the determination in his eyes and I don’t doubt him for a second. Jealousy has no place in our relationship and I understand his conviction. I lick my lips and I’d claim him for real right here and now but a bright light flashes over the ring. He brushes my nose with his, breaking the moment. “It’s about to start.”

I have no idea what to expect but I focus on the ring. The lights dim around us and the rowdy crowd settles—a little. A tall man strides to the middle, a spotlight glaring off his smooth, brown skin. His teeth are white, and from my seat, appear sharp.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen! Are you ready for the Monday night free-for-all?”

“What’s the free-for-all?” I ask.

“It’s when anyone can throw their names in. Other nights have organized fights. Sort of like regular boxing or wrestling.”

“And you thought I’d toss my name

in? To fight angel-hybrid-Valkyrie warriors?”

He smiles and shrugs.

I can’t even with him.

Two more spotlights click on, one zooming to opposite corners. Two men stand on each side dressed like a mixture of a MMA fighter and possibly a ninja. I have no idea what is even going on down there.

“Watch these two. You’ll learn a lot. That’s Diamond Dave and Rocky Boa.”

“What kind of names are those?” I ask, but Clinton’s eyes are glued to the scene below. I expect a little fanfare but there’s nothing but the sound of a buzzer announcing the start of the fight. Both men move to the center of the ring, circling one another. I’m not sure what Damien wants me to learn and I’m about to tell him so when what happens on the stage nearly forces me to my feet.

“Oh my God,” I say, rising up. Damien tugs me back down in my seat.

Black tendrils slither down one Rocky Boa’s arms. It looks like smoke but I blink and realize they’re snakes.

Snakes.

Dave doesn’t seem remotely surprised and he flicks his wrists, revealing a series of blades. They glint in the bright light and a wicked grin appears on his mouth.

“Blades?”

“It’s legal. Anything goes in there.”

Dave slashes through the air, cutting off the head of one snake. In reaction, two more appear. The smile slips and he goes for Rocky’s body. Clinton leans in and says, “The snakes are a protection. The more he cuts them the more they’ll appear, eventually wrapping Rocky in a body of armor. Dave needs to go for throat.”

“The throat?” I watch as the fighter does just that, taking a sharp swipe at the other man’s neck. He misses but the snakes hiss in fear and as the snakes grow they slither along the canvas ring, growing into something larger, scarier.

“All Dave has to do is nick him and he’ll go down. Those blades are dipped in poison.” Sure enough. Dave goes after him again, this time tearing a hole in Rocky’s shirt. The snakes circle around and around, zeroing in on Dave.

“They’re going to get him,” I say about Dave, covering my eyes. The sound of the snakes hissing echoes in my ears.

“Don’t be so sure.”

I take a peek just in time to see Dave perform a pretty fantastic acrobatic move, jumping over the snakes and using the corner post of the ring as leverage. He flips in the air, slicing so fast I can’t see his movements. Snake heads roll and the smoke conjures more but Dave has Rocky on the ground with a blade against his pale neck. The snakes continue to circle but blood is drawn, spilling from Rocky’s neck. The serpents offer one last hiss before fading into thin air. Rocky’s body lies in a pool of blood. The crowd is on their feet, shouting in a chorus of cheers and jeers, depending on who they wanted to win.

“He’s dead?” I ask, feeling sick to my stomach.