Twisted

And he meant it.

“Now who’s the cocky one, hmm?”

“I want your vow. No harm will come to them. Now, during or after. No question, no matter the outcome.”

Sorin nodded. “You have my word.”

The ease with which he offered the concession made Aden think he’d never planned to hurt the foursome. That wasn’t going to save him, not now, but it did defuse the hottest threads of Aden’s fury.

With a shrug, the black robe draping Sorin’s shoulders fell to the ground, leaving him as bare-chested as Aden. Difference was, Sorin’s torso was covered in fresh wards. There was not an inch of pale skin visible. Only black ink on top of black ink, circles on top of circles. Aden briefly wondered what the guy was warded against before clearing his mind. He had to concentrate.

Together they approached the center of the metal ring, then stopped, only a whisper away from each other. Aden had been in more fistfights than he could count, but they’d always been spur-of-the-moment, his mind lost to whatever emotion or insult that had brought him to that point. He’d never coldly, calculatingly planned to brawl like this.

“I think I would have liked you in other circumstances,” Sorin said. Just before drilling his knuckles into Aden’s eye socket.

His arm moved so quickly, Aden registered only a blur before tumbling backward, pain exploding through his head. He managed to remain on his feet as the entire world went silent, black. There was no rain, no crowd, no souls. No…anything. Not even time. He was deaf, dumb and blind, his brain completely shut down.

Aden just stood there, lost, barely breathing, until he saw a sudden flash of white. A return to black. Another flash of white, one that lasted a little longer. Black. White. Black, white, as if someone were playing with a light switch inside his head.

Then he heard a little whoosh of noise, the only precursor to the sudden boom as the world slammed back into focus. He heard, he knew, he saw, but there was no time to react. Sorin was on him, fists pummeling like a jackhammer, over and over again, raining down, never stopping.

Come on, come on. Get in this thing. Using all of his strength, Aden kneed him in the balls. And if Sorin had still possessed his beast, the creature would have come roaring out at exactly that moment in a bid to protect Aden from further damage, because Sorin hunched over and screamed with unholy rage.

The down and dirty action gave Aden a necessary reprieve—and time to jerk his knee up, slamming Sorin under his chin, sending him soaring to his back.

Aden raced to him, intending to pin the guy’s shoulders with his knees and just start whaling, but Sorin pulled up his legs, rolling with Aden’s weight before kicking. This time, Aden was the one to soar to his back. A blink of his swelling eyes, and Sorin was on him.

Punch, punch, punch. “Any time you want to give up, all you have to do is kneel before me and proclaim your loyalty.”

“Go screw yourself,” he managed between blows.

“Original.”

“Appropriate.”

Punch, punch. Several of the bones in his face shattered. His nose might have snapped in half; some of the cartilage definitely shifted to one side. Adrenaline shot through his veins as if he’d injected it, warming him up, strengthening him. But was it enough?

Calm. You have to stay calm.

Elijah’s voice.

Ignored.

With a roar that matched the one in his head, the one growing, growing, growing in volume, Aden threw a punch of his own. Then another and another and another, until Sorin stopped hitting him to save his own face from a battering. A golden opportunity. Aden reached up, grabbed him under the arms and shoved, flipping the warrior over him. He didn’t release his hold, but allowed himself to flip, as well, so that he was finally the one on top.

He spit blood and what looked to be a Chiclet—a tooth! Then he held Sorin’s face with one hand and rained down the fury with the other. Boom, boom, boom, so fast he couldn’t see even the blur. Or maybe his eyesight was too cloudy, his lids desperate to glue together and (hopefully) heal.

To Elijah’s delight, every punch calmed him.

But Sorin didn’t stay down for long and gave another kick. They were thrust apart. Aden slammed into the wall of spectators. Some fell with him, others pushed at him, but he felt the desires of their beasts. The desire to emerge and save him.

“No,” he yelled. “Don’t. Stay.”

They obeyed, none slipping from their hosts and solidifying. How much time before they forgot his command and did as they wished? Probably not much. End this, he had to end this.

Sorin must have felt the same, because they leaped at each other, rolling together, throwing elbows and knees, going for soft spots—nose, throat and groin. Every new punch Aden threw would have fortified the calm, if every punch he received hadn’t fanned the flames back up.

Soon blood was flowing from a gaping cut across Sorin’s hairline. Blood that snared Aden’s attention. Maybe because it was a vampire’s blood. Maybe because it had the same sweet, dark scent as Victoria’s.

Taste…must taste…

As distracted as he was, Sorin managed to knock him sideways. He stumbled into the spectators, and this time he could hear their beasts. Roars, so many roars. Still they remained in their cages, but just barely.

Would have served Sorin right to lose that way. To be humbled by the very beasts he’d mocked Aden for taming. But Aden had a point to prove, or Victoria’s brother would never take him seriously.

Wait. You’re going to let him live? He’d decided to end him, hadn’t he?

Taste…

Aden shoved from the crowd and dove for Sorin. Again they rolled, again they twisted and fought like animals.

“I didn’t want it to end this way, but I’m glad it did.” Sorin bared his fangs and swooped down to bite Aden’s neck.

Only, he couldn’t. His fangs wouldn’t pierce the skin. The warrior was shocked, yes, but reacted as if he’d trained for such a thing. Before Aden could extract himself, Sorin raised his hand and removed the covering of a ring very similar to the one Aden wore. He dribbled the contents over Aden’s neck. The burn was instantaneous, sweeping through his entire body in seconds and engulfing him with flames. Felt like it, anyway.

His throat clogged up, cutting off his air supply. His fury was joined by fear and pain, all three consuming him.

With a snarl, Sorin pinned him, his fangs drilling deep into the wound. Suction. So much suction. Taking the flames and replacing them with ice. No matter how much Aden struggled, he couldn’t dislodge those teeth.

When his struggles slowed, stopped, he knew. He was going to die.

The roaring inside his head increased so much, became so loud, it was all Aden could hear. Roaring, roaring, roaring—quieting now. No, not quieting, he realized hazily. Leaving him. Ripping at his insides. Rising from his head, something sharp shooting from his back. Soon a creature was hovering over him, moving beside him. A black mist, taking shape. A snout, wings, claws. Roaring, roaring, roaring, blending with gasps of terror.

Someone’s beast had escaped.

Sorin was torn from him, fangs practically taking Aden’s trachea with them. He lay there a moment, panting, sweating but cold. He could still win this, he thought. He hadn’t admitted defeat, and he wasn’t yet dead. How could he be, when every muscle and bone he possessed ached? First, though, he had to ensure Victoria’s safety.

Gingerly he sat up, the wound in his neck pulling, stinging. Blood poured down him, washing away in the steady drizzle of rain. Dizziness was a bitch, and a while passed before he could focus. When he did, he saw