Blooded

perfectly positioned foot into his face as hard as I could—“in your fucking eye.”

A satisfying crack sounded and Mitch sprang back, staggering away from me, cupping the wound, blood flowing freely between his fingers. “Goddammit!”

I gulped in a few breaths, compensating for the lost oxygen. Sticky blood streamed down my back in hot rivulets, but I couldn’t let it distract me. I had to find a way to erase it from my mind—and taunting Mitch sounded like the best place to start. “What’s the matter? Did that hurt?”

Mitch snarled fiercely.

I scuttled back out of his reach. Even though I’d likely shattered both his frontal and maxillary bones, it would take him only a few moments to recover. Stupid werewolf healing. And even though he was a wolf, he still felt pain, which always worked in my favor.

After a moment, Mitch dropped his hand, fury roiling across his features in churning waves of hate.

Blood coated his face, red leaking slowly out of the still-healing wound, dripping onto his formerly white T- shirt, making it look like a horror-soaked tie-dye. As I watched, the fractured bones began to set themselves in real time. It was completely unnerving, even though I’d seen live-action healing many times before. It was straight out of a sci-fi movie on the FX Channel—only this was the real thing. Mitchy was going to be good as new in less than a minute.

A low-level growl sounded from outside the ring as Josh nudged himself closer to the ropes, his agitation clear, his eyes sparking more than a little yellow. Shit. Betas, overall, had never given me as much trouble as alpha-born wolves, but they were still stronger than I was. If the fight moved along at a quick pace, Josh should keep to himself. Instinct would demand he let his superior-status brother, and Pack mate, have the kill. If Mitch went down, Josh could feasibly jump in. But fighting two wolves was not on the agenda tonight, so I had to make sure that didn’t happen. Lucky for me, Mitch was ready to play again.

“You’re about to hurt.” A slow smile crept over Mitch’s bloodied lips. He dove for me, his sharp nails latching on to my arms before I could get clear, and with one fierce tug I was airborne. I spun, crashing into the corner headfirst. I fell into the mat, a long gash above my hairline, fresh blood rushing into my eyes. I’d lost my advantage—or rather my perceived advantage—and had to think fast.

I dug deep into my arsenal of survival skills while I was down, my brain flipping at warp speed through tactics. There was only one real option left, so I stilled my breath completely, relaxed all my muscles, and lolled my head to the side.

I played dead.

Wolves could scent a lie. They could hear your heart beating in your chest. Mitch would know I wasn’t completely dead, but hopefully—especially since he was fueled by a hefty dose of male arrogance—he would assume I was well on my way. Fortunately for me, the bias all macho wolves shared was: Females were weak. It should work in my favor. Killing me in cold blood should be next to impossible for him, his instinct demanding a chase and a fight, though he was so riled at this point I couldn’t exactly rule it out. But I had no choice. I needed more time.

“Get up,” Mitch spat. The floor bounced as he stalked toward me. “I know you’re not dead. Stop playing with me. I’ve had enough of your bullshit to last me multiple lifetimes.”

I didn’t move. My heartbeat slowed considerably with each breath.

“I said get up.” He kicked me in the side. Hard.

Air whooshed out of my lungs, but my eyelids didn’t waver. My body rolled like a rag doll. I knew

I’d have only a millisecond to react once I decided to make a move, and I had to time it just right.

“I mean it.” Mitch pressed his heel into my abdomen and jerked my body. “Get the hell up and—”

I sprang, wrapping one arm tightly around the foot prodding me, using it as a pendulum to swing myself around, bringing the palm of my other hand forward as hard as I could straight into his kneecap. Several small bones in my hand snapped on contact, but there was a satisfying crunch as

Mitch’s patella shattered under the force of the blow. He went down on his injured knee with a yowl. I used my other hand, the unbroken one, to grab his other ankle. I jumped up and dropped my weight onto it until I heard another snap. “This up enough for you?” I panted as I staggered back a few steps, trying to find my equilibrium. My head rang as I impatiently swiped at the blood still leaking down my face.

He would heal quickly again, but if I was lucky, I’d get a minute or two before the next round.

Mitch snarled, clasping on to my leg in the next breath.

I’d stayed too damn close. He whipped his arm out and I landed flat on my back, the pain of my wounds blinding me as I hit the mat. His nails embedded deeply in my flesh. He pulled me closer, ripping my skin as he went. He wasn’t letting his prey go this time. “I don’t care if they kill me for this. It’s worth it,” he spat. “I will die knowing I put an end to you.”

“That doesn’t sound good to me. How about I kill you instead?” I arched myself up, bending at the waist and twisting my fist like a sledgehammer, pounding it into his trachea.

Mitch sputtered, but didn’t let go. Rage fueled him, which was so not in my favor. Instead, he rolled on me from the side, crushing the air from my lungs, his ankle and knee already fully healed.

Without letting up, he sank his teeth into my thigh. Pain exploded behind my eyelids. “You are not… going to…win.” He lifted his head, blood dripping from his teeth, his voice ragged through his injured windpipe. “I’m a fucking wolf…and you’re nothing.”

The pain in my leg blinded me to almost everything else. It burned like a terrible, hissing fire, threatening to derail me. For the first time since I’d entered the ring, a twinge of regret raced through me. I wasn’t a wolf. I wasn’t as strong as a wolf. And I’d never engaged one on this level. It was foolhardy in every way, but dammit, I had to change things. I had no other choice. No wolf had ever challenged me, because if they had, my father would’ve killed them. Before today, it had kept the balance on the Compound in check. Fighting Mitch in the arena was a defiant move—a move to mark myself, to prove to Pack I was ready to defend myself and stop living in the shadows. It hadn’t taken much to convince Mitch to come here, his fear and anger clouding his judgment—if he’d had any to start with. But if I died at Mitch’s hands right now, then it would defeat everything I was trying to achieve, and all would be for nothing.

Pack would win and I would be gone.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I wriggled one of my arms out from under him and grabbed the thing closest to me, which was a wad of his blond locks, twisting them around my fist once for good measure. I yanked as hard as I could, wrenching his head away from me. Vanity’s clearly a bitch for any sex.

He snarled, snapping his body back, ripping his hair out of my grasp right as his fist collided with the side of my head.

For a split second, everything flashed to black. When I opened my eyes, Mitch was gone. But before I could register anything more than foggy shapes, hands grasped me around the middle and I was tossed against the ropes. I bounced once, but snared myself with the cuff of my wrist. I stood on both feet, my head bowed, my ears ringing.

“Fight me, bitch!” Mitch shouted. “Or are you too weak, you human freak?”

“Weakness has nothing to do with it,” I panted, leaning forward, unhooking my arms and locking them on my thighs to keep me upright. I had to keep talking; it was either that or have him kill me and be done with it. An enraged wolf was a sloppy wolf. “If you haven’t noticed, you just let a human female break your bones—repeatedly. How does that feel, big, strong werewolf?” I tilted my head up and met his eyes for the first time. It was a defiant gesture meant to enrage. Direct eye contact and wolves didn’t mix. It sent them to their crazy place. “I can’t wait until word of your pansy-assness spreads to all your cronies. I’m sure they’ll only razz you for a few years—”

He had me by the neck, his breath foul and nasty against my cheek. “Bye-bye, Jessica.” My blood stained the edges of his mouth. “So sorry to see you go.”

“I’m not”—I took a sharp breath in, forcing my jaw open so air could reach my windpipe—“ready to go… yet.” My fingers found what they’d been seeking. Not hard, since it was a big target. They usually were. I gave a fierce squeeze, locking my entire hand around it, nails and all. Mitch yelped, his eyes widening. “How does this feel, you piece of shi—”

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?” The double doors into the arena exploded off their hinges, clattering