Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I point at the ravager fae with my left hand, my right having been tied behind my back. “You’re going to pay for that.”
The patrons surrounding the ring from a ledge above cheer over my taunt, and I see money being exchanged as bets are increased.
I don’t scare the ravager. He is the cruelest, most vicious type of Dark Fae in existence. They were bred and evolved into fearless killing machines and once he committed to fight me, he knew it would be to the death.
Of course, I had to agree to have one hand tied behind my back because I’m a demigod and no fae can match my strength. I also had to agree that I would use no weapons and the fae could use whatever implement he wanted. Still, he’s at a disadvantage.
My jaw fractures are knit by the time I start across the dirt floor toward my opponent. He hisses at me while twirling the iron bar, waiting for me to get within striking distance.
When I’m five feet away, he circles the bar over his head and swings like he’s aiming for a home run and my head is the baseball. I bend backward, the bar whizzing so close to my nose I feel a puff of air from it. The fae stops his momentum and brings the bar in a backhanded swipe, but I grab his forearm. With a hard twist, I snap both the bones above his wrist. He howls in pain and the bar falls to the ground. His fractures will heal but not as quickly as mine do.
I shove him away from me, unwilling to end the fight. I kick the weapon toward him and nod. “Pick it up. Let’s go.”
More raucous cheers and the ravager doesn’t disappoint. With his broken arm dangling, he ignores the bar and moves to a wooden wall where other weapons hang. He chooses a long broadsword, which is smart.
It’s heavy and with the right strike, he could cleave my head from my body. About the only thing in this ring that could guarantee him a victory and I can’t say the thought of such a thing bothers me all that bad.
Yeah… I’ve been in the pissiest mood since Zora made me admit I loved her only to tell me she didn’t feel the same. It was inherently cruel, but it hurt because I heard the truth in her tone. Now I’m questioning my own sanity because I can’t understand what I ever saw in her to begin with that could lead me to believe it was more than just an amazing fuck. I only know I can’t expel all the torment she’s caused, so I’m concentrating on other types of pain.
The fae swings the broadsword and I’m so lost in my ire against Zora I barely react in time. I twist to the left and the tip of the weapon slices right down my triceps.
“Fuck,” I roar in fury, mostly at myself for not paying attention.
Before my opponent can lift the sword, I backhand him across the face and teeth spray from his mouth. The force is sufficient to drive him down to one knee.
He uses the hilt of the sword to try to pull himself up but I launch a hard kick with my booted foot under his chin. The force of the impact snaps his head backward with such propulsion, I hear his spine crack and his body thuds to the dirt.
He’s not dead, though. That injury will heal in time, but this contest isn’t over until one of us is dead. I grab the broadsword, heft it up, and bring it down on the ravager’s neck. His head rolls a few feet away, staring at me with sightless eyes before his body starts to turn black.
As is the way with all Dark Fae, he burns up in a matter of seconds, turning to a pile of ash, which eventually disintegrates completely.
The spectators roar their approval, and more money exchanges hands. I toss the sword away and reach behind my back to undo the leather that had been holding my other arm hostage. Twisting my neck, I take in the large slice down my arm and grimace that I can actually see bone.
I roll my shoulders and walk out of the pit. Someone tosses me a towel, and I wipe as much blood off my chest as possible before I pull my shirt back over my head. It’s a modern T-shirt from the First Dimension, pale blue and made of soft cotton. Blood from my wounds immediately soaks through it.
Oh well.
Outside the pit sits a large bar where I order a beer. It tastes like horse piss, but the Dark Fae in this dimension know how to make alcohol that will actually get me shit-faced. I inhale the first mug and slam it on the scarred wooden top, demanding another.