“No weapons,” Trace murmured in her ear as he leaned in close to her. “Except the ones God gave you. Those are the cage rules.”
Jimmy opened his mouth and the light glinted off the too sharp and far too long teeth on each side of his mouth.
That just was seriously scary. She’d never seen teeth quite like those before, not even on vamps. “W-what kind of shifter is he?”
“Snake.”
Hell. The tattoo made sense then, and so did the sharp, thin fangs. Fangs that curved a bit, just like a snake’s.
Snake shifters were supposed to be devious. She’d heard rumors about them, but tonight was her first shot at an up-close look at the real deal.
Jimmy lifted his hands and the people watching and drinking roared.
Trace’s hold tightened on her. “It seems that Vance is a crowd favorite.”
Looked that way. She glanced over at Trace. She’d seen him shift once, that was how they’d met. She’d found him hurt, far too close to death, on a lonely stretch of Texas highway.
She’d thought about leaving the bloody wolf when he snarled at her with his bared fangs, but she hadn’t been able to walk away.
Not even when the wolf had become a man.
“How long have you been coming here?” On top of everything else that was happening, she had to deal with this, too.
Her best friend, sliding right back into that dark pool of violence and blood that had stalked him before they’d met.
Trace didn’t answer her and that alone was answer enough. She knew he had to feel the tension in her body.
His gaze was on the cage when he said, “If I hadn’t come here, you wouldn’t have found Vance tonight.”
Right. One problem at a time. She edged back toward the cage with Trace at her side. She’d managed to find clothes at Trace’s place—mostly because Trace had far too many female friends who left their shit behind—so she was wearing a miniskirt, one that was a little too short, and a top that was a little too loose. It kept slipping off her shoulder. The heels were high, ridiculously so, but the clothes made her fit in with the other women there, and that was the point, right? Blending in was a necessity with the supernaturals.
“Vance!” She yelled his name, but he didn’t glance her way. The crowd was roaring so loudly that she knew he hadn’t heard her. She tried again, yelling louder this time, “You’re in danger!”
He needed to slither his butt out of that cage and get over to her.
Eve didn’t know how much of a lead she had on Cain, and she sure didn’t want to waste any lead time while Vance enjoyed getting bloody by beating the hell out of some other shifter.
“We’re not hurting any humans,” Trace told her, voice gruff.
Oh, what? Was he starting to feel guilty for keeping this secret from her?
“That’s why we come here. You know the beasts need to fight. Here, we can face off against each other.”
Face off—until what point? Until only one shifter could claim dominance on a bloodstained floor?
The cage door opened.
The crowd didn’t cheer when the next fighter entered the ring. There wasn’t any sound from them at all. Her head turned toward the fighter because she wanted to see why everyone had gone so deadly quiet.
“He doesn’t smell like a shifter,” Trace said, lifting his head. “And I haven’t seen that guy before.”
The guy had a dark hood over his head, a hood that connected with the loose sweatshirt he wore. His shoulders were broad, his legs braced apart.
Vance frowned at him and . . . backed up a step? Eve caught the flash of fear on Vance’s face.
The new fighter shoved the hood off his head. The bright, almost glaring lights hit the stark lines of his face. It was a face she knew too well.
“Cain,” Eve whispered.
And she knew that she’d arrived too late.
CHAPTER SIX
“Cain!” Eve screamed his name even as the crowd chanted for Vance. No, no, they didn’t realize what was happening. They had no idea just how screwed they could all be.
The whole place could go up in flames.
“You know him?” Trace demanded as his hand curled over her arm.
She glanced at him. She’d tried to brief Trace as much as possible on Genesis as they rushed to the fight, but, sure, she’d skimmed over a few details. Like the sex. Like Cain leaving me at the truck stop. Some details you didn’t tell your best friend. Especially when that friend had a serious overprotective streak. “He’s . . . Subject Thirteen.” She’d told him that part. Told him that she’d helped Thirteen escape from Genesis.
Trace was still staring up at Cain. “He’s not like any shifter I’ve seen before.”
Vance was curling his hands into fists.
Cain stood, smiling faintly at him. Definitely a chilling smile—so why wasn’t Vance running the hell out of there? The guy should be trying to claw open the side of the cage and get to safety.
But he wasn’t.
“Get out,” she whispered. Vance had to know what Cain was capable of doing.
“No one can leave, not until a body hits the floor,” Trace told her, voice grim.
That wasn’t good.
She elbowed a lady out of her way. When the lady turned with a hiss, Trace stepped in to make sure Eve didn’t get clawed. Eve muttered her apology and tried to make sure she didn’t elbow anyone else.
Don’t want a beating right now. Don’t.
She was at the cage, curling her fingers tight around the heavy wiring. “Cain! Cain, stop!”
His head snapped toward her. Their eyes locked.
“Don’t do this,” she screamed. “Please, don’t—”
Vance attacked, leaping at Cain while his attention was on Eve. The two men were almost the same size, and Vance hurtled right at him, knocking Cain to the floor.
Then Vance—bit Cain?
“Shit. Snake venom.” Trace was at her back again. “Your Thirteen’s about to go out. That stuff ’s f**king poison.”
Vance sure seemed to think so. He was jumping off Cain’s body. Heading back toward the other side of the cage. Distancing himself, while he waited for his enemy to fall. He waved his hands in the air, encouraging the shouts from the crowd.
Venom. Venom. Venom.
Now she understood what they had been screaming for so long. The crowd had wanted to see the snake bite.
They’d gotten their wish.
Eve couldn’t move. She’d distracted Cain. She hadn’t wanted him to kill Vance, but she sure hadn’t wanted Cain to suffer, either.