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he’d pull me against him then urged me on.
    Steps later we entered a massive warehouse room; thousands of people were pushing toward the center trying to see something. The brutal yells of men and the smell of the blood and sweat was nauseating.
    Slayton kept pushing me toward the back corner. Everyone in our way moved as soon as they figured out who was trying to get by. All of it was a blur for me once we stopped walking. I was still looking for an escape and feeling exceedingly claustrophobic as each second ticked by.
    I only vaguely noticed the other fight had ended, that the announcer was pumping up the crowd for the next. Or that Slayton had taped his hands—and mercy, taken his shirt off. I’d felt the boy’s chest, but laying eyes on in it in the middle of the hell we were in was an entirely new erotic experience.
    I was right about the ink. There was a massive cross above his heart, script down each of his sides, and thousands of other details I couldn’t take in because I was too taken back by how defined his chest was, and how it narrowed into his waist. I clenched my fists closed, barely stopping myself from reaching for him. I was starting to think whatever this pull I felt to him was more than attraction. But I’d be damned if I could give it a name. I couldn’t process anything right then.
    I followed Slayton’s ferocious gaze when he indignantly looked up. On the second level, there were what I guess you would call gangster box seats. The man from the office and a handful of others in suits were all staring down at the mass of humanity. Slayton moved his stare to Channing; he didn’t say a word, but the threat was in his eyes. Channing lifted his lip in a sly grin as he gripped the back of my arm.
    I moved to protest but his grip was too fast, and I was too distracted by the fact that Slayton was walking away from me and toward the crowd that had not only parted but was cheering him on. Slayer, Slayer, Slayer!
    Channing pulled me in tight and at my ear said. “Tell me why Slayton Winslow is treating you like a crowned jewel.” I jerked away, then but my resistance was pointless. We were moving forward, following Slayton, but our path was harder because the crowd had closed in.
    Channing tightened his grip on me, looking for his answer.
    “I don’t know,” I grunted ruefully. “We clicked.”
    Clicked was the furthest thing from what I had done with Slayton but it sounded real enough to Channing. He sneered. “Not the boy to play games with,” Channing warned.
    A warning that fell on deaf ears because I was zoned in on Slayton; we’d made it to center ring. There was a guy standing opposite of him. He was a few inches taller than Slayton, thicker in the shoulders. He was just as ripped but not nearly as healthy looking. There was something cagey and lost in his eyes that told me as much. Most of his ink was a swamp green color and looked like it was drawn on in the dark. He was missing two teeth on the right side. Which was easy to see because he was snarling at Slayton.
    Channing leaned down against my ear and spoke. “If he dies, you don’t let go of me—not if you want out of here alive.”
    Thick, sick, cold dread began at the crown of my head, slid down my body, and coiled in my gut. I felt faint for the first time in my life.

FIVE
    Channing strengthened his grip on my arms when he felt the fight seeping out of me. “Russia’s reigning undefeated fighter. He’s deadly.”
    I never looked up at Channing. I kept my stare and my prayers locked hard and fast on Slayton. Was he being punished because of me? Tested?
    “Bets are high,” Channing said.
    “And where is yours,” I said through gritted teeth hating he had cocooned me in his arms.
    “Always with Odin’s princes.”
    I had no idea what his answer meant and didn’t care to ask him. I was warring with my thoughts. Thoughts that wanted to scream for Slayton, to run to him and feel his lips on mine, and then even more