Page 99 of Feral Possession

Once inside their private suite, he strode to the railing, his dark gaze sweeping over the crowd. Dove gasped. Below them had to be fifty women in matching headscarves and glasses.

“The scarf and perfume were gifts I gave her for her years of service,” Marcus snarled through gritted teeth.

“What are we going to do?” Dove said. “Your guards can’t unmask fifty women. Besides the time constraint, it will cause a spectacle.” Which is exactly the kind of thing Helen would thrive on.

Celeste’s head pinged between them and the arena. “What scarf? What’s going on?”

Before Dove could answer, the lights dimmed. The announcer’s voice boomed over the sound system. “And now. The event you’ve all been waiting for. I give you the greatest Wildcard match of all time.” Crimson spotlights sliced through the dark like laser beams. Fog machines bellowed smoke. The lights extinguished, casting the arena in darkness.

The announcer roared, “Four-time, heavyweight champion, Bishop McGregor.” Bright lights blazed to life and poof, Bishop appeared in the iron cage. The crowd went nuts, cheering, clapping.

Celeste was right. Bishop was a sight to behold, bare-chested, in a pair of tight-fitting black shorts. He prowled a slow circle around the cage, mean-mugging the audience, and the spectators loved it. His powerful muscles gleamed beneath the spotlights. Tattoos sleeved one thick shoulder and arm. The lycan was a powerhouse, promising pain to any who dared to face him.

Celeste fanned her face, elbowing Dove’s arm. “Now, do you understand?”

Dove nodded, distracted from her Helen concerns. “I confess to having a whole new appreciation for the sport.”

The announcer stepped to the center again. “His opponent, the lucky draw in our Wildcard match.” Once more, the lights dimmed. Red spotlights cut through the crowd, then fell dark. “Damion Hernandez!” The lights flared. Across the ring appeared a bare-chested lycan in green shorts. His short-cropped hair and longer beard were the color of a shiny new penny. On his rugged face was an expression of such deep, abiding hatred, Dove shivered, wrapping her arms around her middle. He pulled his lips back, baring massive canines, and the medallion on his chest gave off a dull, red glow. His beast was fired up and raring to go.

The crowd erupted, cheering.

“What? No!” Celeste grabbed her chest, stepping away from the railing. She peered at Dove, her face pale. “Oh, this is bad. He wasn’t even on the list of opponents.”

“What’s going on? Why is everyone freaking out?” Dove shouted over the noise.

Marcus answered, “It was Hernandez’s brother whom Bishop killed in his last fight.”

Meaning, this guy wasn’t here to win. He was here for vengeance. Bishop had been set up. Dove turned to Marcus. “We have to stop this. Pull a fire alarm or something.”

Marcus shook his head, his expression grim. “Bishop can handle—”

Tinkling bells chimed from the phone Jackie O had given Marcus. Dove watched him with rounded eyes as he pressed the screen. Held it to his ear. Spoke into the speaker.

“Hello, Helen.”

Twenty-Four

“It’s been a long time, darling.” Helen’s shrill timbre stabbed Marcus’s eardrum. He’d never been a fan of her piercing voice.

“Too long. We should get together, catch up.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she purred.

“You left in such a hurry.”

“In a blaze, I’d say.”

He loosened his tie and tossed it onto a chair, preparing for the battle ahead. “Looked to me as though you ran away with your tail between your legs.”

“Oh, my dearest.” She cackled. “How I’ve missed our banter.”

Cheers erupted, and he glanced at the arena. Bishop and Damion circled each other. The match had started.

Dove reached into Marcus’s jacket pocket and withdrew his personal cell phone. She held it out so he could punch in his code and dial his security team, then pressed it to her ear. “Hi, it’s Dove. Helen has contacted Marcus. Intercept any female you spot who’s talking on their phones. Forget whether they have headscarves. It’s just a diversion.”

“Mmm,” Helen purred. “Your new toy isn’t as stupid as she looks. Strange how she’s comfortable enough to riffle through your pockets. You were never so friendly with the others.” Her voice snapped with anger.

She was watching them. He scanned below. All heads were turned toward the fight. Balconies? He needed to keep her talking while he located her. “Tell me why, Helen.”