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Werewolf gladiator Victor vows to escape captivity by demons or die trying--which nearly happens when his latest opponent takes him by surprise.
Jolanda is a member of a secret pack of wolf witches who want to free their kin from the dreaded demon tower. Strengthened by the power of her pack, she defeats Victor in the arena and demands that he be given to her as a mate.
Alone, they surrender to their overwhelming lust for each other, but Jolanda needs him for more than sex. She's been sent to rescue the captive wolves and Victor is the Alpha she needs to help her. Together he and Jolanda plan a mass escape from the tower, hoping to strike a blow the demon masters will never forget.
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Victor (Fangs and Fists 3)
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2017 Kate Hill
Turning his face up to the water in the communal shower in his gladiatorial house, Victor let it cleanse blood and sweat, but it couldn’t wash away the stains on his soul.
Victor had killed in battle, but until entering this hellish tower, he had never taken a life for entertainment. Now, within a month, he had done so several times.
His first murder had been a noble warrior named Grit. Like Victor, he had never killed in the arena. Grit was facing retirement and would have made it, had the masters not substituted Victor for his original opponent.
Though skilled and powerful, Grit was no match for Victor’s youth and strength.
Victor had no desire to destroy Grit, but too many lives depended on him securing a kill.
Then Victor had murdered again.
Glacier had been young and strong. He’d also been crafty and might have bested Victor if not for an accidental stumble that bared his throat to Victor’s teeth.
Tonight he had killed Slate, another young, powerful wolf.
Victor still tasted Slate’s blood.
The demons had destroyed so much. They had torn packs apart, tortured the innocent and forced all creatures of goodwill into hiding or submission.
The flow of water stopped and Victor shook off excess moisture in an animal-like gesture, though he was now in his man form. On his way out of the shower room, he grabbed a towel and quickly finished drying. He tossed it into a basket and stepped into the locker room.
His brother gladiators, in various states of shifting, stopped their conversations and looked at him.
He strode out in silence and returned to the barracks. Other wolves mingled there, and they also cast wary glances in his direction. Ignoring them, he dressed and lay on his back in his cot. He folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling, but didn’t actually see it. His thoughts focused on something far more important -- a way to escape.
Wolves had been brought into this tower, so they could surely find a way out. He knew several wolves from another gladiatorial house had tried, but they had been captured and killed before smelling freedom.
Two demon guards clad in black body armor entered the barracks. Their red eyes glowed behind dark face shields.
They approached Victor and one guard said, “Get up and come with us.”
All the guards sounded and looked alike. They were even the same height and body structure.
Victor knew better than to refuse. There would be no point in fighting, even if he was so inclined.
He guessed he would be going to one of two possible places. It would either be the punishment chamber because he’d killed Slate too quickly or -- and this was more likely -- to the demon masters who had bargained with him to kill for their entertainment.
The guards brought Victor out of the barracks and down a steel corridor to an elevator at the end. They boarded it. Except for the soft whir of the elevator descending, there was silence.
It stopped with an almost imperceptible lurch. The door opened and Victor, accompanied by the guards, stepped into a spacious room with an enormous glass ball in the center of it. Several couches surrounded it. While the upholstery resembled leather, Victor’s sense of smell told him the couches were covered with material that hadn’t come from any four-legged animal.
He’d been in this room before. Here, the demons had bargained with him for the lives of his fellow gladiators, their mates, and their cubs. Here, he’d traded his integrity and his soul for their lives.
The guards disappeared into dark corners of the room.
Since he had no intention of sitting on the foul furniture, Victor stood near the glass ball and waited.
The ball glowed faintly at first. Then it brightened. From within, two demon masters -- one male and one female -- stared at him. He knew they weren’t actually there. The ball was similar to television. He could see and hear them, but they were far away.
The male had ink-black, elbow-length hair. Tall and slim, he was dressed from head to foot in red. The female had short white hair. Her skin was nearly as pale as her form-fitting white dress. Both demons stared at him with black eyes.
“Your game has improved, Victor,” said the male, “but I’m afraid you still haven’t mastered the art of performing. Your kills aren’t entertaining enough, but for now that’s beside the point. We haven’t called you here to critique your style, but for another reason.”
“We have something special planned for you,” the female continued. “There’s a new contender in the tower -- one who has seen you fight and wishes to face you in the arena.”