Page 36 of Blood Fist

Fighting Ridan was like trying to wrestle the wind. He was quick and ruthless, punches landing with precision. Over and over, Ridan battered him in pre-existing bruises, trying to break him.

But Brune was bigger, and like the sun breaking through the clouds, he saw an opening. Planting his back foot, he threw his entire weight off it and slammed his knuckles into the omegas jaw.

Ridan’s head snapped back, blood exploding from the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, he spat a glob of blood on the ground between them. He looked up, brown eyes dazed. For a moment, Brune panicked. He’d just hit an omega! His alpha wailed, scratching at the back of his head to do something.

Between their sweat and the copper tang of blood, he smelled it. That spicy sweet flavor that coated his tongue like sticky syrup. It was stronger now, flooding his lungs with every ragged breath.

It smelled exhilarated.

Licking the blood from his teeth, Ridan cracked his neck and crouched. His sneer deepened into something truly savage just before he launched himself at Brune.

They fought like that for so long the sun had fully risen before he got another break. Between the pain, the exhaustion, and the smell ofomega,Brune was lost in the effort. For those moments, it was just them: an alpha, an omega, and the wretched sound of their labored breathing.

Of the two of them, Ridan was clearly the better. Had he a weapon, there would be no contest. But Brune learned. With every mouthful of dirt and fresh bruise blooming across his skin, he got better.

Ridan dodged a hit, glancing it off his shoulder as he tackled Brune to the ground. His whole weight crashed into him, elbow landing in his diaphragm to knock the wind and wits from him.

When he came to, Ridan had a knee on his chest and a dagger in his hand. Brune didn’t know where he got it from—he had been too focused on the quick fists and flashing eyes.

The necklaces hanging off Ridan’s neck jangled with the force of his breathing, sweat dampening his shirt until it clung to him like a second skin. He was glaring down at Brune, lips twisted into an expression he didn’t know the omega well enough to read.

Slowly, Brune relaxed, turning his head and bearing his neck to the omega.

Ridan’s eyes widened at the gesture of submission, dagger drooping slightly. Brune didn’t even realize he’ddone it. One moment he was looking up at the dagger and the next his alpha had taken over, giving himself over to the omega without a second thought.

“Why did you save me?” he asked through gritted teeth, his pale brows drawing together. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I knew your name.” The name rolled off his lips easily. “Ridan Oldsun.”

He dropped the hand holding the blade entirely. Brune grunted around the knee pressing into his chest.

“You shouted it across the field.”

Ridan scrunched up his face, nose wrinkling in distaste. It was such an unexpected reaction that Brune chuckled. His laughter only made the omega dig his knee in harder.

“That still does not answer my question,” he demanded. “Why did you save me?”

What was he supposed to say? That he’d spent the last couple of days asking himself the same question, only to find an answer that was no answer at all.

“Divine intervention,” he finally replied.

Ridan rolled his eyes at that, taking Brune’s honesty for flippancy. “Are you some kind of prophet, then? You speak to Artrax?”

“I don’t need a gift of second sight to see what is clear,” Brune said quietly, raising his hands to rest on Ridan’s leg. His fingers dug into the well-muscled thigh. “You were not meant to die, Ridan Oldsun. If you want truth, that’s it. That’s all I know.”

Ridan swallowed; his expressive eyes like molten metal in a blacksmith's shop just before it’s beaten into submission. There was confusion there, but something else, too. Something that Brune thought might be equal parts salvation and doom.

With a huff, Ridan jerked away from him.

Salvation, it is then,he thought as he took a deep breath. There was no offer of a hand to help him up, but those eyes tracked him as he pushed himself to his feet. Blood crusted Ridan’s lips, and the beginning of a decent bruise was darkening on his angular cheek, but there was something light in his scent as he caught his breath.

Finally, he stooped and picked up his sword. Clenching it in his hand, he stalked off. Just before he left, he turned to look over his shoulder.

“I won’t thank you.” Then he was gone.

Brune caught himself smiling when his lips split open again. Fresh blood trickled down his chin as he stared after the blonde.

CHAPTER EIGHT