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Kilian walked on to join Moses, and Isobel inwardly groaned, feeling stupid that she hadn’t expected another layer to this test. Demarais thought he was forcing her to pick between her own mates. It was almost embarrassing how little the humans understood bonds.

You want a fake brain injury or do I need to knock some teeth out for good measure? Kilian taunted good-naturedly.

Moses pretended not to hear him, which was for the best. Isobel edged forward on her seat, her breath catching.

She didn’t like this, but maybe it was better than them having to fight strangers.

Moses didn’t give her long to worry, though.

After grappling in a blur, Kilian broke away and knocked Moses to the ground.

Blood spurted from Moses’ mouth as he made a big show of dizziness, before ultimately failing to stand.

Isobel didn’t even feel a single punch of pain through the bond. Only dull amusement and lingering disgust from Kalen. Niko and Elijah strode out next, and Isobel jolted a foot into the air when a touch drifted across her exposed shoulder.

“When did these become your uniform?” Moses asked as her rioting heartbeat calmed.

He slumped into the chair she had vacated, dropping a bloodied towel to the floor as he pulled her onto his lap.

“The dresses?” she asked, glancing down at the long silk dress with the high slit. She had so many different variations of the same one. “I have no idea. It’s just easier not to think about what I have to wear. Are you allowed to be up here?”

“Do I look like I care?” He sniffed. “How does my face look? Am I still the second most beautiful Kane?”

She peeked at him over her shoulder, her brows dipping in. He still had blood smeared over his chin. “He didn’t actually knock any teeth out, did he?” she asked, frowning harder at his mouth.

She really liked Moses’ mouth. She liked his moody pout—though he would probably knock his own teeth out if he knew she thought of his lips as pouty .

He bared his teeth in a vicious grin. “Nope. Gonna have to try harder than that.”

She rolled her eyes, relaxing back against him, realising that he had managed to distract her from the start of Niko and Elijah’s match. Niko wasn’t losing as easily as Moses had. He was far too practised.

“You didn’t answer my other question,” Moses rasped against her ear, his fingers dancing along her thighs, one of them swirling into the slit of her gown.

Niko forced himself to make a wrong move, and Elijah pounced, fast and vicious, tackling him to the ground and holding him in a stranglehold that he definitely should have been able to get out of.

“You really want me to tell you how beautiful you are?” she asked quietly, trying to imagine that her reaction to him was wiggling on the ground in the chokehold Elijah had just demonstrated.

“Mhm,” Moses muttered, his fingers tracing back down again, all the way to her knees, his larger body absorbing the little shudders he drew out of hers. “Every man deserves to be told he’s beautiful.”

A genuine chuckle lifted from her lips, her body squirming at the light tickle of his fingers. He grunted in response.

“I think you’re very beautiful,” she told him.

“Really?”

He felt … intrigued . Their newly healed bond must have gotten better at broadcasting her feelings .

“What else do all men deserve?” she asked him as Theodore and Cian bounded into the ring, looking far too excited to act out whatever fake fight they had decided on—and she was sure they had discussed it. She could feel the humour, deviance, and anticipation swimming inside them.

“Dresses like these,” Moses whispered, hooking his thumb into her skirt and drawing it over her other leg.

Kalen, who was still standing, glanced up from the fight, his eyes narrowing on her suddenly exposed thighs.

“You want to borrow my dress?” she asked, her stomach flip-flopping, her legs pressing tightly together.

“Funny girl.” Moses stroked her thighs. “Look at you pressing so tight, trying to keep that sticky scent from exposing you. News flash, Sigma, I can feel you.” His hand pressed against her stomach, his skin so hot it burned through her dress. “I can feel all these butterflies, all this slick heat.”

The crowd was roaring, but Isobel’s breath was sawing, and her vision was blurring. “Are you trying to distract me?” she whimpered.

His lips skimmed her temple. “I saw you flinch during my fight.”

Her heart melted right through the floor, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

“All women deserve someone like you,” she said, her words wobbly .

“Hm.” He gripped her knees and yanked her legs open. Suddenly, painfully. “Do they?”

Kalen’s eyes filled with wildfire again as they dipped between her thighs, his jaw tight enough to carve through glass.

Isobel nervously flicked her attention between Yulia and Mikel, but Yulia was fixated on the fight, a small, self-satisfied smirk curling her lips when Cian was declared the winner.

She looked up at Isobel, a spark of calculation and approval in her eyes, as though giving her a little pat on the head for turning her Alphas into puppets.

Yulia obviously couldn’t see Moses’ hands, or she would be able to witness firsthand just how wrong she was about Isobel pulling all the strings.

Moses had her firmly pinned and spread, her body vibrating like an instrument primed and ready for his fingers to tease a sound from her.

Mikel stood as Oscar and Gabriel came into the ring, leaning against the other end of the windowed ledge to Kalen. Mikel’s chest stuttered with a deep breath as they both watched Moses’ large, tanned hands spread her pale thighs an inch wider.

“What are you going to do in that mirrored box, Carter?”

“Probably not this.” She heard the whine in her own voice but was powerless to control it.

“Hm. Then what?” His hand brushed over the front of her panties, making her jolt in shock. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He cupped her firmly. “Tell me what your plan is.”

She was vibrating all over. “You’re demanding for a virgin.”

“You’re mouthy for a Sigma.”

He curled a finger along the silken material of her panties, brushing her clit, his lips quickly ducking to her ear. “Quiet.”

She bit back the moan that he had sensed building through her body, rotating her hips in an attempt to get more pressure. His sound of pleasure was rough, jolting from his chest to hers.

“ You be quiet,” she shot back breathily.

“Plan,” he demanded. “Tell me.”

“I have no idea.” She glanced between Mikel and Kalen, the intensity in their eyes only making her hotter, her hips grinding down against Moses with increasing desperation as his finger teased her with maddening calm.

Below them, the crowd roared and stamped, and Isobel knew the match was ending.

“N-No,” she cried, pressing her ass up against the painfully hard bulge behind her and bouncing a little in desperation for him to do something.

“Fuck.” He sucked in an unsteady breath, hooked her panties to the side, and slid two fingers into her soaked channel, his thumb pressing to her clit as she twisted her body to hide her face from the window, tilting it to allow the curtain of her hair to protect her as pleasure gripped and squeezed her body.

Moses fucked his fingers into her faster as the crowd stampeded again, and someone cried out that Gabriel had won the match.

His dark grey eyes dripped down her features, drinking in the desire in her eyes and the desperate grip of her teeth digging into her lip.

“Let go,” he whispered, ducking down to quickly press his lips to the side of her mouth. “I’ll catch you.”

She exploded in a silent, soundless gasp, clinging to his arm, her thighs snapping closed around his hand.

He quickly slid his fingers out and fixed her dress, jostling her until she faced the front again, her body still locked tight, jolts of pleasure still rippling through her nerves.

Yulia was standing up, however, so she made sure to train her eyes below, watching as blood was swept from the floor.

Her stomach lurched again, for a different reason this time.

Is everyone okay? she asked, searching through the bond.

Ragged desire clawed at her from every direction. No pain. No fear.

Not as good as you . Cian’s smirk was audible in his voice.

Moses picked her up and stood, setting her on her feet. “I should go join the others.” He pressed close to her. “I don’t know how to adjust this thing without everyone seeing. They’re all on their fucking feet. ”

The thing , she assumed, was the large appendage currently trying to stage a jailbreak from his dress pants.

“Um.” She choked on a laugh. “Do you need a hand?”

He fixed her with a droll look. “Really, Carter?”

She deadpanned. “Permission to approach the package.”

He groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s not going to disarm itself.”

“ Isobel .”

“ Moses .”

“Fix it, you fucking brat.”

She angled her body even closer to his and tried to surreptitiously slide her hand up his thigh. As soon as her fingers brushed along his length, he hissed.

“Without making me come in my pants,” he gritted out.

She quickly rearranged him, trying to ignore the way he thrust into her palm, and then stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“It’s still pretty obvious, but at least it doesn’t look like you’re trying to smuggle a baseball bat into an underground fight club anymore.”

“Great.” He rolled his eyes and levelled his finger at her. “You keep what’s ours safe tonight, or there will be hell to pay.”