Page 15

Dernin

The training dummy splintered under Dernin’s tail strike the following morning. Wood fragments scattered across the floor as he coiled back, his muscles burning with raw power he’d never felt before. His golden scales gleamed with sweat in the dim light of the workout room.

His senses felt heightened, sharpened. Every movement, every sound, every scent registered with crystal clarity. The mate bond thrummed through his veins like liquid fire, making his strikes faster, his reactions quicker.

He grabbed another training dummy, setting it up with efficient movements. His tail whipped through the air as he circled his target, analyzing weak points. Back on Nirum, training had required intense focus. Now that focus came naturally, instinctively.

The scent of roses drifted through his mind—Alaysia. His mate. His muscles coiled tighter, power surging through him at just the thought of her. This new strength, these enhanced senses—they had to be because of the mate bond.

His fist shot out, crushing through the dummy’s chest. The wood gave way like paper beneath his knuckles.

“Save some equipment for the rest of us,” someone muttered.

Dernin’s head snapped toward the voice, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The other fighter quickly looked away.

He returned to his exercises, but his thoughts kept drifting to Alaysia. To protecting her. To winning her freedom. Each punch, each strike, each movement was for her. The mate bond sang through his blood, driving him to be stronger, faster, better.

His tail coiled around a weight bar, lifting it with ease. Weight that would have challenged him before now felt like nothing. His body hummed with untapped potential, ready to be unleashed in the ring.

“Never seen you like this before,” a passing fighter commented.

Dernin’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Sand crunched beneath Dernin’s tail as he entered the ring.

His opponent, a burly Velken with cybernetic arms, cracked his metallic knuckles.

The sound echoed through the arena, but Dernin’s focus remained razor-sharp.

Yesterday’s blow to his ribs might as well have never happened as his body now thrummed with raw energy.

“Ready to die, snake?” The Velken’s mechanical arms whirred.

Dernin’s tongue flicked out. Every sense heightened to supernatural levels. The crowd’s roar faded as his gaze lifted to the private viewing box.

Alaysia.

Their eyes met across the arena. The mate bond exploded through him like lightning, setting every nerve ending on fire. Power surged through his muscles, making his scales ripple with golden light. His tail coiled with newfound strength.

“Come find out,” Dernin growled.

The Velken charged. His cybernetic fist whooshed past Dernin’s head, but Dernin moved like water. Each dodge felt effortless, time seeming to slow as he weaved between the mechanical strikes.

His tail swept out, catching the Velken’s legs. The crowd gasped as the larger fighter crashed face-first into the sand. Dernin’s fist connected with the back of the Velken’s head before he could recover.

“Is that all?” Dernin’s voice carried across the arena.

The Velken staggered up, spitting blood. He telegraphed his next punch so clearly, Dernin almost laughed. He caught the mechanical arm mid-swing, crushing the metal in his grip. Sparks flew as servos ground to a halt.

One more look at Alaysia. The mate bond sang through his blood like battle drums. His tail whipped forward with devastating force, catching the Velken square in the chest. The impact sent him flying into the arena wall with a sickening crunch.

The Velken didn’t get up.

“Victory to Dernin!” The announcer’s voice barely registered as Dernin’s gaze locked with Alaysia’s. Four wins down. The finals drew closer with each victory.

His opponent was carried from the ring, but Dernin stood tall, his golden scales gleaming with barely a scratch on him.

Dernin soon slid into position at the fighters’ viewing area and settled against the wall. His eyes fixed on the ring as Bariv strutted out to face his opponent.

“Watch and learn, snake,” Bariv called out, catching Dernin’s gaze. “This is how a real champion fights.”

Dernin’s blood boiled, but he kept his face neutral. The Jorvlen’s filaments writhed with anticipation as he squared off against a Kretian fighter.

The match started brutally. Bariv didn’t waste time with fancy footwork or strategy. He simply charged in, using his superior strength to overwhelm his opponent. The Kretian’s defense crumbled under the assault.

“He’s good,” muttered a fighter next to Dernin. “But sloppy.”

“Sloppy works when you’re that strong,” Dernin replied, studying Bariv’s movements. Every strike was designed to hurt, to dominate. No finesse, just raw power.

Blood sprayed across the sand as Bariv landed a devastating blow to his opponent’s face. The crowd roared their approval.

“That’s right!” Bariv shouted, playing to the audience.

The Kretian fighter struggled to stand, but Bariv didn’t give him the chance. A brutal kick sent him back down, and the match was called.

“Pathetic,” Bariv spat, turning toward the fighters’ area. His eyes locked with Dernin’s. “Better pray you don’t face me in the finals, snake.”

“I’m not worried,” Dernin replied flatly.

“We’ll see about that.” Bariv’s filaments twitched with amusement as he strutted past.

Watching him go, Dernin knew with certainty that it would come down to the two of them in the finals. His tail tightened its coil, his muscles tensing at the thought. When that time came, he’d be ready for him.

Dernin soon made his way back through the corridors toward the fighters’ barracks. The scent hit him before he saw the movement—that distinctive Jorvlen musk mixed with sweat and malice.

Bariv emerged from the shadows. “Nice fight today, snake. Though I’d say you’re getting soft. Must be all that time spent swooning over that human prize.”

“Move aside,” Dernin growled.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want to chat about your little redhead?” Bariv’s filaments twitched. “I’ve been thinking about all the things I’m going to do to her when I win. Maybe I’ll start by—”

The mate bond exploded through Dernin’s blood like molten steel. His tail whipped forward, slamming Bariv against the wall before he could finish his vile suggestion. “You don’t speak about her.”

Bariv’s laugh turned into a wet cough. “Touched a nerve, did I? Wait till I tell you what position I plan to—”

Dernin’s fist connected with the wall beside Bariv’s head, leaving a crater in the stone. “Last warning.”

“Or what?” Bariv’s filaments writhed faster. “Going to disqualify yourself by fighting outside the ring? Then she’s mine by default.”

The truth in those words burned worse than acid. Dernin’s muscles coiled tightly, every fiber of him screaming to end the threat to his mate. His golden scales rippled with barely contained rage.

“Break it up!” Two guards rushed forward, weapons raised. “Back to your quarters, both of you!”

Dernin held his position for one more heartbeat, letting Bariv see the promise of death in his eyes. Then he released him, watching with satisfaction as the Jorvlen slumped slightly.

“This isn’t over,” Bariv spat.

“You’re right,” Dernin’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “It ends in the finals. And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

The click of expensive boots on stone echoed through the corridor. Dernin tasted Fyret’s distinctive scent in the air—expensive cologne masking the stench of corruption beneath.

“Gentlemen,” Fyret’s smooth voice cut through the tension. “What did I say about damaging my merchandise outside the ring?”

Dernin kept his eyes locked on Bariv.

“Just having a friendly chat,” Bariv said, straightening his clothes with exaggerated care.

“Save it for the finals,” Fyret said. “Assuming you both make it there.” His sharp eyes fixed on the crater Dernin’s fist had left in the wall. “That’s coming out of your winnings, warrior.”

Dernin just gave a curt nod. The mate bond still hummed through his blood, demanding action, but he forced himself to stay still as Fyret turned to leave.

“Walk with me, Bariv,” Fyret called over his shoulder. “We have business to discuss.”

Something in their easy familiarity set off warning bells in Dernin’s mind. He watched through narrowed eyes as Bariv fell into step beside Fyret, the two of them talking in low voices as they disappeared around the corner.

Their body language spoke of long association. The way Bariv leaned in slightly as Fyret spoke, how Fyret’s hand occasionally clapped Bariv’s shoulder—these weren’t the gestures of a kingpin and his slave fighter.

“What game are you playing?” Dernin muttered.

The mate bond pulsed with renewed urgency. If Bariv and Fyret were working together somehow, it put Alaysia in even more danger.

But one thing was certain, anyone who threatened his mate would regret it.