Page 119 of Obsidian and Frost

There was so much dark intensity coming off him that I couldn’t look away.

Everything else faded into the background, the surroundings, even the raucous cheers as he shook off his robe, then took his place within the magical circle.

A vampire stepped in—a fourth year who also had a Graverun ring like Lazriel did. The guy was a monstrous powerhouse who even towered over Lazriel. He had his fangs bared already, in full vampire mode, twisted features and all. Even his talons were out as he assumed a fighting stance in nothing but a pair of tight black shorts, and waited for the magical flag to signal the start of the fight.

The moment it fell, the vampire slammed forward with a burst of speed.

Lazriel spun and smashed his elbow into his face at the brutal point of contact that sent the guy crashing into the magic of the circle, then ricocheting off it.

Lazriel was there in the next second, throwing his fists, yanking on the guy’s neck, then crushing his face with his knee, before then executing a spinning kick that had his opponent careening across the other side of the circle.

The guy choked and spluttered, and it took him several moments to get back to his feet. Even when he did, he was unsteady.

Not only wasn’t Lazriel pulling any punches, he was being unnecessarily brutal.

Because it wasn’t this vampire who he was really fighting. It was a whole lot else.

And then something shocking happened.

Lazriel allowed his opponent to get in a hit.

Not by accident.

Intentionally.

I knew how fast he could move.

The punch had been sluggish on account of the guy being badly hurt from Lazriel’s attack and his healing not yet kicking in.

But Lazriel let it plow into his chest.

It didn’t faze him, because he was like a wall of titanium, especially in a fight, as I’d seen from the scene in the forest earlier when he’d taken so much magical damage from Rennick and had somehow still pushed on when most would be on their knees at the very least and screaming out into the night, if not already unconscious.

His opponent hit again.

Again, again, and again.

Lazriel finally staggered back.

An uppercut from the vampire had his head snapping up.

Another punch smashed into his face, bloodying his lip.

He flashed a bloodied grin, then held his hands out either side.

The guy snarled, then wailed on him like he was a fucking punching bag, not a real person.

I grimaced and clenched my fists.

It was fucking brutal, blood spewing everywhere as Lazriel just took the punishment.

Silently, while the disgruntled roars from the crowd filtered back in to me, people shocked that he wasn’t winning out, that he was just enduring it.

No. More than that.

Holding his hands out in invitation. The grinning, then a couple of unhinged laughs… he was welcoming it.

He wanted to be hurt.