Page 3 of Shattered Stars

The adjudicator chuckles. “The crowd has spoken.”

I walk into the middle of the ring, under the hot lamps, rolling my shoulders, and tipping my head from side to side.

The adjudicator peers up at Spencer but continues to walk around the ring. He knows from experience we won’t fight each other. He stops before a tall man instead – a man who looks more like a tank than a fighter, his body straining to break free of the black vest he’s wearing.

He’s new. I’ve not seen him before and I’m guessing the adjudicator hasn’t either.

“What’s your name, fighter?” he asks.

“Crusher,” the man says with a grin that shows he’s missing teeth. I smile to myself. It means the man is either too dumb to fix his own teeth or so dumb he’s chosen not to. Either way, I could defeat him blindfolded with my right arm tied behind my back. Maybe this isn’t going to give me the relief I’m after. Then again, the man speaks with an accent similar to that Andrew kid. The one I know betrayed the pig girl to Barone. Maybe I’ll enjoy making him suffer.

“Haven’t you got someone a little bigger? More of a man to fight,” the dude says.

I smile at him. The adjudicator smiles at him. Half the fucking crowd smiles at him.

He really is dumb.

But he’s also strong. Fucking strong. And faster than a man that beefed up should be.

Doesn’t matter though, half the fun is letting them think they’re winning, defeating me. Letting their knuckles slam into my cheek, and feel all that pain crackle through my body. Let them crush a solid shoulder into my rib cage and hear the crack. Let them pound me. Let me taste blood in my mouth. Let me feel hungry for it.

It’s nothing I haven’t felt a million times. A million beatings. Everyone making me more powerful. Stronger.

I spit bright red saliva onto the dirty floor and peer up at the man, hunching over like he’s ready to sprint at me, his shoulders heaving like a bull about to charge.

I wait for him to move, lifting my fist and striking him right in the center of his fucking head, pummeling all my magic behind the strike. It stops the fucker dead in his tracks and there’s an impressed gasp that spins around the circle watching us. I flick my fingertips and the man lifts through the air, high above our heads. I twizzle my fingers next and he spins so fastI’m surprised he doesn’t vomit. Then I drop my hand and the man drops too, falling through the air and landing with a thump and a groan.

He’s a crumple on the ground now, moaning. This was far too easy and I’m not nearly satisfied enough.

This isn’t the thrill it used to be. Neither is grabbing the scruff of his vest and smacking my fist into his dumb face over and over again, until he’s begging for mercy; the teeth he has a bloody mess, his nose the same.

Nothing’s a thrill any more. Nothing.

And I’m not sure how much more of it I can take.

Because I’m beginning to realize that all I want is the thrill of her. The touch of her. And the taste. Fuck, even the scent of her. The only thing that makes my blood shimmer.

I want her. And I don’t think I can fight this any longer.

2

Rhi

I liein Stone’s arms in his bed, the darkness of night withering away around us and the first fingers of dawn creeping in through the gaps in the curtains.

I don’t want day to chase away this night. I want to lie in this moment, in our own little world forever. Because as the room turns a deep shade of gray, I know we have to face whatever’s coming next. And experience has taught me that whatever that is, I am unlikely to like it.

“You’re too much of a pessimist for someone so young,” Stone whispers, stroking back strands of hair from my face.

I nuzzle closer into his embrace, loving the feel of his warm skin against mine.

I never knew being with someone could feel like this, that the press of their body against mine would feel so intoxicating. I thought the sex would be the exciting part – and yes that is damn, damn good – but this, these moments … is it strange to like them more?

“No,” he whispers into my ear.

“So you’re going to let me stay?” I ask, with mischief in my eyes.

“You know I don’t want you to go.”