Chapter 18

18

C reed

There are four pairs of males fighting all at once on the grass below us. They're all in their dragon forms. Octavia and I are far enough away from all the craziness not to be in danger but close enough to watch the activities, as is tradition. Octavia hasn't said much since the culling games began just over two hours ago.

My eyes are firmly on Tank, or at least on him in his dragon form. The sun glints off his black and red scales. He's the biggest dragon on the fighting field by far. I'm watching him toy with a much smaller, bright green dragon. He's running circles around the male, making him suffer, making him bleed. Tank is a brute. One I'm not looking forward to going up against. The more I watch the bouts of fighting, the more certain I am that my adversary in the final round will be Tank. There are one or two males who will give him a run for his money, but I don't think they have it in them to win.

If he has any weaknesses, I can't see them, as hard as I try. Even though we all have weaknesses, where he is concerned, they don't seem to be there. Perhaps when he faces someone closer to him in size and experience. Maybe I will glean something then. I hope so. So far, all I have been able to deduce is that he is fast and seriously fucking strong. He also shows no mercy. I'd go so far as to say he takes pleasure in watching his opponents suffer and die.

The big, black dragon in question lets out a roar before charging at the green dragon with unfathomable speed, especially for one so large. He sinks his razor-sharp teeth into the other dragon's shoulder, then shoves him away, even though he could have ended it there. The male falls to his knees, howling in pain. It takes a few strained attempts to get back to his feet. The beast limps away, dripping blood from gashes all over his body. It's clear that the male is done.

Tank's massive wings spread wide, revealing the intricate patterns etched in his scales. His tail flicks almost lazily from side to side as smoke wafts from his maw. His eyes are bright blue and filled with what could be mistaken for determination. All I see is bloodlust.

The black dragon fixes his gaze on me, narrowing his slitted eyes as they bore into mine. A rumble echoes from his chest. It's a warning – or a promise – of what is to come. Maybe both. I keep my gaze firmly on his, narrowing my eyes in response. My lip curls away in a silent snarl.

Bring it!

Then Tank turns and charges forward, his great body trembling with power. I shout out to the green dragon, who has not officially tapped out, but I am too late. Tank, still in his massive dragon form, leaps on top of the smaller dragon, snapping his neck with one hard bite and shake. The creature falls down, dead before he even hits the ground. The dragon shimmers and shifts one last time into his human form.

Such a waste of life.

I jump to my feet, every muscle in my body bunched. I'm poised and ready, but can't do anything about it. Not now.

Octavia whimpers softly. When I glance her way, her back is ramrod straight. Her eyes are staring ahead. She is doing a good job of keeping it together. Watching the culling games must be hard for her. They're aggressive and barbaric. And although only the final three rounds are to the death, it isn't uncommon for males to take it all the way, even in earlier rounds. Killing an opponent is only against the rules if he taps out. Dragons don't tap out. Not ever. Therefore, deaths happen all too often. So far, Tank has killed the two males he has faced. He played with them and then killed them when he got bored. They were both smaller than him. They were younger, too, with little combat experience.

Sitting ducks.

Lambs to the freaking slaughter.

Tank shifts and holds his arms up high, his fists pumping. He growls loudly, sure to look straight at me, his meaning clear. He lets his gaze drift over the group of spectators. At all the males who will have to fight next. He's doing it to intimidate them. He's trying to intimidate me. It's a good tactic. Several of the males shift and fly away, deciding that Octavia isn't worth dying for. More will leave before the day is up.

I will stay. I will fight.

"That male has no honor," Pyro says as he approaches us.

Octavia stands and moves closer to me, keeping a wary eye on the big male.

"You have nothing to fear, human," he says. "May I come closer?"

I nod.

"I am Pyro," he tells Octavia, who gives a small nod. "I know that you do not wish to mate or to breed. I just wanted to let you know that we are not all depraved." His gaze drifts to Tank, who is being congratulated by some of his friends. "Some of us respect your wishes. We will still fight for a chance of winning so that we can attempt to change your mind. We will not force your hand should we be successful. We would never force a female. We still have honor. We have not allowed our beasts to take over. You would be safe with any of us."

"Thank you. That is good to know," Octavia says.

"If you decide that you still wish to return home, we will honor your wishes." He looks over at a smaller group of males. "For now, we will help your champion in keeping you safe. My friends and I will take turns watching over you tonight. We will ensure a fair culling games."

"Thank you so much. You shouldn't risk your lives, though." She shakes her head. "I'm not going to change my mind. I mean, you seem like a nice guy and all, but I'm going home as soon as I am able. That's all I'm interested in. There is no way in hell any of you will be able to change my mind. You should go and talk to your friends. You should leave. Don't put your lives on the line for nothing…because it will be for nothing."

"I am truly sorry to hear that." Pyro's eyes cloud with disappointment.

"Who wants to take me on next?" Tank yells. "Who wants to die?" He walks among the men, his arms stretched wide. He looks completely insane. His eyes shine brightly. It's bloodlust; he's feeling it acutely. A male like Tank will want more blood on his hands.

My ribs are on fire. They throb in time with every heartbeat. My hope is that the pain will subside to a more reasonable level by tomorrow. Perhaps I will stand a chance.

"Who will it be?" Tank yells.

No one steps forward.

"Anyone?" he yells. "No one?"

"That's not how it's done," Pyro yells. "You will get a chance to fight again soon enough. Wait your turn."

"Why wait? I will beat any who stand before me." Tank glares at me. "I am going to win. You may as well hand the female over to me right now. Put her on her knees so that I may fill her womb."

I snarl as scales erupt all over my body. My teeth sharpen, and my claws lengthen. I step forward.

Tank smiles at me. "What about you, Creed? Should we finish this now? Unless there are takers?" Tank scans the crowd. His gaze moves from one male to the next. We can all see that he is crazed at this point. His muscles bulge. His cock is hard and dripping seed.

Rage courses through me. I growl low.

Octavia puts a hand on my arm. "Don't let him get to you."

Too late.

It's too fucking late.

"We need to follow the rules!" she yells.

"I hate to break it to you, human," Tank sneers. "If no one wants to fight me, then I am the last male standing." He pounds his chest with his fists, leaving red marks that disappear almost as quickly as they appear. "I get to fight the champion. It looks like there are no takers. That means I'm it. It's well before sunset, which means that the final bout would take place today still. Right now. Unless…" He starts walking around again, arms spread. He sure knows how to put on a show.

I know why he is doing this.

I know, and for the first time in my life, I am afraid.